When Ethan was young, his father had racked up gambling debts, abandoned his wife and kids, and disappeared, leaving Mrs. Walker to raise Ethan and his baby sister alone, enduring endless hardships to make him who he was today.
Even yesterday, when Mrs. Walker felt unwell, she didn’t want to come to the hospital—she didn’t want to worry her son.
I had been the one who forced her to come to St. Mary’s Medical Center and called Ethan myself.
He had impatiently told me he was off duty and to find another doctor.
After I begged him again and again, Ethan reluctantly came.
When he arrived, Lily was with him.
By then, Mrs. Walker had already completed her CT scan.
Ethan didn’t even step into the room. He just glanced at the scan and snapped, “You called me for this? Such a small issue?”
He told me to leave everything to him and walked away with Lily.
I still trusted his medical skills.
After all, Mrs. Walker’s stroke was not severe, and we had brought her in quickly.
She should have been fine with proper thrombolysis.
But instead, I got the news that she had died from a sudden brain bleed.
And Ethan still thought the patient was my mother.