Chapter 757 A Storm Outside the OR

At the Saunders family villa, Mindy rested her chin in her palms, staring listlessly at the small cake in front of her.

“Daddy, Mommy didn’t come home all night. Do you think she’s too tired?”

She suddenly flipped upright like a little carp. “Daddy, let’s sneak to the hospital to see Mommy!”

Wyatt, packing breakfast neatly into a food box, had been planning the same. Yunice, ever the workaholic, never cared for herself when she was busy. Who knew how long she had been operating last night.

“Mindy, come here. I’ll carry you.”

The little girl spread her arms, climbing into his embrace, and together they set off for the hospital.

The moment they stepped out of the car, they saw a noisy crowd gathered at the entrance of the hospital, all craning their necks toward the upper floors.

Mindy, perched in Wyatt’s arms, pointed upward. “Daddy! There’s a lady sitting on the window ledge! Is she going to jump?”

Wyatt’s brows knit. Was this a private grudge? A case of medical harassment? Hospitals always drew scenes like this.

Tilting his head, he listened to the murmurs around them.

“They say the hospital killed someone. That woman’s the dead man’s wife. Claims her husband came in fine, and after one surgery he was gone. Now she says she wants to die with him… Who was the doctor? How could anyone botch a surgery so badly? Isn’t Saunderss Hospital supposed to be the best? I heard it was the director herself. Only in her thirties–how could she have gotten that post?”

Mindy’s eyes went wide. After a few moments, she finally understood. Her little fists clenched, and she cried out indignantly. “Daddy, they’re slandering Mommy! Mommy cares more for her patients than her own family sometimes! She’d never hurt anyone! If she wasn’t absolutely sure, she’d never operate! That woman is lying, she’s framing Mommy! I have to tell them the truth!”

Wyatt pressed her shoulder gently, voice firm. “Calm down, Mindy. You’re just a child. No matter how true your words, to them it will carry no weight. And remember what Mommy taught you: never fall into the trap of defending yourself. If we speak out now, they’ll twist it, expose our identities, and use it to smear your mother further.”

Mindy puffed out her cheeks, furious, but she knew Daddy was right. Still, she asked anxiously, “Then Daddy, what should we do?”

Above them, the widow’s voice sliced through the air, shrill and piercing. “Oh heaven, why won’t you open your eyes! How am I supposed to go on!”

She clawed at the window ledge, sobbing theatrically. “My husband, you were taken so unjustly! I’ll join you soon!”

The crowd below murmured in pity and confusion, eyes filled with unease.

She thrust out a trembling finger, pointing toward the tightly shut operating room. “It’s that doctor! That woman named Yunice! She killed my husband!”

“Nonsense!” a nurse cried out, trying to stop her.

“Lies?” The widow’s voice rose, shriller still. “Everyone, look! She’s barely thirty, already a hospital director, and she’s heartless! She doesn’t know how to treat patients, she used my husband as an experiment!”

Her sobs turned to wails. “He only came in feeling unwell, and she insisted on tests, on treatments! And now he’s gone! She’s incompetent, she practiced on my husband’s life!”

The crowd began to whisper, edging closer to the operating room, suspicion darkening their eyes.

“And more!” she shrieked, sensing their attention. “She neglects her duty! I brought meals at night and she was never there! The nurses couldn’t find her either! My husband called out in pain–where was she? Off being lazy! Avoiding responsibility! She didn’t care whether he lived or died!”

“You’re slandering her!” a young intern shouted, his face red. “Director Yunice is always responsible!”

“Responsible? If she were responsible, would my husband be dead?!” the widow screamed, cutting him off. “When he was on the brink, she sat there leafing through her damned charts, wasting precious minutes! She killed him! She murdered him!”

Her voice cracked the air, filled with venomous grief and rage, each word more cutting than the last.

“She’s a killer! She doesn’t deserve to be a doctor! I want her to pay with her life for my husband’s!”

The cries pierced the crowd like hooks, dragging suspicion, pity, and outrage to a boiling pitch.