
"Maybe we should just kill him."
George Sterling froze at the doorstep to his bedroom. His hand was still on the handle. He had just come back from his night shift as a security guard. His uniform was dirty and smelled like sweat. The voice belonged to his wife, Tiffany. "Come on, Tiffany, we should take it easy," a man's voice said. George knew that voice. It was Dr. Vincent Dean, the famous surgeon at City Hospital. "We already made him lose his medical license and his little tech business. Soon he'll get frustrated and leave. Then we can be together and take back your shares." George 's heart pounded in his chest. He pressed himself against the wall, listening. Tiffany laughed. It was a cold laugh that George had never heard before. "Yes, but I'm losing patience, Vincent. He's already a thorn in my flesh. I can't wait to discard him like the trash he is." George felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. Tiffany was his wife. They had been married for three years. She had always told him she loved him. She had cried when he lost his license. She had held his hand through everything. Or so he thought. "Remember, darling," Vincent said. "Your grandfather's company shares are tied to your marriage. Once George is gone, everything becomes ours." George 's mind raced back to six months ago. He remembered waking up in a hotel room. There was a woman in his bed, one of his patients. The room smelled like alcohol and drugs. He couldn't remember how he got there. The FBI came. They tested him. Drugs were found in his system. His medical license was taken away. He had cried to Tiffany that day. He had told her he didn't understand what happened. She had hugged him and told him everything would be okay. It was all a lie. She had planned it. She and Vincent had destroyed his life on purpose. George 's hand shook as he pulled out his phone. He had to record this. He had to have proof. His fingers moved quickly across the screen. He pressed record and held the phone up toward the door. "The best part," Tiffany continued, "is that he thinks I actually love him. That stupid fool believes every word I say. He has no idea that I've been with you this whole time." "He's pathetic," Vincent said. "A failed doctor working as a security guard. How the mighty have fallen." They both laughed. George 's jaw clenched. His phone was recording everything. Every word. Every laugh. Every piece of evidence he needed to destroy them both. "I saw him yesterday," Tiffany said. "He was begging for extra shifts at that pathetic security job. Can you imagine? My husband, a security guard. It's embarrassing." "Not your husband for much longer," Vincent replied. Suddenly, George 's phone rang. The loud ringtone cut through the quiet hallway like a knife. George 's blood turned to ice. "What was that?" Tiffany said sharply. The bedroom door flew open. Tiffany stood there in a red dress, her eyes wide. Behind her, Vincent appeared, straightening his shirt. "George ?" Tiffany's face went pale. "What are you doing here?" "I live here," George said quietly. His phone was still in his hand, the screen glowing. Vincent's eyes locked onto the phone. "Is that phone recording?" "No," George said quickly. "I just got home. I wasn't recording anything." "You're lying!" Tiffany screamed. She lunged forward and grabbed for the phone. George pulled back, but Vincent was faster. The bigger man grabbed George by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall. "Give me that phone!" Vincent shouted. "I wasn't recording!" George yelled. "Let me go!" But Vincent saw the truth on the phone screen. The red recording button was still flashing. "He heard everything," Vincent said to Tiffany. His face turned dark. "He knows." Tiffany's expression changed. The fake sweetness disappeared. What remained was cold and cruel. "Then we don't have a choice." "What are you doing?" George struggled against Vincent's grip. "Let me go!" Vincent's hands moved to George 's throat. George tried to fight back, but he was tired from work. Vincent was bigger and stronger. "I'm sorry, George ," Tiffany said, but she didn't sound sorry at all. "You should have just left quietly." George couldn't breathe. Vincent was choking him. His vision started to blur. He kicked and struggled, but it was no use. "Help me," Vincent grunted. "We'll throw him out the window. Make it look like suicide." "Good idea," Tiffany said. She actually smiled. "Everyone knows he's been depressed since losing his license." George felt himself being dragged toward the window. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. His phone fell from his hand and clattered to the floor. The window opened. Cool night air rushed in. "Goodbye, George ," Tiffany whispered. They pushed him. George felt himself falling. The ground rushed up to meet him. He saw the stars above, spinning and spinning. Then everything went black. But the darkness didn't last. Suddenly, a sound pierced through the void. A phone ringing. Loud and persistent. George 's eyes snapped open. He gasped for air. His heart was racing. He was lying in a bed, covered in sweat. A phone was ringing next to him. George grabbed it with shaking hands. "Hello?" "Dr. Sterling, we have an emergency!" a woman's voice said urgently. "The patient for the heart surgery replacement is in critical condition! The new heart just arrived. We need you in the operating room right now!" George sat up straight. His mind was spinning. Dr. Sterling? Operating room? But he wasn't a doctor anymore. He had lost his license six months ago. Six months ago. George looked around. He was in his old apartment. The one he lived in before everything fell apart. The calendar on the wall showed a date from six months in the past. His hands were steady. Strong. He looked at them in shock. "Dr. Sterling?" the voice on the phone said again. "Are you there?" George 's voice came out calm, even though his mind was screaming. "I'm here. Tell the team I'm on my way." He ended the call and stared at his hands. He was alive. He was back. Six months before his death. And this time, everything was going to be different.Latest Chapter
Chapter 9
At five o'clock the next morning, long before the sun had touched the glass towers of the financial district, George slipped out of the penthouse service exit wearing a dark, raincoat and a plain baseball cap.He didn't take his car from the underground garage,Tiffany had access to the vehicle’s GPS logs through their insurance app. Instead, he walked four blocks through the gray, drizzling dawn and hailed a passing city taxi."Where to, buddy?" the driver asked, eyeing George’s soaked coat in the rearview mirror."South Harbor," George said, pulling his cap down. "402 Waterfront Way."The driver raised an eyebrow. "Waterfront Way? That’s the old industrial piers, man. Nothing down there but empty warehouses and the shipping yards.""Just drive," George said quietly.Thirty-five minutes later, the taxi dropped him off on a cracked asphalt street smelling of salt water, diesel exhaust, and rotting kelp. The towering glass buildings of City Hospital felt like a different planet. Here,
Chapter 8
The gold-plated tip of the fountain pen hovered an inch above the crisp, cream-colored paper.George’s hand was steady, but his chest felt as if it had been wrapped in bands of cold iron. He looked at the signature line,the small, neat dotted rule where he was supposed to write away his financial survival. And then he looked up at Tiffany.She was still kneeling on the Persian carpet beside his chair. Her hands were folded gently over his knee, her large, amber-brown eyes shining with a thin film of unshed tears. To anyone else, she looked like a picture of absolute, selfless devotion.George looked at her face and suddenly remembered a rainy Tuesday afternoon four years ago.He had been a third-year resident then, working ninety-hour weeks on a resident’s meager stipend, his eyes permanently bruised with exhaustion. His car had broken down on the interstate three miles from the hospital. He had walked the rest of the way in the downpour, his scrubs soaked through, his shoes squelchin
Chapter 7
By eight o'clock that evening, the rain was pouring against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse.George sat at his mahogany desk in the private study, his reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as he reviewed the legal charter for PulseTech.His software,an AI-driven diagnostic algorithm capable of predicting arterial blockages before they appeared on standard EKGs,was only three weeks away from its final FDA approval. Once approved, the company’s valuation would skyrocket into the hundreds of millions.In his first life, Tiffany and Vincent had murdered him right before that approval came through, seizing the patents overnight.The study door opened softly. Tiffany walked in.She had changed into a simple, comfortable cashmere sweater and silk lounge pants. She carried a silver tray holding a steaming mug of chamomile tea. Her face was washed clean of makeup, making her look younger, fragile, and deeply sorrowful."You missed dinner," she said softly, setting th
Chapter 6
At seven o’clock the next morning, the executive boardroom of City Hospital was already packed.George walked into the room wearing his tailored charcoal suit, his medical ID badge clipped to his lapel. The long mahogany table was surrounded by twelve members of the hospital board, all whispering anxiously. At the far end of the table sat Dr. Webber, his forehead shining with sweat.Right beside Webber sat a man George hadn't expected to see so soon: Richard Vance, Tiffany’s uncle and the chief financial officer of the regional medical supplier, Vance Biotech."Ah, Dr. Sterling," Dr. Webber said, standing up quickly and gesturing to the empty chair at the head of the table. "Please, sit. We have... a delicate administrative crisis to address."George sat down, resting his folded hands on the table. "Good morning, Dr. Webber. Mr. Vance. I assume this meeting concerns Dr. Dean?"Richard Vance leaned forward, his sharp, hawk-like eyes fixing on George. Richard was a man who ruled through
Chapter 5
The oak door of their penthouse apartment clicked shut, locking out the noise of the city.George stood in the dimly lit foyer, slowly unbuttoning his suit jacket. The silence inside the home was suffocating. For the past two years, this luxury high-rise had been his sanctuary,a place he had paid for with eighty-hour workweeks at the hospital and endless sleepless nights building his medical software company.In his previous life, he had walked into this apartment every night believing he was the luckiest man on earth. He had believed the framed wedding photos on the console table meant something.He looked at the small silver frame near his keys. In the photo, Tiffany was clinging to his arm, laughing in a white veil. It was a flawless illusion.The door opened again behind him. Tiffany stepped inside.She looked exhausted, her cream-colored silk blouse wrinkled from the chaos at the hotel. Her hands were trembling as she dropped her designer handbag onto the marble bench. She didn’
Chapter 4
Ten minutes passed.George sat comfortably on the leather sofa, his leg crossed over his knee. He was talking calmly about the upcoming hospital charity mixer downstairs.On the opposite sofa, Vincent stopped talking mid-sentence.He blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if trying to clear a sudden fog. His hand lifted to rub his temples. "It's... it's really warm in here," Vincent mumbled, his speech slightly slurred.Tiffany frowned, looking at her gold watch. It had been twelve minutes since the toast. She turned her eyes toward George, expecting to see him slumping over the armrest.Instead, George was sitting up straight, completely alert, watching them both with dark, unblinking eyes."Vincent?" Tiffany asked, her voice tight with confusion. "Are you okay?""I don't... my legs feel ," Vincent stammered. He tried to stand up from the sofa, but his knees buckled instantly. He crashed back onto the cushions, his head rolling to the side. The empty crystal glass slipped from his fing
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