When She Begged Me to Cover, I Sent Her to Morgue

After hearing my words, Aria Cole froze on the spot. She was a master manipulator; clearly, she hadn't expected someone as easygoing as me to say such things. She cried loudly, "Miss Sutton, how could you say that... My mother's really being resuscitated..." Her outburst attracted colleagues in the corridor. Head Nurse Grace was a notorious people‑pleaser who loved smoothing things over. She walked over and helped Aria up, then turned to frown at me. "Victoria Sutton, aren't you going too far?" she said. "Her mother is already in the ICU. As her senior, can't you be more understanding?" "Exactly," a young male doctor who had just started work a couple of days ago chimed in. His name was Kevin Rhodes. He resented me, convinced I was too young and had risen too fast. "As doctors, we should have the compassion of a healer," he continued. "You're so cold‑blooded. You're truly a disgrace to our profession." I looked at these self‑righteous hypocrites and gave a harsh laugh. "The compassion of a healer?" I retorted. "If you're so compassionate, our Head Nurse, then go cover her shift. With your experience, four hours of emergency duty should be well within your capabilities." Grace was speechless, her face turning beet red. She stammered and took a step back. "I... I still have a child to pick up at home, and I'm a nurse," she muttered. "I can't write prescriptions..." I ignored her and turned my glare on Kevin. "Then you do it," I said. "You're so righteous you'd risk your life for a coworker's mom. You take over. It's just four hours." Kevin squirmed under my gaze and swallowed hard. "This isn't my specialty," he said. "I'm in orthopedics. How could I take responsibility for a cardiac emergency?" "Then shut up," I said flatly. I looked down at Aria, who was still pretending to cry. "Save your tears," I told her. "This is a hospital, not a stage. Your shift, your responsibility. Not even God himself could make me cover your shift today." After saying that, I walked around them and headed straight for the doctors' lounge. Back in the lounge, I took off my white coat and let out a long, exhausted breath. Before bed, I went to get some water. Passing by the nurses' station, I happened to see Aria, who'd been forced to cover the shift. She kept insisting that her mother was being resuscitated in the ICU, yet there she sat in front of the computer. She hadn't made a single call to ask about her mother, yet she was sweating profusely and constantly checking her watch. Every few minutes, she would get up with a guilty start and stare at Bed 12 at the end of the corridor. That restless, anxious demeanor looked nothing like that of someone worried about her mother's safety. It looked more like she was afraid of a time bomb about to go off. I watched her coldly as she scurried around frantically, then turned and went back to the lounge, locking the door. I didn't sleep well. The next day, I woke up early. Just as I finished changing and was about to leave, my phone suddenly rang. The caller ID read Hunter. "Victoria! Get your ass to my office right now!" Hunter shouted through the phone. "Your patient in Bed 12, Owen, suddenly developed a severe drug allergy. He's critically ill! Aria just came to report that because the family had a bad attitude, you harbored a grudge and switched Owen's medication out of spite!" My gaze instantly turned cold. Aria, you've got a death wish.