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I was an emergency physician. After finishing a night shift, I had just walked out of the hospital entrance when a colleague from the hospital called me. "Dr. Doherty, hurry back. A critically injured patient was just brought in. The chief wants you to return immediately and help with the resuscitation." I turned around without thinking. But then a stream of floating comments suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. [Do not enter the operating room! Do not take part in this resuscitation!] [The patient is already dead. If you go in, you will be taking the fall for the hospital director's daughter!] [This patient's family is powerful. You will not only be sentenced to death, your parents will also be forced to jump to their deaths as well!] My steps stopped cold. A few seconds later, my heart tightened. I decided to believe the comments. I would gamble on it. My eyes swept quickly across the ground. I immediately locked onto an uncovered deep shaft on the road. I gritted my teeth, shut my eyes, and threw myself straight into the opening. Chapter 1 I had been an emergency physician for almost ten years. I had always valued my patients' lives more than my own. So when the department called, I barely hesitated. I immediately turned around and headed back. But just as I was about to reach the emergency building entrance, floating comments suddenly appeared out of nowhere before my eyes. I froze. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes desperately, wondering if too many night shifts had finally broken my brain. But the comments were still rolling steadily above my head. [It's over. The moment you step into the operating room, they will announce the patient's death.] [They are waiting for you to go in and become the scapegoat.] [The entire operating room will cover for the hospital director's daughter, Olivia Hart, and accuse you of causing the patient's death through surgical error.] [Be careful!] My mouth fell open. Olivia Hart had been my roommate for four years in medical school and my closest friend. Why would she choose me as the scapegoat? Countless questions spun through my mind, and for a moment, I had no idea what to do. Just then, I heard passersby nearby discussing the accident at the intersection. "Did you see it? A Bentley drove straight into the river." "The owner has already been sent into resuscitation. Must be someone important." At that exact moment, my phone buzzed twice more. It was Olivia. "Evelyn, where are you? Hurry up! "The pre-op prep is done. We are only waiting for you to scrub in! "Move faster. I am waiting for you outside the operating room!" Looking at those three urgent messages, my blood nearly froze. Could there really be such a coincidence? A patient with a powerful background. Olivia urging me to hurry onto the table. Once I calmed down and thought it through, this was supposed to be an ordinary emergency case. There were so many on-duty doctors in the emergency department. Why did they absolutely need me, a doctor who had just finished a night shift, to rush back for surgery? The more I thought about it, the more believable the floating comments became. Once I changed into scrubs, from that moment on, I would become a lamb waiting for slaughter. The patient's death would all be pinned on me. With every colleague testifying against me, there would be no way to clear my name. I did not dare keep thinking about it. The more I thought, the more a chill crawled up my spine. I looked at Olivia's messages and did not reply immediately. Almost ten minutes had passed since I received the notice. A decision flashed through my mind. Since the comments said I would be framed, then I would gamble on them. Chapter 2 As long as I never appeared in the operating room, no one could accuse me. My eyes swept quickly across the ground. I immediately locked onto the road in front of the emergency building. There was an uncovered deep shaft that had not yet been sealed. I pretended to rush toward the emergency department. When I reached the opening, I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes. Then I threw myself hard into the shaft. A sudden feeling of weightlessness swallowed my whole body. I instinctively tensed. The next second, I slammed heavily onto the hard concrete at the bottom of the shaft. There was a dull thud. The impact seemed to shake pain through all my organs. Thankfully, the bottom of the shaft was dry and had no standing water. But the bare, hard ground offered no cushioning at all. A violent wave of pain spread from my head and lower leg through my entire body. I trembled in agony, cold sweat soaking through my clothes almost instantly. I knew very clearly that I had most likely broken a bone. This old drainage shaft on the outskirts of the hospital had been abandoned for years. A few days ago, someone had stolen the manhole cover. It had not yet been replaced. Only an inconspicuous warning barrier circled the shaft. Because I was rushing to do emergency surgery, I had not seen it clearly and had stepped into it by accident. There could not be a more perfect accident. My phone, which had fallen beside me, kept ringing again and again. In the dark, silent bottom of the shaft, the ringtone sounded especially sharp. But I did not move. I let the calls ring and stop, stop and ring again. I kept my eyes tightly closed. A person who had fainted could not possibly answer the phone. All I needed to do was quietly wait until someone discovered me. The longer that took, the better. Fifteen minutes later, the workers who had come to install the new manhole cover arrived at the scene. They immediately saw my bag scattered near the shaft opening. One worker's heart tightened. He bent down and looked inside. The beam of his flashlight shone into the shaft and instantly revealed me lying motionless below. "Someone fell into the shaft! Save her!" The worker immediately grabbed his walkie-talkie and called for help. I maintained the posture of someone unconscious, eyes closed, as the commotion above grew louder and louder. I heard countless footsteps and shouts coming from the opening. More and more people gathered. I could even hear the clicking of phone cameras. Before long, police officers and firefighters arrived one after another. A rescue ladder was quickly set up. The firefighters carefully secured my severely injured, unconscious body with ropes and slowly pulled me out of the shaft. The moment I emerged, everyone could clearly see it. My face and head were covered in blood. I let out a faint, pained groan. No one dared delay. They immediately carried me into the emergency building beside us. While I was waiting to be rescued, the floating comments filled me in on what should have happened in the original storyline. Olivia and I had been medical students in the same year. We were as close as sisters throughout our four years of college. Later, we both entered one of the top three hospitals in the country. The difference was that I got in through my own ability, while Olivia relied on her father, the hospital director. She had lived in my shadow for a long time, and over time, something in her heart twisted. She wanted to beat me in everything. This accident had been her responsibility. But Olivia's medical skills were not solid, and she had been desperate to prove herself. She directly caused the patient to suffer brain death ahead of time. The first thing she thought of was to make me take the blame. That way, she could avoid prison and get rid of me at the same time. After reading the comments one by one, my entire body went cold. For four years in college, I had sincerely treated her as my best friend. I had never harmed her in the slightest. I never imagined her heart could be so dark and vicious. Fortunately, I won the gamble. I wanted to see how she would pin this on me now. Chapter 3 The male doctor responsible for treating my wounds was Daniel Reed from my department. When he saw my face, his hands paused. His pupils shrank sharply. "Dr. Doherty? You... why are you here? Shouldn't you be in the operating room resuscitating the patient right now?" As soon as he said that, the police officer beside me spoke first. "Oh? She is a doctor at your hospital? She accidentally fell into a deep shaft. We just rescued her." Daniel froze. His gaze fell on my face. His mouth opened, then closed, as if he wanted to speak several times but stopped himself. It seemed he knew something. But in front of the police officers, he did not dare say another word. He could only silently pick up his instruments and carefully treat my wounds. The debridement and suturing process was clear and torturous. The cut on my forehead alone needed three stitches. My right leg was placed in a cast because of the fracture. Then I was pushed into the exam room for a head CT. Fortunately, the results showed only a mild concussion and nothing serious. Once I appeared more conscious, two police officers walked into the observation room with a notebook. They needed to take my statement as part of the routine accident inquiry. "Dr. Doherty, please recount the full process of how you fell into the shaft." Leaning against the headboard, I acted as if I were trying hard to remember. "After finishing my night shift, I had just walked out the front gate when a colleague from the department called and told me to return to the operating room immediately to help with a resuscitation. "I was anxious and a little dazed, so I did not notice the open shaft on the road. I stepped into it and fell straight down." The officers listened and nodded repeatedly. Soon after, someone from the hospital's surveillance room hurried over. They carried the complete road surveillance footage and handed it to the officers for verification. The surveillance footage was clear and complete. It matched my statement exactly. After watching it, the officers confirmed that this was purely an accident. Just then, I suddenly cried out. I pretended to be anxious. "Oh no! Oh no! They are still waiting for me to return for surgery! How did I lose so much time here?" I tried my best to show the normal reaction an emergency physician should have. Ignoring my injuries and the officers' attempts to stop me, I struggled to get up. "Push me over there! I have to get back to the operating room!" The officers quickly tried to calm me down. "Dr. Doherty, please stay calm. Your current physical condition is not suitable for surgery." But I acted frantic, forcing myself upright and insisting on sitting in a wheelchair. "No! I am worried. I have to go over and check!" No one could stop me. But when I was hurriedly wheeled to the operating room entrance, the atmosphere there was already deathly still. A crowd of crying, devastated family members had filled the hallway. The operating room light had gone out. The resuscitation was over. Chapter 4 Standing before the family members was Olivia Hart in surgical scrubs. She lowered her eyes and let out a deliberately heavy sigh. "I am sorry. We did everything we could. The resuscitation failed, and the patient has been pronounced dead." The family members instantly collapsed. Their heart-wrenching sobs exploded through the hallway. Then Olivia changed the subject. Her tone carried a subtle accusation as she intentionally pointed the blame toward me. "Actually, there was a strong chance he could have been saved. Unfortunately, the lead surgeon, Dr. Evelyn Doherty, made repeated mistakes, and that was why..." Her words were like sparks falling into a pile of explosives, instantly igniting everyone's rage. "Where is Evelyn Doherty? Why doesn't she dare come out?" "A doctor who treats human life like nothing! We need an explanation!" The family members were immediately enraged, screaming that I had to pay with my life. I sat in the wheelchair, quietly watching her twist the truth. In the chaos, one family member locked his gaze onto the badge on my chest and read each word aloud. "Emergency Department physician, Evelyn Doherty!" The moment he said that, everyone turned to look at me. The patient's wife had been sitting on the floor sobbing. When she heard this, she completely lost control. She scrambled up from the ground, eyes bloodshot, and rushed toward me like a madwoman. "It's you! You are the one whose negligence killed my husband!" She grabbed my collar, her fingernails digging deeply into my skin. The violent tugging sent waves of pain through my right leg. The surrounding family members surged forward, completely out of control. Shoving, cursing, and accusations came one after another. "Killer doctor!" "Does your conscience not hurt after killing someone?" "You have to pay with your life!" With my right leg broken, I had no ability to fight back. I could only grip the wheelchair tightly, endure the pain and humiliation, and try to explain. But again and again, my words were drowned out by the furious shouts. "It was not me! I had nothing to do with this surgery. I never participated in the resuscitation!" But in front of the enraged family members, my defense sounded pale and powerless. Standing behind the crowd, Olivia coldly watched as they surrounded and bullied me. A vicious smile hid at the corner of her mouth. "Dr. Doherty, are you still trying to argue even now?" She raised her voice, pretending to be heartbroken. "You caused a medical accident, yet instead of taking responsibility, you deliberately faked a fracture. You are clearly trying to escape accountability!" Those words cemented my "crime." The scene spiraled completely out of control. In the chaos, a young man roared, "Faking a fracture, are you? Let me see you fake it now!" Before his words finished, he lifted his foot and kicked hard into the side of my wheelchair. The unstable wheelchair flipped over instantly. I lost my balance and crashed onto the cold floor. Then the family member raised his foot and stomped with all his strength on my freshly cast right leg. "Ah!" A bone-piercing pain tore through my entire body. I could no longer hold back and screamed sharply. I curled up on the ground, trembling from the pain. Hearing the commotion, the police officers and Daniel hurried over. The officers quickly rushed into the scene and shielded me behind them. "Stop! This is a hospital!" The patient's wife grabbed the police officer's sleeve. "Officer! This is the doctor who killed my husband through malpractice! You have to arrest her and put her in prison!" Accusations rose again from every direction. Everyone believed I was the culprit behind this medical accident. Only Olivia looked confused when she saw the officers. Clearly, she had no idea what had happened outside. The leading officer coldly swept his gaze over the shouting family members. Then he asked clearly, word by word, "So what you are saying is that Dr. Evelyn Doherty made a surgical error in the operating room just now and caused the patient's death?" The family members answered without hesitation. "That's right! It was her!" The officer gave a cold laugh. "Then that is truly absurd." He took out his phone and held it high, facing everyone present. "Then take a good look at this." The moment everyone saw what was on the phone, Olivia's pupils shrank sharply. All color drained from her face. The family members' expressions changed at once. The entire hallway fell silent.

"You've got such a great cun!t." After my natural delivery, I was diagnosed with pelvic relaxation that left me with almost no muscle tone down there. My husband suggested I see his father, a gynecology specialist. But he never imagined that the so-called "specialized treatment" from his father would involve using his abnormally large size to completely fill me... *** Ever since my husband Gordon refused to satisfy me, I had fantasized about Mark, my father-in-law, more than once. Even though Mark was nearly fifty, he was strikingly handsome. He always wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses that made him look refined and scholarly. He kept himself in excellent shape, too. His body was firm and muscular, radiating a kind of mature masculine charm. Because of my pelvic relaxation, Gordon even suggested I see his father. Mark was a gynecology specialist at a top-tier local hospital. He was incredibly skilled. People even called him a miracle worker in gynecology. If he were really the one examining me for that condition, I would probably lose control and humiliate myself beyond belief. If that had happened, I would be too ashamed to even show my face in this house. While I was lost in my tangled thoughts, the sounds of intimacy drifted faintly through my in-laws’ room next door. The noises were unmistakably heated. It was obvious that Mark had Janet pinned beneath him. He was thrusting hard. As Janet’s breathless gasps and soft moans continued through the wall, I actually found myself feeling envious and jealous. If only I were the one underneath Mark. The thought sent what was left of my smoldering desire roaring back to life and burning hotter than ever. I could not help squeezing my thighs together and rubbing them against each other for friction. Just then, raised voices suddenly came from the room next door. Janet was loudly protesting. Mark’s voice followed. He was coaxing her. I was stunned. Apparently, Mark was so vigorous that Janet could not handle it anymore. She refused to continue, no matter how much he lowered his voice and begged her. “You’re enormous, and you go on for over an hour every time. If you really want it that badly, go find a prostitute.” God. Over an hour. That must feel incredible. Some people were dying of thirst while others drowned. Mark’s size and stamina were astonishing, yet Janet treated it like a burden. Meanwhile, I was empty and aching with need, yet Gordon would rather take care of himself than touch me even once. The world really was not fair. With a sigh, I climbed out of bed and padded miserably to the guest bathroom in the living room. Chapter 2 Standing in front of the mirror, I looked at myself. My skin was fair and smooth. I had a body with curves that turned heads. Anyone who saw me would call me a beauty. Yet, despite my perfect appearance, my husband paid no attention. I was left to rely on myself. I stood in front of the mirror, lifted one leg, and bit my lip. I started pleasuring myself. When Janet had suggested that Mark find a prostitute, I wished I could just rush in and tell him not to bother looking and that he should just come to me. I was cleaner than a prostitute. More importantly, I needed it much more than they did. I thought, “God, what am I thinking? He’s my father-in-law.” The more I tried to stop myself, the more those thoughts kept creeping in. Without realizing it, I even started to whisper, “Mark... ah... Mark, harder! Do it harder!” The forbidden thrill and the madness of it all made me feel more aroused than ever. I got carried away as my hand moved faster and harder. I did not even realize how loud my moans had become. The bathroom door gently creaked open. I was so horrified I felt the color drain from my face. I immediately stopped and opened my eyes. I tried to clamp my mouth shut, but a desperate moan still slipped out before I could stop it. Our eyes locked. I wished I could just disappear right there on the spot. The person standing in the doorway was not anyone else; it was Mark. When I saw the way Mark’s gaze darkened, I realized my nightgown was around my ankles. I had moaned so loudly just now. He must have heard everything from outside the door. Seeing me in such an embarrassing state, even an idiot could guess what I had been doing. I really should just die. He was my husband’s father. He was my father-in-law. I had just been touching myself, moaning his name, begging him to go harder on me. He must have heard it all and figured out that I had just been getting myself off while fantasizing about him. We lived in the same house. We would see each other every day. How was I supposed to face him after that? He would think I was nothing but a cheap, desperate woman lusting after her own father-in-law. Panicking, I quickly pulled my nightgown up to cover myself and hide the mess I had made. My face turned bright red with shame. I lowered my head and said in a low voice, “Mark, I’m so sorry. You won’t think less of me, will you?” “No,” Mark replied softly. His voice was full of concern. “But are you having problems with Gordon? Why are you…” Thankfully, he did not mention me moaning his name. Whether he really had not heard or was pretending not to, I could not tell. “I...” I was stammering with my face still flushed. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on my forehead. Just thinking of the way Gordon had looked at me, the torment of those nights, made me want to just spill everything and ask Mark for help. However, no matter how badly I wanted to tell him, the words would not come. “Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.” He walked closer and gently patted my shoulder. He looked at me with such warmth and told me not to be afraid. His steady, mature presence and reassuring calm suddenly gave me the courage I had been lacking. Finally, I lowered my head in embarrassment. My face was burning as I spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, stammering as I confessed my shameful problem to him. He seemed a little surprised. He said the birthing muscles had a strong ability to contract. Usually, even after a tear and stitches, it could recover. He said what I was describing was extremely rare. “Here’s what we’ll do. Let me take a look and see exactly what’s going on.” I blinked, thinking I had misunderstood him. I had mustered the courage to share my condition with him under his encouragement, but to show him down there was a line I could not cross. Noticing my hesitation, he reassured me with patience. “It’s completely normal to feel embarrassed. I know I’m a man, and I’m Gordon’s father, but I’m a doctor, a gynecologist. I’ve seen all sorts of women’s bodies, so there’s really nothing to worry about.” When I still hesitated, he added, “Look, since you’re feeling shy about it, I’ll help you.” Before I could protest, he lifted me and sat me on the sink. Before I even had time to react, he had already pulled my skirt up with a swift motion. I realized that my panties were long gone. At that moment, I was completely exposed, without any cover. Chapter 3 Mark had been so direct about it. I felt my face flush an even deeper shade of crimson. I could hardly believe I had ended up here, completely exposed in front of him like this. I watched as his gaze fixed intently on that place. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. It was loud enough that I could hear it. Mortified, I instinctively brought my hands down to cover myself. He gently moved them aside. “Be good. Let me take a proper look.” As he said that, he touched it directly. He was examining me like a meticulous inspector. He carefully parted it and felt along the contours. His fingers were tracing the skin. He was not even wearing gloves. His rough hand, calloused and worn, grazed against me. My body trembled uncontrollably. Then, I felt a sudden wave of heat rushing through me. This was bad, I thought. At any rate, I would start reacting. I wanted to stop him, but my body felt weak and limp. My eyes could not help but keep drifting back toward Mark. Mark was wearing nothing but a pair of loose boxer shorts. His upper body was completely bare. His eight-pack abs were perfectly defined. His waist and abdomen were lean and powerful. From his navel down to his lower abdomen, there was even a small trail of hair. The overwhelming scent of raw masculinity hit me all at once. I instantly felt a surge of heat inside my body, like a sudden fire had been lit within me. After what felt like a full examination, looking, feeling, and probing, Mark finally reached his conclusion. “You’re dealing with postpartum muscle atony. Some people commonly call it pelvic relaxation. Normally, a woman can accommodate two or three fingers. In your case, I can fit my whole hand. Gordon is probably no more than four inches, so I imagine things between you haven’t been very satisfying.” I nodded. I felt a flicker of hurt surfacing. “Yes, he won’t even touch me anymore. Earlier, I was even…” “Don’t worry too much. There’s a way to treat it. The problem is finding the right person to help you.” “There is. Gordon could help me,” I said innocently. “But didn’t you just tell me things between you weren’t working? The treatment I’m suggesting requires a man who’s physically compatible with you. You’d need to be with him continuously for about a week. During that time, it has to happen once a day. That’s the only way to prevent the muscles from continuing to deteriorate.” “What?” What kind of bizarre treatment was that? Was that not basically cheating? Besides, with how loose I was, where would I even find a man who was a match for me? There simply was no one like that. Seeing that I was still hesitant, Mark actually said, “There probably aren’t many men like that. Tell you what, let me try it with you. To be honest, I have acromelagy in that area. We might actually be a perfect match.” Huh? Had his growth been abnormal? But given our relationship, was this even okay? I hesitated. “B-But…” Mark cut me off firmly. “No more ‘buts.’ If your condition isn’t treated soon, it will only get worse. Let's get started! ” With that, he reached forward and pulled my legs apart.