𝓐𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓬

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The next day, when I stepped inside the hospital, everything was chaos.

News reporters crowded the entrance like vultures circling fresh roadkill.

Camera flashes burst every few seconds, bright enough to sting my eyes. Security guards struggled to keep them behind the barricades while microphones were shoved toward every doctor unfortunate enough to walk past.

I somehow managed to move past them, blocking the entrance. It left me panting.

Giving a last glance to the media, I looked ahead.

Inside wasn't any better.

Nurses rushed through the corridors, clutching patient files to their chests. Phones rang nonstop at the reception desk. Somewhere down the hall, a child cried loudly while a stressed intern nearly collided into me carrying a tray of blood samples.

The air itself felt feverish.

I frowned and grabbed the arm of a passing nurse.

"What happened?"

"Dr. Reed, you don't know?" He-Martin-questioned.

"No?" My reply came out like a confused question.

He sighed, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. "A patient died last night." He said, looking pale.

I blinked. As devastating as it was, deaths in hospitals weren't something uncommon. It was almost a daily occurring tragedy. It wasn't like this hospital hadn't seen deaths before.

What was this chaos actually about?

"Who?"

"Patient 468, John Smith." He replied.

My heart constricted.

John? That seven year old diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer?

Though I wasn't the one primarily treating him, I had had a few interactions with in the past. Especially when Dr. Miller was not present, I was in charge of his patients.

How can this...?

The boy had undergone a crucial surgery not a week ago. The danger was extreme. Survival was God's grace, but he had managed to win. He had survived. He was recovering well. I can't fathom the idea of his sudden death.

"John? How? And the media?" I stumbled over my own questions, for there were too many of them.

Before Martin could reply, my eyes fell on the television mounted near the waiting area. A bold red headline flashed across the screen. I took a step forward involuntarily to read it.

CHILD DIED AFTER ALLEGED NEGLIGENCE AT LIFELINE MEDICAL

My stomach dropped.

I glanced back at Martin, who gave me a knowing nod. "John's mother didn't take his death well. She sued the hospital for negligence that caused her child's death. She also thinks we knew he wouldn't survive, but we still made her pay the huge amount for the surgery."

All of that happened in the spam of one night? Why wasn't I informed?

I didn't know much but from what I've from Dr. Miller, she was a single mother. Her husband was a martyr. John was supposedly her only family left. That woman must truly be heartbroken.

Hours later, I found myself sitting in the conferenc room. The whole pediatric department was summoned with the exception of interns and newly appointed doctors.

The conference room felt colder than the rest of the hospital.

Or maybe it was just the tension suffocating the air.

Every chair around the long glass table was occupied. Board members sat at one end in stiff suits and unreadable expressions, while the pediatric department occupied the other side like students awaiting a verdict.

No one spoke.

The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional shuffle of papers.

Can we all not practice silence and address the issue?

We were being sued for God's sake. Our license can get cancelled.

I shifted on my seat, hoping someone would say something and break this ominous silence.

John's death was a tragedy. His lungs collapsed early this morning when the sun had barely risen and unfortunately that little boy couldn't make it out of it. His body was already exhausted due to the surgery.

"Now that everyone's here," the director, Mr. Benson, finally began, voice heavy, "let's discuss the disaster currently unfolding outside these walls."

Everyone straightened.

The projector flickered to life behind him, casting a pale blue glow across the room. A news channel appeared on the screen, reporters standing outside the hospital gates while bold headlines.

CHILD DIES AFTER FAILED SURGERY. NEGLIGENCE ALLEGATIONS AGAINST LIFELINE MEDICAL HOSPITAL.

A muscle ticked in the Benson's jaw before he muted the television.

"As of thirty minutes ago," he continued, "the mother has officially filed a case against this hospital and several members of the pediatric department."

A sharp breath escaped someone across the table.

"They're claiming delayed diagnosis, lack of post-operative care, and financial exploitation."

Financial exploitation.

That phrase alone made the room erupt into hushed whispers.

"This is absurd. We did everything we could. The child's condition was already severe when he arrived." Dr. Miller said, his voice somewhere between frustration and misery.

"Please," one of the board members snapped, massaging his temples. "Save the arguments for court."

Court. I swallowed. This was a mess. A huge f*cking mess.

"Dr. Miller and Dr. Reed," My head snapped up towards the Mr. Benson at the mention of my name. "Since you two were directly involved in John's treatment, you are especially vulnerable in this case."

Dr. Miller and I shared a look. We understood the stakes. My whole career was at stake here. One hearing, one slip up, one verdict passed and I'd lose everything I had worked so hard to achieve.

Every-f*cking-thing.

I couldn't afford that. Not when my life finally had a meaning.

He continued carefully. "Until the investigation is complete, both of you will be required to submit detailed reports regarding every stage of the patient's treatment. Admission, diagnosis, surgical recommendations, post-operative monitoring. Everything."

I swallowed. "Sir..." I began cautiously, "I was only involved in the post-operative observation-"

"Your name is on the file, Dr. Reed." That shut me up immediately.

I knew none of my defences would work anymore.

A board member leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping impatiently against the table. "The hired lawyer is arguing that the surgery should never have been performed in the first place."

Dr. Miller's jaw tightened. "Without the surgery, the child would've died anyway."

"But now he died after paying for it," another member replied bluntly.

"Who's fighting the case from our side?" I asked, voice tense. "Did we appoint a lawyer?"

Mr. Benson exchanged a brief glance with the legal advisor before answering.

"Yes." He gave a curt nod. "The hospital has already contacted a firm."

"Which one?" a senior doctor asked immediately.

The legal advisor, Mrs. Carson, hesitated for half a second. "The case will be handled by Thorne Gray Legal." She said with a heavy sigh.

A few people visibly relaxed.

Because everyone in the city knew that name. Thorne Gray Legal didn't take cases unless they intended to win them.

I sucked in a shap breath, my gaze hardened as I heard that name.

𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦. Never a good sign.