I was an obstetrician. After being reincarnated, I swapped my husband and our sponsored student's embryo with a healthier one during an IVF procedure.
In my previous life, the student's in-laws had demanded she conceive before marriage to prove her fertility. Desperate and fearful, she begged me to perform a secret IVF procedure. I agreed, blinded by pity and my trust in her as part of our family.
After multiple failed attempts—due to the poor quality of the sperm donor she provided—she couldn't sustain a pregnancy. Her grief turned into rage and she accused me of malpractice. Publicly, she claimed I falsified my credentials, intentionally caused her miscarriage and played God with her life.
I thought my husband would defend me, but he stood against me in court, accusing me of practicing medicine illegally. My world crumbled as I was fired from the hospital, stripped of my license and sentenced to life in prison. There, abandoned by everyone I had ever trusted, I lost my mind. The day I died, slamming my head against the cold, unyielding wall, was supposed to end my suffering.
But death revealed the truth. The poor-quality sperm? It had been my husband's all along. He and the student had conspired against me, their affair predating her pleas for help. The IVF procedure had never been about her future marriage—it was a calculated trap to ruin me and take everything I had built.
They succeeded. My downfall handed them more than a million dollars in compensation, my villa and every piece of property I owned. And now, in this life, I won't let them win again.
***
When I opened my eyes again, sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains of my bedroom, casting warm, golden patterns on the wooden floor. The faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air, a reminder of the diffuser I had always kept by the bedside. My chest rose and fell as I inhaled deeply, the sensation foreign, yet achingly familiar.
I was alive.
The realization hit me like a tidal wave as my gaze landed on the antique mirror hanging above the dresser. My reflection stared back—unscarred by betrayal and despair. The room was just as I remembered, filled with the modest furnishings Isaac and I had chosen together before our lives were consumed by ambition and deceit.
I had returned.
Memories from my previous life surged through me like an unrelenting storm. My chest tightened and I clenched my fists against the soft sheets, the fabric grounding me in this impossible reality.
Jessica.
Her name sliced through my thoughts, dragging me back to that fateful day.
"Mrs. Johnson, you're a highly skilled doctor. Helping me with an IVF procedure should be no problem for you, right?"
That voice. Sweet, melodic and calculated.
I looked up sharply, my heart thudding in my chest. There she stood, our sponsored student of ten years, her youthful face radiating innocence that I now knew masked pure malice. Her dark eyes sparkled with feigned desperation, her slender fingers clutching at the strap of her worn leather bag as though she were a victim in need of salvation.
The air seemed to thicken and for a moment, I struggled to breathe. But I forced a smile, steadying my trembling hands.
"Of course, Jessica," I replied, my voice smooth despite the storm brewing inside me.
She didn't notice my clenched jaw or the way my nails dug into my palm. Memories of my past life screamed at me to act, but I held them at bay. If she wanted to play her game, I would let her. Only this time, I wouldn't lose.
I glanced around the room again, the ache in my chest dulling as the familiar surroundings anchored me. This was my second chance—a gift.
In my previous life, Jessica's story had seemed heartbreaking. She was a student Isaac and I had sponsored, a bright girl with dreams of becoming an engineer. Her hard work and dedication had earned her a scholarship to a prestigious university. She was supposed to be the pride of our household, a symbol of the good we had done in the world.
But all of that shattered when she came to me, eyes brimming with tears, begging for help. Her fiancé's family, bound by outdated customs, demanded she conceive before marriage. She claimed it was her only chance to secure her future.
I had believed her then. Pity and a sense of duty overrode my better judgment. I bent the rules, ignoring the absence of a marriage certificate and arranged for her IVF procedure.
The failure of those procedures was devastating—for both of us, or so I thought. Each failed pregnancy weighed heavily on my heart. The issue, as I discovered later, was the sperm she provided: poor quality, with little chance of producing viable embryos.
I had tried everything—adjusting protocols, consulting international colleagues, even investing in newer, cutting-edge equipment at my own expense. But it was futile. No doctor could have made it work.
When I finally refused to continue, Jessica's sorrow turned into fury. The sweetness in her demeanor vanished, replaced by venomous accusations.
"Dr. Johnson, the head of obstetrics, not only falsified her credentials but is also an incompetent doctor who deliberately caused my miscarriage!" she screamed in the hospital lobby, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Her words echoed in my mind even now. I remembered the icy chill that gripped me as I watched the nurses and patients whispering, their eyes filled with doubt and disgust.
But the deepest wound came from Isaac.
"You can't even have children yourself—you're a barren woman! And now you've gone and killed Jessica's baby!" he had shouted in court, his voice ringing with fury and conviction.
My breath hitched at the memory, the betrayal cutting as sharply now as it had then. My husband—my partner—had turned against me, testifying that I had practiced medicine illegally, providing "evidence" that painted me as a monster in a white coat.
The media had descended like vultures, plastering my name across every headline.
[Heartless Doctor Ruins Lives: Infertile Woman Accused of Malpractice]
[Quack Obstetrician Causes Tragedy for Aspiring Mother!]
The hospital where I had poured my life's work into was vandalized, its windows shattered and walls defaced with hateful graffiti.
And me? I had been reduced to nothing more than a target for the public's rage. Online forums buzzed with comments that called for my death.
[She deserves to rot in prison!]
[She's a killer in a doctor coat!]
[Doctors like her should be banned for life. No, better yet, jailed!]
I had lost everything: my career, my reputation, my freedom. And as I stared into the cold, unfeeling walls of my prison cell, I lost my will to live.
Because there was no official documentation of the IVF procedure, I was convicted of illegal medical practice and sentenced to life imprisonment. The courtroom had been cold and unfeeling, the judge's gavel striking down my fate with a finality that echoed in my soul.
Prison was worse.
The damp, suffocating cell walls bore silent witness to my despair. In the end, unable to bear the humiliation, betrayal and the relentless voices that called me a murderer, I lost my mind.
I could still feel the rough stone wall pressing against my forehead, the sharp, blinding pain as I slammed my head into it over and over. Blood had sprayed across the floor like crimson blossoms, staining the gray concrete with my final act of desperation. My lifeless body wasn't discovered until dawn, cold and contorted in a puddle of my own making.
The memory made my hands tremble. My breath hitched as I forced myself to focus on the present.
"Mrs. Johnson?"
Jessica's voice pulled me back to reality. Her fingers gripped my arm, the touch cold despite her outward charm. When I turned to face her, her lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes—a smile I now recognized for what it was.
"You're the head of obstetrics at Baywood Hospital," she said sweetly, her voice dripping with false sincerity. "You can figure out a way to do the IVF procedure even without a marriage certificate, right?"
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. The last time, I had faltered under her manipulative pleas. This time, I straightened my posture, planting my feet firmly on the ground.
"No."
The single word left my lips like a bullet.
Jessica's eyes widened, her perfectly rehearsed expression faltering. For a moment, the mask slipped, revealing the surprise and irritation she had so carefully hidden.
"What do you mean, no?" she stammered, her voice laced with disbelief.
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I slipped my hand into my pocket, my fingers brushing against my phone. Without a word, I pressed the record button. My gaze locked onto hers, sharp and unwavering.
"You want to cut corners?" I said, my voice clear and resolute. "Performing an unauthorized procedure is illegal. I will never agree to it."
I took a deliberate step back, putting more distance between us and continued in a calm but firm tone. "To undergo IVF, you must have a marriage certificate. Both spouses must be present and the verification process must be completed before the procedure can be arranged. Those are the rules."
Jessica blinked, her façade cracking further. She stepped closer, her tone softening as she attempted to regain control.
"Oh, come on, Mrs. Johnson," she pleaded, her voice trembling with feigned desperation. "You know my situation. If I don't get pregnant, I won't be allowed to marry into Ethan's family."
Her eyes glistened as she added, "He and I truly love each other. Please, just help me this once."
Her voice caught and she squeezed out a tear, letting it roll down her cheek. She clasped her hands together, leaning in as though her proximity might sway me. "If there were any other way, I wouldn't be begging you like this. I sought you out because I know how skilled you are."
The sight would have melted my heart once, but now it filled me with nothing but icy contempt. Her act was flawless—innocent, vulnerable and utterly false.
In my previous life, I had believed her lies. I had been blinded by my desire to help and had walked straight into her trap.
This time, I wouldn't let history repeat itself.
A cold laugh escaped my lips. Jessica froze, her tearful expression wavering.
"What kind of true love," I said slowly, my voice laced with irony, "demands that a woman prove her fertility before marriage?"
I straightened, my expression hardening. "I'm done wasting my time with you."
Just as I was about to usher her out of my room, the distinct click of the front door lock echoed through the house. I froze, my gaze drawn to the entrance as it swung open. Isaac stepped inside, his familiar scent of cologne washing over me.
He stopped short, his gaze flicking between Jessica and me. His brow furrowed, but before I could say a word, he smiled at Jessica.
"What's going on?" he asked lightly, his tone far too casual for the tension in the room.
Jessica turned to him, her face lighting up with relief. "Mr. Johnson!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. "Mrs. Johnson doesn't want to help me with the procedure. She's saying it's illegal without a marriage certificate."
Isaac frowned, turning to me with a look of mild exasperation.
"Lola, it's just an IVF procedure," he said, his tone soothing yet dismissive. "Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Just help Jessica out. I've met the guy—he's a good kid."
My stomach churned as I watched the two of them. Jessica's lips curved into a soft smile, her eyes meeting Isaac's with an unspoken understanding that sent a chill down my spine.
In the past, I had been too preoccupied with work to notice the way they gravitated toward each other, the subtle intimacy in their interactions. Now, with my memories intact, it was painfully obvious. They weren't just close—they were partners in crime.
"No," I said firmly, stepping between them. "Rules are rules. Jessica, if you want the procedure done, bring me your marriage certificate or find another hospital."
Jessica opened her mouth to argue, but I was done listening.
I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her outside. "I already said no and no means no." With a loud bang, I slammed the door shut behind her.
Isaac's voice rose behind me, tinged with frustration. "Honey, you don't have to be so heartless, do you? Jessica and her boyfriend really love each other. Can't you just help them out?"
I turned to face him, my chest tight with anger and disgust. The man I had once loved now seemed like a stranger, his betrayal written in every line of his face.
Without a word, I grabbed a suitcase and began packing my belongings.
"What are you doing?" Isaac demanded, his voice rising with panic.
I didn't answer. My mind was made up. I would leave this house and this man who had betrayed me in my past life.
By the time I zipped up the suitcase and headed for the door, Isaac was practically begging me to stay.
But I didn't look back.
I moved into a hotel near the hospital, planning to wait until things settled down before filing for divorce. However, what I didn't expect was that early the next morning, Jessica showed up at my office—with a marriage certificate and her fiancé—asking for a consultation.
"Mrs. Johnson, can you perform the procedure for us now? I did all you asked."
Jessica stood before me, her smile composed and sweet, but her eyes glimmered with malice. Beside her was a man I had never seen before—tall, well-dressed, but with a stiffness to his posture, as if he were a hired actor playing a role. I stared at them, utterly stunned. They had no intention of leaving me alone. They even went as far as finding someone to pose as her fiancé to continue their charade.
My mind raced, desperately searching for a way to refuse them. But just as I opened my mouth, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was the vice director of the hospital.
"Lola," he began in a tone that tried to sound casual but carried undeniable authority. "Jessica is my friend's daughter. I know their situation—she has to be pregnant to marry into the family."
I gripped the phone tightly, my knuckles whitening. This wasn't the vice director speaking; it was Isaac pulling strings from behind the scenes.
"You're the best doctor we have, the best in the country," he continued, his voice almost coaxing. "You trained abroad, didn't you? That's why I trust you to handle this case personally."
I stayed silent, anger simmering beneath my calm exterior.
"And listen," he added, his voice lowering, "I hate to say this, but refusing this case might not look good for you. You're up for a promotion at the end of the year, remember?"
The line went dead, leaving me no room to argue. My escape route was effectively cut off. I could almost hear Isaac's smug voice behind the vice director's words. Jessica's family wasn't influential; her father worked as a mechanic in the outskirts of town. There was no way they had connections to the hospital director, much less the vice director. This was Isaac's handiwork and Jessica's smirk confirmed it.
Her lips curled ever so slightly, as if savoring her victory.
A plan quickly formed in my mind. If she wanted a child so desperately, then fine—I would give her one. Only, it wouldn't be the one she expected.
I drew in a steadying breath and forced a smile. "Very well. Let's proceed. I'll arrange everything for you."
Jessica's glee was barely concealed as I handed her the surgical consent form. She signed it eagerly, her fake fiancé adding his signature with an awkward flourish.
"This is the procedure plan. Once you sign, we can move forward today." I placed the papers on the desk and handed her the pen, watching her eyes light up.
When the time came, Jessica was wheeled into the operating room, her demeanor one of smug triumph. As the anesthesia began to take effect, her fake fiancé hovered nervously by the door before being escorted out by a nurse.
In the privacy of the lab, I made my move. Swapping the sperm vial took mere seconds, my practiced hands moving with precision honed over years of experience. The replacement vial—a donor sample of impeccable quality—was carefully labeled and prepped.
The rest of the procedure was carried out by my capable mentee, a young doctor eager to prove herself. I quietly left the OR, knowing I had completed my part.
Without hesitation, I returned to my office, removed my white coat and packed my personal belongings. The resignation letter I had prepared sat waiting on my desk. I signed it with a flourish and handed it to the department secretary before walking out of the hospital without looking back.
When Isaac returned home that evening, he found the house eerily quiet. The furniture remained, but all my personal belongings were gone.
"Honey? Are you home?" His voice echoed through the empty rooms.
I waited in the living room, a stack of papers in hand. When he saw me, his expression shifted from confusion to alarm.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Wordlessly, I handed him the divorce papers. "We're splitting the assets equally. Just sign."
He stared at me in disbelief. "What? Lola, why are you doing this? What happened? Are you in trouble? If there's a problem, we can handle it together—"
"Spare me the drama, Isaac." My voice was cold, void of emotion. "This is happening, whether you like it or not. If you refuse, I'll take it to court. But rest assured, I'll win."
For a moment, his mask slipped and panic flashed across his face. But he quickly recovered, putting on his usual charming act and pleading with me.
In my previous life, I would have wavered. But now, the memories of his betrayal and my tragic death hardened my resolve.
After a few minutes, he reluctantly signed the papers, his hand trembling slightly.
"I'll see you in court to finalize this after the one-month cooling-off period," I said, taking the signed documents.
I thought I could finally move on, that Jessica and Isaac would leave me alone. But life had other plans.
Just as the cooling-off period was about to end, Jessica showed up at the hospital in a fit of rage. Her once-flawless composure was shattered, replaced by fury and desperation.
"Dr. Johnson is a quack! She ruined me!" Jessica screamed, her voice echoing through the hospital lobby. A crowd quickly gathered, whispering and pointing.
Her face was twisted with hatred, her voice cracking as she continued to hurl accusations.
"Not only did she make me lose my baby, but she destroyed my chances of ever becoming a mother!"
Her words sent a ripple of unease through the onlookers. Among them were former patients of mine, their own failed procedures fueling their anger.
"It's the doctor's fault then! She's the reason we can't have children!" one woman shouted.
The lobby descended into chaos, the voices of the crowd growing louder and more hostile. My students and the hospital director scrambled to contain the situation, frantically calling for security.
My phone buzzed insistently in my pocket. The hospital director's voice was tense. "Lola, you need to get down here immediately. This situation is spiraling out of control."
