ath sentence, but it was also

r, only to be told he died on the table from a "mistake" I had made. The evidence was overwhelming, irref

en their love for me and the "terrible truth." The media devoured the story: a daughter's fatal hubris. The hospita

etched onto my soul. Every det

uld not be the

ght. He was likely at the hospital, playing the hero who stepped in to save his father-in-l

es, no whispered condemnations. I could just breathe. I made mysel

ttered by a sharp

e officers and a man in a rum

red skepticism. "I'm Detective Rodriguez. We need to ask you

rushed out, his face a perfect picture of weary concern. E

protective arm around me. "Can't you see

ng the narrative. My

driguez said, his gaze not leaving my face. "Your fat

everything I can. He's stable, for now, but it was touch and

sn't a botched surgery anymore. It was crimi

t surgeon, but she's under immense stress. She needs help, not an interrogation." She looked at me, he

ncompetence would be just as effective

. I could feel their stares, their judgment. The whispers were already starting.

ven though I had changed the initial event, the outcome felt

lawyer present," I said,

f interest in his otherwise bored expression. This

arah, don't make this harder than i

k?" I looked

ond, before his mask of con

guez. "This is the official statement from the board," he said, not looking at me. "Dr. Mille

icially a

ches, their arms crossed, their faces a mixture of morbid curiosity a

g pressure, the same wall of

w who my enemies wer