Chapter 1

New Year's Eve. I was thrown out of the hospital.

Snow was falling heavily outside.

My father's sponsored student posted on Instagram:

"Thank you, Dr. Bennett, for giving the only ICU bed to my mom."

I thought she was just showing off.

"Dad, I just had surgery and my wound split open. It really hurts. Can I please go back to my room?"

A voice came through the phone:

"Aria, how can you fight Linda's mom for a bed? You just have a superficial wound, but Linda's mom has a heart condition!"

"The hospital's short on beds. You're the director's daughter—if you refuse to leave, what will people think of me? We need to be fair!"

I looked at the blood-soaked gauze and lowered my hand:

"I understand. I won't make things difficult for you anymore."

I sat in the snow all night. This time, I really didn't embarrass him.

New Year's Eve. The snow was heavy.

I sat on the edge of a flower bed outside the inpatient building, looking down at my phone.

The screen was lit up, showing a post Linda had made a minute ago.

The photo showed her in the ICU holding Marcus's hand by a hospital bed, with the caption:

"Thank you, Dr. Bennett, for giving the only ICU bed to my mom."

I turned off the screen.

My abdominal wound had split open. Blood was seeping out, soaking through the gauze.

Half an hour earlier.

A nurse had been rushing me, bleeding heavily post-surgery, toward the ICU.

Marcus reached out and stopped the bed.

He didn't look at the medical chart—just pointed at the woman who had just been wheeled in behind him: Linda's mother.

"Transfer her to a regular room. There are no beds available here."

The nurse said:

"Marcus, Aria is hemorrhaging badly. All her vitals are dropping. The regular ward doesn't have monitoring equipment—she could die!"

Marcus flipped through Linda's mother's medical file without looking up.

"She just has a superficial wound. She won't die. Linda's mom has a heart condition—she can't handle any stress."

I reached out and grabbed the hem of his white coat.

"Dad, it hurts."

I pulled back the blanket, trying to show him my still-bleeding wound.

He shook off my hand.

"Aria, you're a grown woman. How can you fight an elder for a bed?"

"Linda's still a student—her mom is all she has. You're the director's daughter. If you refuse to leave, what will people think of me? We need to avoid any appearance of impropriety!"

Avoid any appearance of impropriety.

Those words again.

Linda came running out of the room, crying:

"Mr. Bennett, my mom stopped breathing!"

Marcus turned and rushed inside.

He waved at the security guard outside:

"Clear out anyone unnecessary. Don't interfere with the emergency treatment."

The security guard came over and grabbed my arms.

The nurse tried to stop him, but Marcus glared at her through the glass door.

I was dragged into the elevator and thrown out of the building.

The security guard said:

"Miss, don't make this hard on us. Marcus said you need to clear your head."

I fell into the snow.

My phone slid out of my pocket and hit the ground.

I tried to call 911, but my fingers were too stiff to unlock the screen.

Blood ran down my thighs, congealing into a dark brown stain in the snow.

So cold.

I remembered the New Year when Mom died.

It had been snowing heavily that day too.

Mom had a sudden cerebral hemorrhage. I called Dad twenty times while he was at a parent-teacher conference.

He didn't answer.

By the time he came home, Mom's body had already gone rigid.

He said:

"Aria, you need to understand—those kids need me."

Now, I needed him too.

My vision began to go dark.

In the distance, someone was setting off fireworks.

I dipped my finger in the blood pooling beneath me and wrote my name in the snow.

My heart beat one last time.

I floated upward.

Looking down at my body curled up in the shadow of the flower bed.

The hospital's main door opened.

Marcus ran out, wrapped in a coat.

He didn't look toward the flower bed.

A news van pulled up at the entrance.

A reporter held out a microphone. Linda stood beside her, carrying a thermos.

Marcus straightened his tie and walked over to meet them.

The reporter said:

"Marcus, working on New Year's Eve to help impoverished patients—what a model of medical compassion."

Marcus took the dumplings Linda handed him:

"It's just what I should do."

Linda smiled at the camera:

"Mr. Bennett is the best doctor in the world."

I was less than thirty feet away from them.

New snow was already covering my body.