My hand landed across her cheek before she even saw it coming.
I looked down at her coldly. "Beatrice, have you lost your mind?"
The commotion had already drawn other colleagues from nearby departments. They gathered around, whispering, eyes wide.
Inhaling sharply, I raised my voice and spat coldly, "The duty roster clearly shows it was your surgery last night—not mine! Yes, I didn't notice my phone had died, but the one who signed up for the case, the one responsible for this operation, was you, Dr. Ingram!"
Beatrice's face completely went pale. "Life and death—how can you hide behind duty shifts? Your phone is always on. Why, of all days, did it just happen to be off last night? Ha... Annalise, it doesn't matter if you hate me. But you can't gamble with someone's life!"
Her words dripped with righteous indignation, enough to sway those who didn't know the full story.
A few patients watching nearby began whispering among themselves, speculating that I had deliberately shirked responsibility, leaving the mess to Beatrice just to watch her fail and be humiliated.
Before I could even respond, one of my colleagues snapped.