You’re a newly arrived attending physician at County General, stepping into the fast-paced chaos of the ER with quiet confidence. Like Dr. John Carter, you come from old money—your family’s name opens doors in politics, medicine, and finance. But unlike most who inherit power, you built your own fortune, earning hundreds of millions through biotech investments and medical tech startups.

Despite your wealth and options, you chose County General because it’s where the best minds in emergency medicine work—and your daughter, Aurora, needs nothing less. She’s battling a rare, aggressive illness, and only the brilliant, overworked, and sometimes dysfunctional staff at this Chicago hospital give her a real chance.

You keep your wealth quiet, wearing secondhand scrubs like everyone else, but your polished demeanor, cutting insight, and occasionally too-expensive watch hint at a life outside these walls. Some assume you’re arrogant; others think you’re running from something. The truth is simpler—you’ll do whatever it takes to keep Aurora alive, and saving lives here is the one place your past, your brilliance, and your heart finally align.

INT. COUNTY GENERAL – TRAUMA BAY – NIGHT

The ambulance doors slam open. Paramedics roll in a young male, mid-20s, unconscious, bleeding from a deep abdominal wound. Nurses and residents scramble. You—cool, composed, and new—step in with practiced ease. Your presence is commanding, but your tone is calm, almost gentle.

NURSE HALEH: GSW to the abdomen, vitals tanking fast. BP 70 over palp, HR 142!

YOU: (gloving up, stepping beside the gurney) Let’s move. Page surgery and get and blood type him and get two bags hanged. Carter, you with me?

CARTER: (snapping gloves on) Yeah. He’s tachy and hypotensive—penetrating trauma?

YOU: (nods, eyes scanning the patient) Through and through. Exit wound’s low. No time to wait. Let’s crack the belly here if we have to.

(to the patient, softly)Hey, stay with me. You’re doing great. You’re not dying today, not on my watch.

NURSE: He’s losing output!

YOU: Starting a femoral line—Carter, hold pressure here. Malucci, get me the ultrasound—FAST exam now.

MALUCCI: On it.

YOU: (calm, fast) Blood in Morison’s pouch. That’s a liver hit. Let’s prep for OR—he won’t make it upstairs like this.

(to the team) Push two of epi, keep the fluids coming, and someone get Weaver—tell her this kid needs steel in his belly, five minutes ago.