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Ashes of Longing

After a successful career, a doctor's life is ruined when his former classmate, Ellie Wilson, begs him to treat her father's cancer and fund the surgery. Despite his kindness, the patient dies, and the protagonist is framed for murder using fabricated evidence. Sentenced to death, he perishes in prison only to wake up on the very day Ellie first arrived at his clinic. Now, he must use this second chance to uncover the conspiracy that led to his execution.
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Chapter 2

After finding an excuse to shake Ellie off, I hurried straight to the hospital director’s office.

I placed the annual leave application form I had prepared in advance on his desk, then turned and left the hospital without looking back.

That group of old foxes at the hospital feared public opinion more than anything. With the story blowing up online, the director would definitely pressure me into taking the surgery.

That was why I had already decided last night to go on leave.

I switched my phone to airplane mode and headed straight for my hometown, Ashford Hollow.

On the drive, I kept replaying every detail from my past life.

When I left Sebastian’s hospital room, he had clearly been fine. So how did he die overnight? And why had I been labeled the murderer?

No matter how hard I thought about it, I couldn’t find an answer.

Meanwhile, Ellie’s story was still spreading like wildfire online. The comment section was full of moral outrage.

"A doctor who refuses to save lives should have their license revoked."

"Someone like that doesn’t deserve to wear a white coat."

I turned off the screen and tossed my phone aside.

In my last life, I had been pressured by that exact wave of public opinion into taking the surgery, and it had ended with me being sentenced to death.

This time, I would never touch her father’s case.

Two days passed.

Everything was calm. I lay on the wooden bed in my old house, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Occasionally, the sound of dogs barking drifted in from outside the window, but it was far more comforting than the wail of sirens at the hospital.

That sense of peace lasted exactly two days.

On the third evening, my phone suddenly vibrated. It was a message from my mother, Dr. Eleanor Cooke.

"Bentley, your college classmate, Ellie Wilson, came to see me today. Her father has cancer, and his condition is quite complicated. I reviewed the medical records. It’s tricky, but not without hope..."

My fingers clenched tightly around the phone. My breath caught.

"Mom, stay out of this!" I replied almost instantly. "Her life or death has nothing to do with us!"

A few seconds later, my mother called.

"Bentley! How can you say something like that?!" Her voice carried both anger and disappointment. "I’m a doctor. Saving lives is my duty. When did you become so cold?"

"Mom, you don’t understand..." My throat tightened. "This isn’t that simple!"

"What is there not to understand? You’ve just been scared by the online backlash!" Her tone turned sharp. "I’ve already scheduled the surgery. First case tomorrow morning."

"Mom!" I shot to my feet. "You can’t take this case!"

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Then her voice turned cold. "Bentley, you don’t deserve to be a doctor."

The call ended. All that remained was the cold, empty dial tone.

I drove back to Ravenshire overnight.

Outside the window, the night was as black as ink. The speedometer needle kept climbing.

My mother was the head of oncology. She was highly skilled, but stubborn to the core. She had no idea that Sebastian hadn’t come to the hospital for treatment. This was a trap.

In my last life, his death had been staged as a medical accident. Every piece of evidence had pointed straight at me.

This time, if my mother took over the surgery...

I didn’t dare think any further.

At 4 a.m., I finally arrived at the hospital.

I rushed into the elevator and headed straight for my mother’s office. The hallway was empty. Only the sound of my footsteps echoed through the silence.

"Mom!"

I pushed open the office door, but no one was inside.

A medical file lay open on the desk. It was Sebastian Wilson’s.

I hurried over and flipped to the last page. In my mother’s handwriting, it read: "Pre-operative preparations complete. Surgery scheduled for 8.00 a.m. tomorrow."

My hands trembled slightly.

Thank God. There was still time.

Just then, a rush of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.

"It’s him!" A sharp female voice cut through the silence.

I snapped my head up.

Ellie stood in the doorway. Her face was pale, her eyes red.

"Bentley!" she shouted, pointing straight at me, her voice shaking. "You killed my father!"