Chapter 1

1: 1

The heart transplant was about to begin. I took a deep breath and headed for the operating room.

Murray Gilbert, the department's deputy head, was scheduled to second-assist and see the case through with me.

But at the door to the operating room, he put out an arm and stopped me.

"Bailey Whitfield, you can't go in."

I froze. "Why? The patient's already waiting."

Gilbert said coldly, "Hospital rules. No operating within twenty-four hours of drinking. You've been drinking."

I shook my head at once. "I haven't—"

"I can smell it on you!" Gilbert cut me off, his voice suddenly rising. "One little tremor of the fingers after drinking, and the patient could die on the table. I'm looking out for the patient."

The clock was closing in on us. I forced my temper down. "Then I'll go to the lab and have my blood drawn. One test and you'll know whether there's any alcohol."

Gilbert didn't move aside. He looked at me with a contempt I'd never seen in him before.

"Bailey, do you want this surgery that badly?"

"The operation goes well, the credit and the glory are all yours. But you can't gamble with a patient's life."

Before he'd finished, the patient's family came running at the noise. The father grabbed my arm, crying. "Let a doctor who's been drinking operate? No way! We don't want you doing this surgery!"

Gilbert stood off to the side, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

……

The family caught me by the collar, shoving and hitting me. "You've gone too far. How could you drink before a surgery? Do you even care whether this patient lives or dies?"

Their shouting drew a crowd of other families over to watch.

Someone pulled out a phone and started quietly recording.

I held my patience and tried to explain. "You've got it wrong. I slept in the on-call room last night. I never drank anything."

"My colleague can vouch for me. I can go get him."

Hearing that, the family wavered, half believing me.

But Gilbert let out a cold laugh. "Everyone in this department knows how well liked Dr. Whitfield is."

"And who's this colleague of yours? Bought and paid for already, I'd bet."

"A text from you in a little while, or even just a look, and of course he'll cover for you."

That one remark made the family angrier.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and said urgently, "The surgical plan is already set. How can you switch surgeons at the last minute?"

"And we're almost at start time. I still need to change into my scrubs and scrub in. Every minute we lose is another minute of danger for the patient."

"Even if the patient could wait, the donor heart can't."

"Are you really willing to put the patient at risk?"

"Since you don't believe me, how about I go have my blood drawn and tested right now?"

But the family said, "Who has time to wait around for your test? We're demanding a different surgeon!"

"This hospital has plenty of doctors. You think nobody can be treated without you?"

Gilbert walked over, pleased with himself, and patted my shoulder. "Bailey, stop being stubborn. Respect the family's wishes."

My hands clenched into fists with anger. "If this turns into a medical accident, can you answer for it?"

Gilbert only sneered. "The accident would be because you were drinking. Why should anyone else answer for it?"

"Bailey, so young, and already so good at pushing the blame onto other people."

Right as the two of us were arguing, the deputy hospital director came over.

He said, startled, "Bailey, what's going on? The surgery's about to start. Why aren't you in the OR yet?"

Before I could speak, Gilbert jumped in first. "Bailey's been drinking. Per the rules, she can't operate within twenty-four hours."