The Devil's Surgeon

Thirty Days

REIGN POV

The operating theatre had gone dead silent — the kind that only happens when a patient is seconds from the morgue.

"BP is crashing! Eighty over fifty! We're losing him!"

The young man on the table had been rushed into Westridge Medical Institute less than twenty minutes ago, pulled from the twisted wreckage of a car accident that should have killed him on the spot. Blood flooded his chest cavity faster than the suction could clear it. One wrong move and he was dead, and everyone in the room knew it.

"Scalpel." I kept my voice calm. Steady.

I held out my gloved hand without looking up from the open chest in front of me. The scrub nurse placed the instrument into my palm.

"Clamp. More suction. Retract."

A young resident swallowed hard. "Doctor, his heart rate—"

"I can see it." I kept my eyes fixed on the torn artery. My hands didn't tremble.

I found the vessel, threaded the needle, and began to close. One stitch. Another. The bleeding slowed. Then stopped.

For three long seconds, nobody breathed.

Then, "Pressure's rising! Heart rate's stabilizing!"

The anesthesiologist sigh in relief. "I really thought we'd lost him."

I tied the final stitch. "Good job, everyone."

Silence — then someone let out a shaky laugh. A resident shook his head. "How does she do that every time?"

"They don't call her the miracle surgeon for nothing."

I ignored the compliments, peeling off my gloves one finger at a time before dropping them into the bin. The surgery was over. There would be another one tomorrow. There always was.

The corridor's cool air hit my face the moment I stepped outside, and my shoulders finally sagged. For the first time in six hours, I let myself feel exhausted. Thirty-two hours awake. My eyes burned, my hands trembled from hunger, and a dull headache pounded behind my temples.

"Don't tell me you skipped breakfast again."

I looked over to find Nurse Daisy matching my pace, arms folded across her chest.

I sighed. "...And lunch."

She gave me a pitiful look."Reign."

"What?"

"You can't keep doing this."

I managed a tired smile. "The patient couldn't exactly wait while I grabbed a sandwich."

She rolled her eyes. "There's always an excuse with you."

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Barely." She nudged my shoulder. "One of these days you're going to pass out in the operating theatre."

I laughed softly. "When that happens, make sure somebody catches me before I hit the floor."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

She shook her head with a smile. "You really are impossible, Dr. Carter."

Before I could answer, a little girl came running down the corridor, pigtails bouncing. "Mister! Mister!"

Her mother hurried after her. "Lily! That's not a mister. I'm so sorry, Doctor."

Lily ignored her completely and wrapped her tiny arms around my waist. "My brother's awake! And he asked for pizza!"

A laugh escaped me. "That's a very good sign."

The little girl looked up at me with wide, curious eyes. "My mommy said you saved him. Are you a superhero?"

For a moment, I forgot how exhausted I was. I crouched down, my knees protesting. "No," I said softly. "I'm just someone who doesn't like losing people."

The girl's mother covered her mouth, blinking back tears. "Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much."

"Go see your brother."

Lily beamed before grabbing her mother's hand, and together they disappeared down the corridor. Moments like this made every sleepless night worth it.

Daisy smiled as she watched them go. "That's exactly why everyone loves you."

I chuckled. "I don't know about that."

"I do." She looked at me pointedly. "Now promise me you'll actually eat something before your next surgery."

"I'll try."

"No." She wagged a finger at me. "Not 'I'll try.' Promise."

I raised both hands in surrender. "Fine. I promise."

"Good." She picked up her chart with a satisfied nod. "Now go take care of yourself for once. The hospital needs its miracle surgeon in one piece."

"And here I thought you just liked bossing me around."

"I do." She grinned. "See you tomorrow, Reign."

"See you, Daisy."

She headed down the corridor, leaving me smiling to myself.

My phone buzzed. Once, twice, then again. I frowned — five missed calls, all from Aunt Rose. A knot formed in my stomach as I called back immediately.

The call was answered on the first ring. "Reign — thank God."

Her voice sounded breathless. Panicked.

I straightened. "Aunt? What's wrong?"

"A letter came today. Addressed to you." A pause. "I opened it."

"What letter?"

Another pause. "I'm sending you a picture."

My phone buzzed again. I opened the message, and my blood ran cold.

*FINAL FORECLOSURE NOTICE*

*Dear Dr. Reign Carter, this serves as your final notification. Your account remains delinquent on the outstanding lien secured against the Carter Estate. Failure to settle the full balance within thirty days will result in immediate foreclosure of the Carter Farm and Palazzo.*

"Aunt Rose—"

"I know, sweetheart."

"No." The word came out sharp. Not the farm. Not the palazzo. Those weren't just buildings — they were memories. The last place my mother had laughed. The last fields my father had walked. The only pieces of them I still had.

"I'll figure something out," I whispered.

"That's what worries me," Rose said softly. "You always say that."

I closed my eyes. Years ago, my father had borrowed five million dollars against the Carter Estate. Part of it had gone toward my mother's medical treatment. The rest had been poured into moving our family to New York, building a new life, investing in a business he believed would secure our future, and setting aside money for my education. He never lived long enough to see any of it succeed. After my parents died, what remained of that money had gone a long way in sustaining Aunt Rose and me. She'd moved us back to our hometown, stretched every dollar she could, and kept food on the table with her little pastry business while I fought my way through school on scholarships and whatever was left. Even after years of repayments, the debt had grown into a monster that refused to die. My salary could never cover what remained. Not in thirty days.

Thirty days to save my family's legacy. Thirty days before I lost everything.

My phone buzzed again. Unknown number. I almost let it ring out — until a name flashed up behind it that made my stomach drop.

*Dr. Luca Rhys.*

My mentor never called this late.

I stared at the screen, that same strange feeling creeping up my spine.

Whatever this was, it wasn't good news.

I answered.