The Cold Surgeon's Contract Bride novel Chapter 184

After delivering that reprimand, I pulled my gaze back. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Zoey looking thoroughly indignant and humiliated.

Whatever. The man standing next to her would always find a way to comfort her.

But a second later, a chaotic roar erupted around me. I followed the noise and saw a mob of reporters rushing toward us, shouldering heavy camera gear and chanting things about the "truck driver."

A terrible wave of dread crashed over my chest.

One reporter's booming voice cut through the noise: "I guarantee the driver who caused the pileup was brought to Capital General, and he's definitely among these casualties! Look for him!"

The stretcher jolted unexpectedly. I kept my head down, focusing on my work, but a blood-soaked ID card slipped out of the patient's pocket. Emblazoned across the top were the words: Commercial Freight License.

My heart seized. But before I could react, Leon's hand darted out and shoved the license back into the pocket.

Our eyes locked. I stared at Leon in sheer panic, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I knew we were both thinking the exact same thing.

The man we were desperately trying to save was highly likely the monster who had caused the massive multi-car pileup that morning.

I prayed silently that the journalists wouldn't notice, but my hands shook slightly as I held the equipment.

"Look over there! Does that guy look like a truck driver to you?"

The shout echoed through the crowd. Instantly, the patient's throat muscles spasmed, and the oxygen saturation on the monitor plummeted to eighty-two percent. Dropping at this rate, the man was seconds away from death.

"Yes, that's him!" another voice roared in agreement. "He's a murderer! Don't save him!"

A plastic water bottle suddenly slammed into my waist. My hand jerked, and watching the swaying privacy curtain, my heart leapt into my throat.

"What do we do?" I looked at Leon anxiously. "This..."

My mind had been chaotic before stepping into the room, but the second I stood at the operating table, absolute calm washed over me.

Two hours later, the patient was stabilized and transferred to the ICU. Leon and I breathed a massive sigh of relief as we finally exited the OR.

But the second I stepped out, an egg came flying through the air, smashing violently against my head.

"Why did you save him?!" A middle-aged woman, her face streaked with tears, stood a few feet away, screaming hysterically. "Because you saved him, my daughter will never rest in peace!"

The rapid-fire clicking of camera shutters surrounded me. Before my brain could even process what had happened, a harsh reprimand cracked in my ear: "Get back inside! Are you trying to make a fool of yourself out here?"

It was Ferris.

I was shoved and hurried away by my colleagues, escaping the public eye.

As I hurried down the corridor, a news alert flashed on a nearby screen: Capital General Hospital Shields Murderer. Looking closely, the blurred-out face of the female doctor in the footage was undeniably me.