"I have told you numerous times to get rid of that disgusting ring!"
The shout echoed across the operating room.
In the ER of Gold Medical, alarms shrieked. Burt Loy stood frozen, blood speckling his face mask.
But his trembling eyes remained pinned on the fountain of red pulsing from the patient's neck where his scalpel had slipped.
"Elizabeth, I—my hand jerked, I didn't mean to nick the artery!" Burt stammered, his eyes wide with horror.
Two male nurses grabbed him by the shoulders, pinning him back as Elizabeth stepped in, her eyes cold as ice.
"Get him out," she commanded, not even looking at him as she clamped the bleeder. "He's contaminated the field."
Outside, Burt swallowed, his eyes falling numbly on his hand.
There was a tear in his surgical glove, right on his index finger where he always wore his family's heirloom ring.
Taking off the gloves, he tossed them into the wastebin and headed for the restroom to wash his hand.
He scrubbed his arms aggressively, lost in thought, until his skin turned red.
The ring was the last thing his mother left him. The only proof his family had ever existed.
Absentmindedly, he pressed the sharp edge of the ring against his arm while scrubbing and grazed his skin.
Wincing in pain, he quickly removed the ring to rinse the blood off it.
But as he looked away for a split second, the old, almost ancient ring which always maintained a dull look despite resembling an emerald, slowly brightened.
The blood didn't just wash off, it vanished into the emerald. A scorching heat, like a branding iron, seared his finger, shooting a shockwave up his arm.
He groaned, clenching his jaw together to stifle the sudden pain.
Concluding it was from the cut, he slid the ring back on and left to get something to soothe his scratch.
As he walked around, Chris Gold, his father-in-law, was informed of what happened in the ER and hurried over when he saw him.
Burt's vision flashed white for a second as a slap landed across his face.
But a slap wasn't enough.
The next second, Chris grabbed Burt by the collar and yelled, "You were just the son of the cleaner before my daughter married you and brought you into this hospital as a doctor, but you repay us by inviting a lawsuit?"
Burt looked away, letting himself be dragged for a while.
"I checked them! The gloves were intact, I swear…" Burt started weakly, but Chris hit him again.
"Even a dog learns several tricks after being taught them for a while, but despite your years in medical school and even working here as a doctor, you've proved to be utterly worthless."
"You better hope nothing happens to the mayor's son because when it does, I will willingly hand you over to his family!"
Burt said nothing and walked past him, heading straight to the consulting room.
The entire hospital had heard of what happened and pointed at him as he walked past.
He wasn't as good as his wife and because this was his fourth year working here without ever heading a surgery, she finally decided to let him begin today.
But all he did was mess it up for her.
Sighing, he took his seat in the consulting room and pulled up the patient's chart.
However, his passcode was deemed a lower clearance to view the patient's file. So he gave up and returned outside the ER, pacing around worriedly.
Three hours later, the door opened.
When the nurses saw him, many of them sucked in their teeth, silently rolling their eyes.
"Dr. Gold is so talented. Why is a smart woman like her still tied down to a man like that?"
"No offense to her, but she couldn't find anyone who can change stitches without messing it up?"
"I bet even the first-years are better than him at surgery."
Burt had learnt to ignore them over the years and simply walked after Elizabeth, saying, "You have scary right to hate me, but if you give me another chance, I promise not to mess up again."
Elizabeth Gold stopped, tossing her bloodied gloves into the bin as she looked him over.
Five years ago, he was the son of her family's cleaner until she pulled him out of the gutter solely because she needed a husband to secure her position as Director.
He was supposed to be a quiet, obedient placeholder for yet, but knowing the Mayor's next line of action would be suing the person responsible for the damage to his son's facial nerves, he was too much of a liability to keep on.
Looking away from him, she walked over to wash her hands.
Eager to hear her response, he followed suit, turning on the tap for her.
She finished washing, stretched a hand toward him to be handed a towel, then said coldly without even looking at him, "Let's get a divorce."