Chapter 2

2

I had just gotten back to my office when the phone in my pocket started buzzing.

I pulled it out and saw it was my brother, Chester Whitney.

I hit decline without a second thought.

I had a surgery starting any minute now, and I did not want him messing with my head at a time like this.

But he wouldn't give up. Call after call, one right after another.

Finally he sent a long voice message threatening me: "Scarlett! Mom told me everything. You won't front the medical fees and you'd rather watch her die. Let me tell you, if you don't hand over that money today, I'll go straight to your hospital bosses and raise hell, so everyone can see exactly what kind of cold-blooded thing their Deputy Chief of Surgery really is!"

I looked at those words and couldn't help laughing.

After all these years, mother and son were still exactly the same.

Shameless when they wanted something, cool as anything when they made their threats.

As if I owed them the whole world.

I didn't answer. I just switched the phone to silent, shoved it into my locker, and turned to head for the operating room.

Believe me, I would have loved to have it out with them.

But this surgery held the life of a fifteen-year-old boy.

I wasn't going to gamble with a patient's life.

If I wanted to fight it out with them, it could wait until after I'd finished the operation.

3

By the time the surgery was over, four hours had passed.

When I peeled off my scrubs and walked out, I felt like I might fall apart.

The moment I reached the nurses' station, the head nurse started shooting me looks, eyes flicking nonstop.

"Dr. Whitney, your brother's been waiting in your office for ages. Says it's urgent."

I nodded and kept walking toward my office.

I'd known all along that Chester would come.

Him not showing up would have been the strange thing.

What I hadn't expected was that a few years apart would leave Chester this unhinged.

I'd barely pushed the door open when he snatched the teacup off the desk and hurled it at me.

Luckily my reflexes were quick enough, and I twisted aside from it.

Otherwise a hit like that would have laid me up for two weeks.

The cup smashed against the door with a crash, shards of porcelain scattering all over the floor.

I gripped the door frame and closed my eyes, forcing down the fury boiling up inside me, and asked Chester, "Chester, have you lost your mind? Are you trying to kill me?"

He stood in front of my desk, eyes red, jabbing his finger at my face. "Scarlett, I think you're the one who's lost it! Mom's lying in bed, barely holding on, and you've still got it in you to do surgery? I'm asking you—why didn't you pick up my calls!"

I slowly pulled the mask down off my face, showing him an expression so calm it was blank.

"First, I'm a doctor. Saving lives in surgery is my job. Second, I never said I wouldn't help. I only asked you to pay half. Third, whether or not I take your calls is my business, and I don't owe you an explanation."

My answer left Chester stunned for a second, and then he got even more worked up, stamping his feet. "That's your own mother! Since when do you split it, half for you and half for me? Now you're wearing a white coat, playing doctor, living the good life. Paying for Mom's surgery wouldn't dent your life one bit. I just drive for a ride-hailing service. Where am I supposed to get a hundred and fifty grand? You're trying to push me to my death!"

"Earning less isn't a reason to squeeze me." I walked to the water cooler and drew a cup of warm water, saying it without expression.

"From the time I got into the Ivy League at eighteen, this family never spent another cent on me. This good life of mine, I paid for it with everything I had. It didn't come from the Whitneys. You ate off this family, wore what this family bought, Mom covered your down payment, Mom helped raise your son. Asking you for a hundred and fifty grand is already letting you off easy. Take my advice—don't push it. Push me too far, and I won't put a single cent toward Mom's medical fees."

"You—!" Chester couldn't get another word out for the longest time.

When the guilt-tripping got him nowhere, he switched straight to making a scene.

He dropped down onto the floor and started slapping his thighs and crying. "Come look, everybody! Scarlett, this heartless creature—her own mother's in the hospital needing surgery, and she's got the money but won't pay for treatment, forcing her big brother who drives a ride-hailing car to come up with a hundred and fifty grand. The dogs must've eaten her conscience!"

Chester had always had a big mouth on him.

With him wailing like that, within minutes the doorway of my office was packed with people gathering to watch.

Watching Chester carry on like this, so shameless nothing could touch him, I was speechless.

I honestly couldn't get my head around it—how a man pushing forty could roll around on the floor throwing a fit like some shrieking harpy without a flicker of shame.

I let out a long sigh, pulled the phone straight out of my pocket, and dialed 911.

"Hello, is this 911? This is Office 302 in the surgery building of Elmwood City General Hospital. Someone is causing a disturbance and disrupting the normal order of the hospital. Please send someone over."