"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."

"First of all, IVF isn't a guaranteed success!" My voice was firm, cutting through the rising din of the crowd.

Upon receiving the call, I immediately returned to the hospital to address the situation. I straightened, meeting the gaze of each protester. "Find me an obstetrician who can guarantee conception under such poor conditions!"

The murmuring crowd faltered for a moment, their outrage wavering under the weight of reason.

"Besides," I added, my tone cold and resolute, "I resigned a month ago. Rioting here won't change a thing!"

The hospital lobby was brightly lit, but the tension in the air made it feel stifling. Angry faces surrounded me, their voices growing softer as rationality began to seep in. Some of the more composed members of the crowd started to exchange hesitant glances.

"She's right," a voice piped up from the back. It was a middle-aged man clutching his wife's hand. "No matter how skilled a doctor is, the success of IVF depends on many factors. It's never a guarantee."

Another person nodded in agreement. "And if she already quit, there's no point in causing a scene here. What do you hope to achieve?"

For a brief moment, I felt a flicker of relief. Unlike in my previous life, where I had been too paralyzed with fear to defend myself, I stood firm this time, unshaken by their accusations.

But Jessica wasn't finished. Her eyes narrowed and her lips twisted into a cruel smile. She played her next card, her voice trembling with calculated indignation.

"Even so, we did everything you asked, but I still didn't get pregnant. Doesn't that mean it's your fault?" she cried, her voice cracking for dramatic effect.

Before I could respond, she stepped forward and pointed an accusatory finger at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can't conceive because of you! And who knows if you're even a real doctor? You've probably broken some rules! That's why I'm still not pregnant!"

Her words ignited the simmering anger in the crowd. A group of middle-aged women—many of whom had failed IVF procedures themselves—rallied behind her. Their wailing and accusations filled the lobby, turning the atmosphere into bedlam.

Jessica dropped to her knees, sobbing hysterically, her face buried in her hands. The dramatic display tugged at the emotions of those watching, both in the room and online.

The faint sound of a notification ping echoed through the lobby. Jessica had started a livestream and the viewer count skyrocketed almost instantly. The camera zoomed in on her tear-streaked face as she recounted her fabricated tragedy.

"She ruined me!" Jessica screamed into the camera. "She made me lose my baby and now I never have the chance of ever being a mother!"

The comments section exploded with outrage.

[Monster!]

[She should lose her medical license!]

[Justice for Jessica!]

The mob turned hostile, their anger fueled by the vitriol online. Someone threw an empty plastic bottle at me and it bounced harmlessly off my shoulder. Others began shouting insults, their words cutting deep.

I stayed rooted, my expression calm despite the uproar swirling around me. I remembered this moment from my previous life—the same scene, the same accusations. But this time, I wouldn't let them break me.

"You claim you can never have children again—do you have proof?" I asked, my voice steady and unyielding.

Jessica's tearful performance faltered for a split second before she pulled a document from her bag with a flourish. It was a laboratory report, one she had undoubtedly prepared beforehand.

"See for yourself!" she snapped, thrusting the paper toward me. "It was because of the procedure you performed that I had a natural miscarriage and lost my ability to have children!"

Her voice dripped with righteous fury and she waved the certificate in the air for the cameras to see.

I didn't flinch. "There's a significant difference between infertility caused by a miscarriage and infertility caused by deliberately terminating a pregnancy," I said calmly.

I caught the eye of my student, who was standing nervously at the edge of the crowd. "Have a look at her lab report," I instructed. "It won't take long to confirm the truth."

The young doctor nodded quickly and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Jessica visibly unsettled.

She quickly masked her unease with more accusations. "And not only did she violate regulations," Jessica cried, her voice rising again, "she's a corrupt doctor who took countless bribes! Her own husband can testify to everything I'm saying!"

The crowd turned to look as Jessica dragged Isaac out of the throng. He straightened his jacket and stood tall, his expression smug.

"I'm Isaac Johnson," he announced for the cameras, his voice filled with false gravitas. "I'm Lola's husband. And it's true—she's done many unforgivable things."

I clenched my fists at my sides, anger bubbling beneath my calm facade.

"She abused her power, taking bribes and lining her pockets," Isaac continued, his tone full of righteous indignation. "And to top it off, her credentials are fake and her medical skills are horrendous!"

"Because she can't have children herself," Jessica chimed in, her voice venomous, "she sabotaged her patients out of jealousy! She ruined my future because she couldn't stand to see someone else happy!"

Their words echoed in the lobby and the crowd erupted into shouts and curses.

"How can she call herself a doctor? She's a fraud!"

"She's not even human—she's a monster!"

"Lock her up!"

A cup of cold coffee hit the floor near my feet, splashing brown liquid across my shoes. Someone else threw a crumpled piece of paper that hit my arm.

The hospital lobby exploded into chaos. A middle-aged woman, her face twisted with fury, stormed toward me. Before I could react, she grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me to the ground. Pain shot through my scalp as my knees hit the cold, tiled floor.

"You ruined her life and now you'll pay!" she shrieked, her voice ringing out above the crowd.

Around me, the mob surged forward, their anger boiling over into physical violence. Someone tried to pull at my coat and another even spat at me. For a moment, I thought I might be trampled.

Then came the sharp, commanding voices of security guards. "Everyone, back off! Stop this now!" They pushed through the crowd, forming a protective barrier around me. Their presence restored a semblance of order, but the hostility in the air was palpable.

Shaking slightly, I adjusted my disheveled hair and rose to my feet, my knees stinging from the fall. I refused to let them see me falter.

Moments later, the young doctor returned, clutching a file. His face was pale but determined as he handed me Jessica's laboratory report. I scanned the document quickly, confirming what I already knew: she had undergone an abortion.

I took out my phone, my fingers steady as I navigated to the recording I had saved. The room fell silent as my voice echoed through the speaker.

"Mrs. Johnson, you're the head of obstetrics at Baywood Hospital. You can figure out a way to do the IVF procedure even without a marriage certificate, right?" Jessica's pleading voice filled the room, capturing every desperate word she had spoken.

I lifted my gaze to meet Jessica's wide-eyed stare. "Your lab report shows that you deliberately chose to terminate your pregnancy," I said, my tone cutting through the tension like a blade. "You have no one to blame for your infertility but yourself."

Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"And as for your claim that I violated medical procedures," I continued, holding up another file, "here is the signed consent form you submitted along with your marriage certificate. Everything was done by the book."