Chapter 3

Three hours passed.

Eleanor didn't get me in her operating room. Instead, her retaliation arrived right on schedule.

Two federal investigators and campus security stormed into my lab, their faces rigid.

"Dr. Ethan Moore? We received a formal whistleblower complaint alleging embezzlement and grant fraud. You need to come with us for questioning."

Before I could answer, Lucas lunged forward.

"That’s complete bullshit!"

His eyes were wide with disbelief as he blocked their path.

"You’ve got the wrong guy! Anyone else in this hospital could steal, but not Dr. Moore!"

Tears of fury welled in Lucas's eyes.

"When our budget ran out three years ago, he sold his own house to pay the team's salaries!"

"He put up his late father’s estate as collateral just to secure the bridge loan! How dare you—"

"Lucas, that’s enough!" I cut him off sharply.

Lucas clamped his mouth shut, his shoulders shaking with rage.

I looked around the room.

Several lab technicians immediately looked away, staring at the floor in guilty silence.

I had personally recruited them. They had been by my side since day one.

I had never once shortchanged them.

"You guys did great," I murmured softly. "I’ll remember this."

My security badge was confiscated on the spot.

My hard drives and research logs were seized. To ensure I didn't flee the country, they held my passport.

Moments later, my personal phone rang. It was Eleanor.

"Ready to surrender?" she purred.

"Never."

The next morning, Eleanor launched a full-scale PR offensive.

A video went viral on TikTok and Twitter. She sat in front of a camera, tears streaming down her face, begging the cold-hearted doctor to save her dying soulmate.

"I don't know what grudge this surgeon holds against us, but my partner is innocent."

"He has been confined to a hospital bed for ten years, watching the world only through a window."

"His only wish before he dies is to feel the ocean breeze one last time, to see the winter snow."

"I beg of you, give him a chance."

"If Dr. Moore agrees to operate, the Moore Foundation will donate fifty million dollars immediately to pediatric cardiology research!"

The internet exploded.

With paid bots fanning the flames, I became public enemy number one within hours.

[Who the hell is this monster? A complete sociopath!]

[A dying man is begging for his life and this doctor is playing god? Revoke his license!]

[Moore Foundation, please notice me! If he won't do it, someone drag him into the OR! My little brother needs a transplant, can we get assistance...]

[Whatever happened to the Hippocratic Oath? He’s a murderer in a white coat!]

[Rot in hell!]

Online vigilantes doxxed me by noon.

My real name, my license plate, my apartment address—everything was leaked.

Coupled with the news that I was under federal investigation for fraud, the mob went wild.

Furious protesters and frantic family members gathered outside my apartment complex.

The moment I stepped into the underground garage, rotten eggs and plastic bottles rained down on me.

"Murderer! Scumbag!"

"Cancel his license! Put him in jail!"

In less than twenty-four hours, I had been turned into a hunted rat.