Who Is The Author Of Sloan-Kettering: Poems And What Inspired It?

Shantelle Scott has been in love with Evan Thompson since she was young. When Evan's father arranged for her to be his wife, she willingly agreed, despite knowing it was against Evan's will. She devoted her life to him in their two-year marriage, forgetting her aspirations. She hoped her husband would love her back. Sadly, one day, Evan coldly said, "I want a divorce! I want you out of my life, Shantelle!" Years passed, Shantelle became a famous surgeon. When her ex-husband came to see her, he asked, "Doctor Shant, I need your expertise." "What is wrong with you, Mister Thompson?" She asked. Yearning reflected in the man's eyes as he suggested, "My heart is broken, and only you can mend it." Shantelle laughed and replied, "Mister Thompson, I am a doctor. I'm not God." *** There are two versions of the book. Old readers can access the old version in your library. Please scroll down. If you don't find it, kindly contact goodnovel (contact@goodnovel.com).

The first thing I did after being reborn was add penicillin, a drug the patient was severely allergic to, into his pre-surgery medication administration record. The hospital leadership exploded. “Have you lost your mind?” “Are you trying to kill the patient?” I smiled as I accepted the suspension notice they handed me. In my previous life, I had been the lead cardiac surgeon for this operation. Back then, I refused a request from my wife, Shannon Wright, whose childhood friend, Jonah Hill, wanted to use my patient as ‘practice’ during the surgery. Right there in, Shannon threw a tantrum and demanded a divorce. In the chaos, she ripped out the patient’s blood transfusion line and even knocked over the blood bags, causing the wealthy patient to die on the table. However, they pinned the entire medical malpractice scandal on me. With the security footage wiped clean, I was sentenced to death in the end. My parents sold everything they owned and gathered eight million dollars. They gave the money to Shannon, begging her to hire a lawyer and help overturn my case. Instead, she told them that she and Jonah had been having an affair. From the very beginning, I had only been their scapegoat. The shock shattered my parents. While driving home in a daze, they lost control of the car and plunged off an overpass bridge. Both of them died on the spot. Now, when I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day of that wealthy patient’s surgery.

The day my ex finally made it big, the doctor told me I had less than three months to live. On TV, a reporter was interviewing James Larson. “Mr. Larson, what drove you to success?” James chuckled, but his eyes were misty. “The biggest push? Probably when I was diagnosed with kidney disease eight years ago, and my ex walked out on me.” “I’m grateful she didn’t marry me. That was the wake-up call I needed.” After the interview, he called. “Amelia Simmons, I made it. Do you regret it now?” I rested a hand on the spot where my kidney used to be and let out a bitter laugh. “I do. And I have cancer now. Happy?” James sounded satisfied. “Serves you right.” He never knew—I got cancer because I gave him my kidney all those years ago.

This year, as the country's leading neurosurgeon, I was invited to perform a high-profile specialist surgery at a hospital in another state. Twenty years ago, I stood in this very operating room. My mother suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, and the surgeon's hand slipped by less than a quarter of an inch. She died. Back then, it was my first love, Ethan Lancaster, who helped me through the grief. Only later did I learn the truth. The surgeon listed on the case was Ethan's father, the hospital's renowned Chief of Neurosurgery. But the one actually holding the scalpel was Ethan himself, still a surgical resident at the time. He and Vanessa Hart had planned it all along. They used my mother's operation as a practice case to advance his career. After the tragedy, Vanessa used her status as the hospital director's daughter to bury the entire incident. From that day forward, I gave up my guaranteed research placement and sat for medical school entrance exams again. I studied from undergraduate through postdoctoral training. I spent twenty full years turning myself into the kind of surgeon who would never make that mistake. All so that one day, no one else would have to suffer the same tragedy my mother did. Today, my assistant slid a patient's file across the desk. Brainstem tumor. Late stage. Extremely high risk. The face in the photo had aged considerably, but I recognized it at a glance. I handed the file back to my assistant and removed my surgical coat. “I can't perform this surgery.”

In the sterile calm of the operating room, Dr. Marcus Valencia is celebrated for his precision, his steady hands healing wounds that others deemed impossible. But beneath the surgeon’s blade lies a heart scarred by a past he’s struggled to bury. When he falls in love, a new chapter begins—until a shocking truth slices through, unearthing a dark secret that binds them both to a night of unspeakable horror. Now, Marcus faces an agonizing choice: fulfilling his duty or answering the resounding call for justice, now lying in front of him. With justice resting in his hands, immerse yourself in a novel where the call of duty, the depths of true love, and the burning desire for revenge for family clash in a poignant struggle.

The first time I met him, he was lying in the recovery room after surgery, looking weak and lifeless. But strangely, my heart skipped in a way I hadn't felt in three years. I tried to act professional, but every time I stood beside him to check his vital signs or give his medications, my heart reacted in ways I couldn't explain. I couldn't even look him in the face without feeling shy. One small moment led to another until I finally gathered the courage to ask him for his number. But as his recovery improved and his discharge day approached, I couldn't stop asking myself one question: Would our story end at the hospital, or was this just the beginning?