There it is. My mother.
"This isn't about the study," I say, my voice dropping. "This is a witch hunt."
"This is an audit," Sterling corrects. "And the findings suggest fraud. Misappropriation of hospital resources. Lying to the Chief of Surgery."
He opens a folder.
"I am recommending immediate suspension for both of you, pending a full board hearing."
The room goes silent. Suspension. It would be a permanent black mark. For me, a humiliation. For Jax, who lives paycheck to paycheck, a disaster.
"You can't do that," Jax says, his voice losing its playful edge.
"I can," Sterling says. "Unless you can produce the data right n?—"
The boardroom doors bang open.
They don't open; they are thrown wide with the force of a gale.
"Am I late?"
Dr. Alistair York strides into the room. He is wearing a cashmere trench coat over a suit that costs more than the hospital wing we are sitting in. He is holding a cane that he definitely does not need, using it to point at people like a divinesceptre.
Sterling stands up, startled. "Dr. York? Alistair? We... we weren't expecting you."
"Clearly," Alistair booms. "Since my wife has been blowing up my phone all morning complaining about how you’re mishandling 'The Situation.' I thought I’d come see for myself."
Alistair walks to the head of the table. He looks at Sterling. Sterling, instinctively, moves out of the chair. Alistair sits down, resting his cane against the mahogany table.
"Father," I say, stunned. "What are you doing here?"
Alistair ignores me. He turns his gaze to Jax.
"O'Connell," Alistair nods. “Any injuries from last night?”
“Nothing significant to report, sir,” Jax says, a smirk touching his lips.
"Good. Now, Anthony," Alistair turns to Sterling. "Catherine tells me you’re trying to suspend my son and his... associate. She says they are 'wasting resources' on a 'frivolous project.'"
Alistair leans back, interlacing his fingers. A cruel, amused smile plays on his lips.
"God, I love disappointing that woman," Alistair sighs happily. "It’s the only joy left in a marriage that has felt like a hostile corporate takeover for the last thirty years."
Sterling blinks, confused. "Excuse me?"
"Catherine wants them suspended," Alistair explains slowly, as if talking to a toddler. "Therefore, I want them promoted. Do try to keep up, Anthony."
"But... the fraud," Sterling stammers, pointing at the file. "They invented a research protocol to treat an indigent patient. There is no Robotic Valve Study."
"Of course there isn't," Alistair waves a hand dismissively. "Maxwell doesn't have the imagination for fraud. He’s too rigid. If he tried to invent a study, he’d accidentally write a real textbook."
I flush. "Father..."
"However," Alistair continues, silencing me with a look. "I have recently developed a keen interest in... what was it?" He looks at Jax.
"Robotic-assisted valve repair in complex trauma presentation," Jax supplies instantly, leaning forward.
"Precisely!" Alistair slams his hand on the table. "My idea. My intellectual property. Maxwell and Dr. O'Connell are merely executing my vision."
