Chapter 1

1: 1

Lucretia James had a severe order obsession.

As a surgeon, she'd set an iron rule.

Every surgery ran on the schedule. No one got her to break it.

The day my father was dying, I begged her to come in half an hour early.

She refused, her voice flat.

"The surgery's slotted for three. One minute early and you've broken the process."

But the moment she turned around, Julian Simmons said his chest felt off, and she scrapped her schedule and rushed to his side.

This was the third time.

The first, my father had a post-op infection. She said it wasn't on the schedule, then sat through Julian's IV drip with him.

The second, my father went into sudden heart failure. She said it wasn't time yet, then went to celebrate Julian's birthday.

This time, my father lay in the emergency room, his blood pressure already too low to register.

I called her, my eyes burning.

It took nine calls before she picked up.

"The surgery time hasn't come up on the schedule. No amount of calling is going to change that."

"Every patient follows the order. I'm not making an exception just because he's my father-in-law."

She hung up.

Half an hour later, my father's heart monitor flatlined.

The doctors said if the surgeon had arrived twenty minutes sooner, he might have been saved.

I signed the death confirmation alone, and drew the white sheet up over my father.

That was when my phone lit up.

A message from Lucretia James.

"Get Dad ready. I'll operate at three, right on time."

I looked at the screen and calmly slid off my wedding ring.

Lucretia James, the person waiting for you to save his life will never get to three now.

……

I dropped the ring into the medical waste bin.

The staff wheeled my father's body into the cold storage.

The digital clock on the wall ticked over to 3:20 in the afternoon. The corridor was dead silent.

Pain came in waves through my stomach. Two months ago the doctor had confirmed I had severe stomach ulcers and needed to be admitted for treatment as soon as possible.

I'd meant to wait until my father was safely through his surgery before telling Lucretia the diagnosis.

Now I didn't want her to know at all.

My phone rang. Lucretia.

The second I answered, she asked, holding down her anger.

"Connor Cooley, where did you take Dad?"

"His surgery slot is up, and you took him off on your own. Do you have any idea how badly that disrupts the whole department's process?"

I looked at the sealed doors of the cold storage, and suddenly even an explanation felt pointless.

"You don't need to operate anymore."

Then I hung up.

The cramping in my stomach nearly took my legs out from under me.

I braced against the wall and made my way, step by step, to the billing window on the first floor.

I'd just finished the paperwork for holding the body and turned around when I ran straight into Lucretia James in her white coat.

Julian Simmons was leaning weakly against her side, draped in her jacket.

She saw me and frowned.

"Why did you hang up on me?"

"I came in on schedule. Stop throwing a tantrum over Dad's surgery."

Julian tugged at her sleeve.

"Lucretia, don't blame Connor."

"He's just worried sick about your father. He did it to make you take this seriously."

"After all, it was only my chest bothering me, and you came to me first. It's only natural he'd feel put out."

Lucretia's frown deepened.

"Julian's readings were abnormal. Of course I went to him first. Your father's in the emergency room, so there's a doctor on duty to handle it. There's no need to come to me for every little thing."

"And don't think being my husband means everyone has to clear the way for the two of you."

Right then, Lucretia's mother came over carrying a bag of imported fruit.

"Connor, how can you be so unreasonable?"

"Lucretia works so hard doing surgeries all day, and you keep pestering her with your father's illness!"

"Julian's a frail boy. What's wrong with Lucretia looking after him? Do you really have to hide the old man away and make a scene?"

I looked at the three of them and found the whole thing absurd.

My father wasn't even cold, and they were sure I was jealous.

I looked at Lucretia and said it word by word.

"I'll say it one more time. I don't need you to operate."

"Because my father is dead. Half an hour ago. Resuscitation failed."

Her brows drew together, then her face went cold again.

"Connor Cooley, do you think using something like that to force me to back down is funny?"

"I read his chart. Half an hour late wouldn't have caused a thing. You hide him away and cook up a lie like this, and it just makes me despise you more."

She pulled her gaze away, indifferent.

"Since you're set on giving up the surgery slot, I'll reclaim the VIP recovery suite and the special-drug allocation and give them to someone who actually needs them."

"Break the process, and you pay for it."

Her mother sneered at once.

"That's how it should be. An old man with one foot in the grave, taking up a ward that nice is a waste of resources."

Lucretia frowned and cut her off. "Mom, that's enough."

But she never took back what she'd just decided.

I pressed save on the recording, keeping every word of it.

"Suit yourself."

I turned and walked out of the hospital.