His Life Hung By My Hands

Name: His Life Hung By My Hands
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Gavin

Modern | Completed

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My fiancé and my cousin destroyed my life. Their betrayal led to my mother's suicide and my grandmother's death. They framed me for arson, and I went to prison. Three years later, I' m a trauma surgeon. The ER doors burst open, and there he was, carrying her in his arms. She was pregnant, and she was bleeding out. He begged me to save them. "Save her, Alana. Please. Save them both." Then he accused me of wanting revenge, his eyes filled with hate. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" The man who took everything from me was now on his knees, his world depending on my skill. I was the only one who could save the woman who stole my life. I did my job. I saved them both. But as I walked out of the hospital that night, his car was there, blocking my path. This wasn't just a chance encounter. He was back to reclaim what he thought was his.

Betrayal Revenge Doctor Revenge Personal growth

Chapter 10

Today 10:39

Chapter 1

My fiancé and my cousin destroyed my life. Their betrayal led to my mother's suicide and my grandmother's death. They framed me for arson, and I went to prison.

Three years later, I' m a trauma surgeon. The ER doors burst open, and there he was, carrying her in his arms. She was pregnant, and she was bleeding out.

He begged me to save them.

"Save her, Alana. Please. Save them both."

Then he accused me of wanting revenge, his eyes filled with hate.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

The man who took everything from me was now on his knees, his world depending on my skill. I was the only one who could save the woman who stole my life.

I did my job. I saved them both. But as I walked out of the hospital that night, his car was there, blocking my path. This wasn't just a chance encounter. He was back to reclaim what he thought was his.

Chapter 1

The double doors of the ER burst open, and my past, in the form of Cassius Coleman, stormed in. He was carrying his heavily pregnant wife, Kori Myers, in his arms. Blood stained Kori' s pale floral dress. Her eyes were wide with pain, and a low, guttural moan escaped her lips.

"Help her! Please, someone help her!" Cassius' s voice was a raw, desperate shout. It cut through the usual cacophony of the emergency room.

I felt a jolt, sharp and unwelcome. It was a familiar feeling, one I' d spent three years trying to bury. But duty called. My name is Alana Hays, and I am a trauma surgeon. This was my world now.

"Doctor Hays, trauma bay one!" a nurse yelled, already wheeling out a gurney.

My gaze met Cassius's for a split second. Recognition, then pure terror, flooded his face. He looked like he' d seen a ghost, or maybe just a very inconvenient nightmare. But his focus snapped back to Kori.

"She's bleeding," he gasped, his expensive suit rumpled, his usually perfectly coiffed hair falling into his eyes. "The baby... is the baby okay?"

His panic was palpable. It filled the air, thick and suffocating. It was a stark contrast to the controlled chaos that usually reigned here. He was unraveling, the Wall Street mogul stripped bare by fear.

"We need to get her on the gurney, Mr. Coleman," I said, my voice flat, professional. I watched as the nurses gently transferred Kori. Her face was ashen.

"Save her, Alana. Please. Save them both," he pleaded, his eyes locking onto mine. He used my first name, a name I hadn't heard from him in so long, not like this. It felt like a trespass.

I ignored it. My training kicked in, an iron curtain descending over my emotions. "STAT ultrasound, crossmatch, and full panel labs. I need two units of O-negative ready. Let's get her into OR three now." My instructions were clipped, clear, devoid of any personal connection.

The team moved like clockwork. The gurney was already rolling towards the operating theaters. Cassius made a move to follow.

"Sir, you can wait in the lounge," a security guard tried to intervene.

Cassius pushed past him, his eyes still fixed on Kori. "No! I'm going with her!"

He reached out, grabbing my arm. His grip was surprisingly strong. It was familiar. Too familiar. The warmth of his skin, the faint scent of his expensive cologne, it all slammed into me.

"Alana, you can't," he muttered, his voice low, strained. "You can't do this. Not to us. Not now."

His words hit me like a splash of cold water, ironically reinforcing my professional detachment. "Cassius, let go of my arm," I said, my voice an icy whisper. "I am Dr. Hays. And this is my hospital. If you interfere, I will have you removed."

He flinched, his grip loosening slightly. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he spat, his eyes narrowing. "Seeing us like this. After everything. You want revenge."

The accusation hung in the air, heavy and poisonous. It was a raw wound, ripped open again. But I refused to bleed. Not here. Not now.

I pulled my arm away, clean and decisive. "Your wife is in critical condition, Mr. Coleman. Her life, and your child's, depends on my team's speed and skill. If you believe my past history with you compromises my ability to provide the best care, I can arrange for her immediate transfer to another facility. It will cost precious minutes, perhaps even her life. Your choice."

He stared at me, his jaw clenched, his face a mask of conflict. He wanted to argue, to fight, but the gravity of the situation pressed down on him. He saw the cold, hard logic in my words, even if he couldn't stomach the person delivering them.

"Sign the consent forms now, Mr. Coleman," a nurse said, holding out a clipboard and a pen. "It outlines the risks. And the potential outcomes."

He snatched the pen, his hand trembling as he scrawled his signature. It was messy, barely legible. A testament to his fear, or maybe his unwilling trust. He gave me one last look, a mixture of hatred and desperate hope.

I turned away, heading towards the scrub room. The doors to OR three swung shut behind me.

Inside the operating room, the air was cold and sterile. The fluorescent lights hummed, casting a stark glow on the surgical instruments. My team moved with practiced efficiency. Everything was about precision, speed, and saving lives.

The surgery was long, tense, and ultimately, successful. We stabilized Kori, stopped the bleeding, and secured the baby. Both lives, for now, were safe.

I peeled off my gloves, the faint scent of antiseptics clinging to my skin. I walked to the scrub sink, turning on the cold water. It rushed over my hands, cleansing, purifying. It was a ritual, a way to wash away the day, the stress, the lives held in my hands.

My reflection stared back at me in the polished steel. My eyes, usually guarded, held a quiet victory. A life saved. Two, actually. And the person whose life I had saved? The one who had systematically dismantled mine, piece by painful piece?

The cold water running over my skin felt oddly grounding. Three years. Three years since my world imploded. Three years since I last saw Cassius, since Kori had smiled sweetly while taking everything that was once mine.

I thought their pain would feel like a victory. A vindication. But standing here, feeling the chill of the water, there was nothing. No triumph, no anger, no satisfaction. Just a profound emptiness where those emotions used to be.

It was almost unsettling, this quiet. This absence of feeling for the people who had once consumed my every waking thought. The people who had inflicted wounds so deep I once thought they'd never heal.

But they had. Or, at least, the scars left behind were no longer raw. They were reminders, not open wounds.

The OR doors opened behind me. I heard footsteps approaching. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The sharp scent of his cologne, the heavy silence that followed him, it was all too familiar.

The man who had once been my everything, now reduced to a patient's husband. The woman who had stolen my life, now a patient on my table. And I, the surgeon, the one who had saved them.

The irony wasn' t lost on me. It was a cold, hard truth. I had saved them. And it felt like nothing.

I turned off the tap, the sound echoing in the quiet room. I dried my hands meticulously. The past. It was here, it was real, but it no longer held me captive. Or so I told myself.

"She's stable," I said, not looking at him, not really seeing him. "The baby is fine for now, but she'll need close monitoring."

Cassius remained silent. I could feel his gaze on my back, heavy and intense. I braced myself for another accusation, another emotional attack. But it didn't come.

Instead, I heard him clear his throat. A shaky, uncertain sound.

"Alana," he began, his voice softer this time, almost hesitant. "Thank you."

The words hung in the air, foreign and unexpected. I didn't respond. There was nothing to say. I just walked past him, heading for the exit. My shift was over, but something told me, this ordeal was far from it.