Chapter 4

Hearing that, all the surrounding nurses froze.

I, however, remained exceptionally calm, because I had already been through this once.

Only this time, I hadn’t gone into the hospital's operating room; I had a solid alibi.

“Medical accident?” I feigned confusion, asking, “What medical accident?”

“An hour ago, at 9:52 PM, a surgery you performed resulted in the patient’s death on the operating table.”

“The cause of death was an anesthetic overdose, leading directly to cardiac arrest.”

The detective stated in a cold voice: “Surgeon Marcus identified you as the one who performed this surgery, and the syringe used to inject the anesthetic also has your fingerprints on it.”

I listened quietly.

Every detail was exactly the same as in my previous life.

If this were my past life, I would have already collapsed by now.

I would have frantically tried to explain.

But now, I just looked up, calmly meeting his gaze: “You said, what was the patient’s time of death?”

The detective paused: “The surgical record shows 9:52 PM.”

9:52 PM? I almost laughed out loud.

9:52 PM was when I signed the admission consent form.

The detective said no more, raising a hand to signal the people behind him to step forward:

“Take her back to the station for interrogation.”

Just then, a nurse suddenly reached out to stop them: “Wait a minute.”

He slapped the patient’s medical record onto the table, pointed to the signature time on it, and asked:

“This patient broke her right arm at 9:26 PM and was undergoing fracture reduction in the treatment room at 9:52 PM.”

“X-rays, surveillance, medical staff signatures, it’s all here.”

“Now you tell me, how could she simultaneously be in the operating room causing someone’s death?”

The detective was about to speak when someone suddenly rushed in from outside the door – Marcus.

He grabbed my wrist, looking utterly distraught:

“Eliza, the patient is dead! Don’t you know that?”

“You need to cooperate with the investigation right now and explain everything clearly, and you might get a lighter sentence!”

His words, on the surface, seemed to be for my good, but in reality, every word was cementing my status as a murderer.

I sneered and retorted, “The patient’s death has nothing to do with me. I never even entered the operating room.”

Marcus’s face changed, and his grip on my hand tightened further:

“Eliza, don’t talk nonsense in front of the police.”

“And all the evidence points to you now. If you confess, the judge will consider a reduced sentence…”

Saying this, he turned his head to the detective, his tone earnest:

“Officer, she might just be confused right now… I’m advising her, I’m advising her to confess… Will confessing lead to a reduced sentence?”

Reduced sentence? He wished for my immediate execution.

Taking a deep breath, I was about to produce the evidence to shut him up.

But Sophia followed closely behind, bringing the patient’s family with her:

“Eliza, I know you wanted to snatch this surgery to prove yourself… but how could you…”

“How could you gamble with the lives of the patient and her baby for a promotion…”

As if things weren't chaotic enough, she threw another accusation my way:

“Actually… the patient and baby could have been saved, but Eliza… made frequent errors, which led to the patient… a double fatality…”

Hearing that, anger flared within me.

Staring at her, I said each word distinctly:

“Sophia, you were the one who performed that surgery.”

“You were the one whose error led to the patient’s death, not me.”

Her face paled, and her tears fell even harder. She retreated half a step, shrinking behind Marcus, whimpering softly:

“Eliza… how could you accuse me… This was clearly your doing…”

Marcus immediately stepped in front of her, glaring at me: “Eliza, how long are you going to keep this up?!”

I wasn't "keeping it up." But I didn’t get a chance to explain.

Because the patient’s family was too emotional; they lunged at me without thinking:

“It was you! You killed my wife!”

A middle-aged man suddenly rushed up, his eyes bloodshot, and kicked my newly bandaged right arm.

Pain. Excruciating pain.

My newly bandaged arm was broken again. The pain made my vision blur, and cold sweat instantly drenched me.

I gritted my teeth, trying to explain: “I didn’t… kill anyone… It wasn’t me!”

But no one listened.

The patient’s mother even dropped to her knees, pounding the floor and wailing uncontrollably:

“Oh, God, my daughter was only twenty-six!”

“Her baby never even saw this world! How can this murderer still be alive?!”

Cries, curses, and attempts to break up the fight mixed together. The room instantly descended into pandemonium.

All eyes were on me, as if I were a heinous criminal.

I clutched my right arm, leaning against the wall, trembling from the pain.

And the patient’s husband, still agitated, was about to kick me again.

“Stop!” The detective finally reacted, reaching out to separate the family members, and said:

“This patient broke her right arm at 9:26 PM and was undergoing fracture reduction in the treatment room at 9:52 PM.”

“X-rays, surveillance, medical staff signatures, it’s all here. She couldn’t possibly have been on the operating table causing someone’s death!”

The room fell silent instantly.

Marcus’s face turned white.

Sophia completely froze.