Chapter 1

When the armed intruder broke in, I was alone in my office.

A madman with a knife charged at me, but I deleted the SOS message I was about to send to my boyfriend.

In my past life, I had begged Ethan Carter for help. He had rushed over and saved me, but his arm was severely injured in the process. Because of that, he demanded that I perform a high-risk surgery on his "sister," Chloe Sterling.

The surgery was a technical success, but Chloe was devastated by the post-op side effects and jumped off the hospital building.

Ethan claimed he didn’t blame me. As a doctor, he knew I had done my best. In fact, he treated me even better after that.

But on the day of Chloe’s funeral, one week after her death, he lured me to her grave and used a scalpel to slice the tendons in both of my wrists.

He pinned me to the dirt, grabbing my hair and slamming my face against her tombstone over and over again like a maniac. His voice was freezing cold:

"It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t botched the surgery, Chloe wouldn't have killed herself! Since you're such a useless doctor, you don't need these hands anymore!"

"Today, you will beg her for forgiveness on your knees until your head bleeds!"

Under his brutal grip, I quickly lost consciousness and died in a pool of my own blood.

But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the hospital attack.

"Where are the doctors?! Get out here!"

"Quacks! All of you! You killed my father! I want blood!"

A man was screaming hysterically in the hallway, brandishing a pocket knife.

I had been so engrossed in organizing my patient files that I hadn't noticed the commotion outside. By the time I looked up, my eyes locked right onto his.

My heart skipped a beat. I instantly bolted toward the door to lock it.

But I was too late. A hand shoved its way through the gap, and a glinting blade lunged right before my eyes.

I threw my entire weight against the door. My phone buzzed. On my screen, a text to Ethan was ready to be sent.

"Ethan, there's a guy with a knife in my office! Call security!"

Remembering how he used his "rescue" to blackmail me in my past life, I gritted my teeth. I deleted the message, character by character.

The people outside had already scattered. I was on my own.

Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead as I tightly gripped my phone and dialed 911.

The dispatcher urged me to stay calm and assured me that officers and hospital security were on their way.

But the man outside heard the voice from my phone. Infuriated, he slammed against the wooden door with savage force.

The door burst open. In that split second, I saw a flash of silver, and a splash of crimson splattered before my eyes.

A broad shoulder shielded me, and in the distance, the heavy footsteps of security guards echoed down the hall.

"Summer, are you okay?"

Ethan looked at me with sheer panic. He grabbed my hands, inspecting them frantically, before letting out a massive sigh of relief.

"Thank God your hands are fine."

I snapped out of it and stared at him.

In my past life, when the attacker broke in, the trauma of my previous death combined with the immense pressure made me faint instantly.

Seeing me stare, Ethan pulled me into a tight embrace, his hot breath brushing against my ear.

"Summer, when I heard someone was running around the clinic with a knife, I almost went crazy. I ran all the way down from the upper floor. Why didn't you text me? I could have saved you sooner."

His chest reeked of gardenias—Chloe's favorite perfume. I wrinkled my nose and pushed him away.

"Are my hands really that important? Important enough for you to risk your life?"

He paused, his grip tightening on my shoulders. He stared into my eyes with intense gravity.

"Of course they are! You’re the star neurosurgeon here. Your hands are everything! They’re more important than my own life! Summer, you must protect your hands at all costs!"

The memory of him slicing my tendons flashed through my mind, and I swallowed the bitterness in my throat.

In my mind, I added: *It’s not me you care about. It’s these hands. The hands that can cure Chloe.*

I pushed him aside and stood up.

But Ethan grabbed my wrist, frowning. "Summer, where are you going? You need to rest."

I lowered my gaze, fighting to keep my emotions under wraps.

"I’m going to check on the person who actually saved me."

"He got hurt protecting me. I need to thank him and see if there’s anything I can do."

A flash of annoyance and frustration crossed Ethan's face, but since my reason was perfectly valid, he had no choice but to let go.

As I rounded the corner of the hallway, I glanced back and saw him angrily punching the desk. I pressed my lips together.

*Ethan, how are you going to trick me into taking Chloe as my patient this time?*

I stood outside the recovery room and knocked.

"Come in," a cold, smooth voice called out.

I walked inside. When I saw the man lying on the bed, I froze in shock.

"Julian? What are you doing here?"