But every time I brought it up, Irene would snap at me, “I already have to do dozens of surgeries a day — I’m exhausted. How could I have time to waste going on trips with you all?”
She always said she was too busy to take the children to Disneyland.
But just because Henry said he wanted to go, she skipped work and spent an entire day at Disneyland with him.
My children came into this world with such difficulty. They never got to visit Disneyland. So at the very least, they deserved one birthday party they would’ve loved.
Eyes red with grief, I sat before their urns and sang Happy Birthday over and over again.
Then the phone rang.
It was a call from the management company. The voice on the other end was urgent:
“Something’s happened. You need to get online—now. Dr. Wells has teamed up with the hospital’s doctors. They’re planning a public strike to protest against you.”
I opened my phone. At the top was a video posted from Irene’s personal account.
She wore a black dress, with Henry standing beside her.
Her expression was solemn as she spoke, “Even though Leo is my husband, I can’t just stand by and watch him continue down this path, harming innocent people.”
“Ever since the surgery failed and we lost our children, he’s been obsessively accusing me of murdering them. He even dragged in the anesthesiologist—my student Henry—slandering him with fabricated rumors.”
“When other doctors tried to speak up for us, he retaliated by punishing them—forcing them to relocate to hospitals in Africa. If they refused, he demanded an outrageous ‘repayment’ for their training costs.”
"Because this matter concerns the future of all us doctors, I am once again joining forces with the doctors who have been victimized in this incident to announce a strike. All surgeries will be suspended! Until Leo comes forward to apologize and compensate everyone for the emotional damage we've suffered. Especially to my student Henry — he must personally kneel and apologize!"
Henry, eyes red and choking back tears, said, "Mr. Carter, I hope you’ll stop slandering me. Please don’t send me to Africa. I’m the only son my parents have."
The comment section was full of patients' families crying and begging me to apologize.
“My father’s condition can’t wait any longer. If the surgery is delayed again, he’ll die.”
“Please, Mr. Carter, just apologize. I’ll kneel if I have to—my daughter’s illness can only be treated by Dr. Wells.”
I gripped my phone tightly and my once-calm heart was finally torn apart.
Irene called, her tone full of threat. “Leo, you don’t want your reputation ruined and the hospital destroyed, do you?”
I roared with heartbreak and fury. “Bitch! Irene, you fucking bitch! You think I didn’t give them a choice? The contract clearly states—if the hospital requires support, they must fulfill a three-year service obligation at a branch hospital! Otherwise, they pay the penalty! They agreed to this willingly in the first place!
“So why—just because they don’t want to honor the contract—they get to strike with you? You already killed my children, isn’t that enough? Now you want to cause even more deaths? How are you even qualified to be a doctor? How are you qualified to be human?”
It was the first time I had ever screamed at her like this. Irene was stunned for a few seconds.
But then she snapped impatiently, “You’re insane! I already told you, the kids died because of bad luck! No one killed them! You’re just having another paranoid episode!”
"If you don’t want to watch those patients die, then get down on your knees, apologize and pay compensation! As long as you admit it was just your paranoia, that you misunderstood me and Henry—that everything about us was a lie you made up—and withdraw the announcement about the Africa deployment, we’ll start doing surgeries again.”
“And one more thing—you need to say you’re mentally ill, that you’re going to a psychiatric facility for treatment and transfer the hospital’s directorship to me…”
I growled viciously, “Keep dreaming! Irene, go to hell and enjoy your sick fantasy there!”
