And because of that, the patient's sister, the woman who controlled the most powerful conglomerate in Ashford City, didn't bring the full weight of her fury down on Chad.
She only insisted he face the standard disciplinary measures.
If Chad had just gritted his teeth and weathered the storm, he could have rebuilt his career. Kept practicing. Kept growing.
But he'd been coddled his entire life by my girlfriend, Nellie Sullivan. Sheltered. Adored. He'd never faced real consequences.
The moment the internet turned on him, wave after wave of vitriol crashing down, he jumped into the river.
When I arrived at the hospital, Chad Armstrong was slumped on the floor outside the operating room, completely unraveled.
My colleagues were scrambling inside, their scrubs streaked with blood.
"This is your fault! Your hands were shaking, and you still insisted on that one-handed stunt!"
"Just because Director Sullivan brought you in, you think you can do whatever you want?"
"Great. Now we can barely keep the patient alive. It's only a matter of time before he flatlines. When his sister finds out, every single one of us who touched this case is finished!"
From inside the OR, a monitor shrieked its alarm.