Reborn The Nurse's Revenge on Her Cheating Ex

My fiancé's intern nurse bragged every day about being a brave little lamb.

She even gave a patient the wrong medication and caused an allergic reaction, yet still bragged:

"This time Charlotte only messed up one medication—I'm the most awesome little lamb!"

Until I scrolled past one of her posts:

[Brave Little Lamb On-Call Diary: Another night protected by the tattooed knight~ the little lamb is the happiest~]

The attached photo showed her punk childhood friend with a cigarette dangling from his lips, casually handling precious medication.

In my past life, after seeing this post, I immediately reported it to leadership and got Raymond James banned from the hospital.

That night, when Charlotte Cooley was on duty alone, she got into an argument with a psychiatric patient.

The patient lost control and stabbed her thirteen times.

But my fiancé, Kevin Dickerson, grabbed my throat with bloodshot eyes.

"It's all because you got Charlotte killed. You knew she was afraid of the dark—why didn't you cover her shift?"

Her childhood friend tied me up in an abandoned operating room, cut open my stomach, and pulled out my unformed fetus.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I'd scrolled past that post.

This time, I set down my phone and made myself a cup of tea.

When this brave little lamb personally sends you to hell, I hope you'll still love her this much.

…

The glow from my phone screen stabbed at my eyes.

[Brave Little Lamb On-Call Diary: Night shift check-in! Some menopausal hag won't cover my shift, but luckily the tattooed knight is protecting me~]

In the picture, a tattoo-covered arm toyed with anti-cancer medication that was supposed to be kept frozen. Charlotte Cooley wore her nurse's cap, tongue out, winking. The nurses' station was clearly visible behind her.

"Head Nurse Harding!" A hurried voice called out.

Bella Chavez looked at me with concern. "You look terrible. Feeling sick? Want to lie down?"

Only then did I snap back to reality.

I had been reborn.

Back to the moment I saw that show-off post.

My whole body went cold. I could still hear the tearing sound of a blade slicing through flesh. Still feel the searing pain of my abdominal cavity being brutally emptied.

In my past life, the moment I saw this viral post, I rushed straight to the on-duty doctor's office to find Kevin Dickerson.

I told him Charlotte had let a civilian pose as medical staff to stay overnight—a serious violation that had to be stopped immediately.

Kevin was knitting a scarf for Charlotte. He didn't even look up.

"Brooklyn, you're too sensitive. Charlotte's childhood friend just came to keep her company. She's a young girl—she gets scared working nights. Stop targeting her."

"But he's unlicensed, and she posted it online. If something happens—"

He cut me off. "What could happen? Rules are dead; people are alive. You want to make a big deal out of it? Ruin her future over nothing?"

"Charlotte's just posting for fun. She knows her limits. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill."

His favoritism was a blade twisting in my chest.

I reported it to leadership anyway.

When the nursing department came to check, her childhood friend had already slipped away. They found nothing.

Charlotte cried like a rain-soaked flower, insisting it was just a friend delivering milk tea—that I was maliciously framing her.

Kevin publicly accused me of being jealous that the intern was young and popular.

The matter was dropped.

Later, he became convinced my report was what got Charlotte killed.

He lured me to an abandoned clinic in the suburbs.

Together with that punk, they used my life—and my child's—as an offering to Charlotte.

"Charlotte going alone is too lonely. You and the baby can keep her company."

…

"Brooklyn, you're crying?" Bella asked, panicked, handing me a tissue.

My voice came out hoarse. "Just tired. Charlotte's on duty tonight—have security keep an eye on things."