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Some of the onlookers, clueless about the truth, began casting sympathetic glances at the widow. A few even muttered, “These young doctors can’t really be trusted…”
“Exactly. How else would someone that young become a hospital director?”
“Poor family, losing their breadwinner…”
The intern’s eyes burned red with rage as he heard the murmurs. His voice cracked as he shouted, “Last night was our director’s daughter’s birthday! Ms. Saunders left her own child at home to save that patient! She stood at the operating table for six straight hours until dawn, only to sleep two before rushing back for rounds! And then she found this woman lying on top of the patient, crushing him, and causing a second trauma! And now you dare slander her? Are doctors not human? Do our sacrifices mean nothing, to be smeared by your lies?!”
He tore off his badge and flung it down. “If this is what being a doctor means, then I quit! Saving people like you isn’t worth it!”
“Hey, watch your mouth! We paid good money to be here! You think you’re some kind of saint? You doctors are just in it for the cash anyway! Struck a nerve, did I?” the widow sneered, piling on the pressure.
The crowd pressed closer to the flustered intern, tension mounting–when suddenly, with a loud click, the surgical light above the operating room flicked off.
Moments later, the door swung open.
Yunice emerged first, tugging her mask halfway down, her chest heaving from exhaustion. She hadn’t even taken a full breath before the widow leapt down from the windowsill and shrieked, “That’s her! That’s the butcher who killed my husband!”
Dozens of eyes snapped toward Yunice, filled with scorn and disdain.
She didn’t spare them a glance, nor waste a word in defense.
Instead, she looked to the intern and said evenly, “Go monitor the patient’s vitals. I need rest.”
Her quiet command only fed the widow’s fury. “Did you hear that? She’s pawning off responsibility on a trainee! In front of everyone! Look at how brazen she is!”
The murmurs swelled again, agreeing with the accusation.
Yunice ignored them. She was bone–tired. After nearly ten straight hours of high–stakes
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surgery, her body was beyond its limit. She didn’t have the strength to argue, nor the patience.
The widow, sensing weakness, pounced. She jumped down, seized Yunice’s arm, and snarled, “You’re not leaving until you explain yourself! You killed my husband! The hospital owes me justice!”
Yunice’s temper flared. She didn’t care what the gawkers thought. She was exhausted, but once she recovered her strength, she would drag this woman’s stupidity into the light for all to see- prove exactly how they’d been manipulated into mob justice.
She tried to shake the woman off, but her drained body betrayed her. Instead of breaking free, she stumbled forward, vision darkening.
Her knees buckled–she was about to crash face–first onto the floor.
But before she hit, an arm like steel closed around her waist, holding her steady.
Above her head came Wyatt’s voice, low and cold.
“Police are here. If you have grievances, take them to them.”
The widow froze, panic flashing in her eyes before she puffed herself up again. “Good! Let them come! I’ll accuse her of murder! This won’t end here! How else would she become director so young? She must have climbed her way through corruption! I’ll expose her! My husband’s death won’t be in vain–he’ll help cleanse society of filth!”
Wyatt’s laugh was icy. “If you’re that noble, then go shout it in front of the police.”
He glanced down at Yunice in his arms. Her body had gone limp, her weight sinking fully into him. Concern for her eclipsed any thought of retaliation.
If not for Yunice’s condition, he’d have crushed the woman’s theatrics right here. But now, his priority was clear–protect her. The rest he would leave to law enforcement.
“You’re not taking her away!” the widow screeched, lunging for Yunice.
Wyatt’s arm lashed out, shoving her hard. She crashed to the ground.
“Out of my sight,” he growled, carrying Yunice away without looking back.
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