The Heiress They Left To Die Chapter 01
In my last life, I was found by the Hawthornes — one of Boston’s oldest money families.
My own brother, Ethan, framed me to protect their adopted daughter, Josie. He claimed I was the one who’d triggered her episode. My biological parents believed every word of it and threw me out.
Not long after, I collapsed and died just outside an ER entrance.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the Hawthornes had come to take me home.
Ethan stood in front of our parents, jabbing a finger at me.
“Mom, Dad, wait. She isn’t my sister. She’s a con artist.”
They looked at me — one long, disappointed look — then turned and walked away.
I stayed where I was. I didn’t pull out the Hawthorne crest necklace, the one that could have proven who I was. I just walked, quietly, back to the group home in South Boston.
Twenty years later, I was Dr. Ava Blackwood, one of the top cardiologists in the country.
The man across from me slid a medical file toward me, his voice unsteady.
“Doctor, please. Save my sister. I can’t lose her.”
My hand closed over the name on the file. I looked up at the drawn face in front of me and said,
“I’m not taking this patient.”
…
Ethan clearly hadn’t expected that.
“Excuse me?”
I closed the file and pushed it back across the desk.
“I said I’m not taking this patient.”
The office went still.
Ethan stared at me, his brow drawing tighter by the second. In the wheelchair beside him,Josie looked a little pale — but her spirits seemed just fine.
Twenty years.
They’d done well for themselves.
Ethan was the heir to Hawthorne Group. Josie had spent two decades as the daughter of the house — shielded by every one of them, wrapped in the Hawthorne name, the Hawthorne estate, the trust fund, and all the love that should have been mine.
And they would probably never realize that the country’s top female cardiologist sitting across from them was the real Hawthorne daughter — the one they’d left outside the door.
Ethan reined in his temper and tried again.
“I know you’re one of the most in-demand cardiologists in the country. I know how hard it is to get on your schedule.”
“But money isn’t an issue. Name your price. Just fix my sister.”
He pinched a black AmEx Centurion between two fingers and set it on my desk.
I glanced down at it, then back up at him.
“The hospital has policies. Doctors have ethics. She isn’t an emergency. Her vitals are stable, and she has a private cardiologist already following her case. She isn’t within my scope of practice here.”
Ethan blinked, thrown off again.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I looked into you.” His voice cooled several degrees. “You’ve pulled patients back from end-stage heart failure. My sister has a murmur and occasional chest pain. And you’re telling me you can’t take her?”
Josie coughed softly, twice, and tugged at Ethan’s sleeve.
“Ethan… it’s okay. I don’t want you begging anyone for me.”
The exact same expression. The exact same voice. Just like the last life, when she’d accused me of pushing her down the stairs.
Ethan’s face immediately softened. He caught her hand in his. When he looked back at me, the anger in his eyes was no longer disguised.
“Dr. Blackwood. It’s about the number, isn’t it? Fine. Let me try again.”
“Take my sister’s case today, and tomorrow Hawthorne Group will donate five million dollars in equipment to your cardiology department.”
“Is that enough for you?”
Two residents standing nearby went completely quiet.
I didn’t even lift my eyes.
“Mr. Hawthorne. I accept patients based on medical need. Not on price tags.”
“I’m not taking your sister’s case. Take your card and get her out of my office.”
Ethan let out a cold, contemptuous laugh.
“The truth is, you just don’t think you can treat her. So much for the top expert in the country. Marketing, apparently.”
“Ethan, stop, my chest hurts…”
Josie clutched at her chest, her breathing quickening.
“Josie!”
Ethan panicked, waving in his private security to wheel her out. At the door, he turned and shot me one last glare.
Once they were gone, I slipped my hand into my pocket and touched the cold weight of the Hawthorne crest necklace.
Early the next morning, I had just finished rounds when the CEO of St. Catherine’s Medical Center walked into my office, storm clouds on his face.
“Dr. Blackwood. You’re terminated.”
I set down the chart in my hand and looked up.
“On what grounds?”
“On what grounds?” He gave a short, cold laugh. “How did you speak to Mr. Hawthorne yesterday? You’re a doctor. You took an oath to save lives — not to watch critical patients get turned away at your door.”
My eyes drifted down to his wrist. A brand-new Patek Philippe.
He hadn’t been wearing it yesterday.
I understood.
“How much did they pay you?” My voice stayed level.
His face changed color — then twisted into indignation.
“What the hell are you insinuating? This is the board’s decision. Pack your things and get out. Now.”
I didn’t bother answering.
I took off my white coat, folded it, and laid it over the back of my chair. Then I picked up my car keys from the desk, turned, and walked out.
Ethan was waiting in the main lobby of St. Catherine’s, leaning against one of the pillars, sunglasses in his hand.
Waiting for me.