Not now.
Daisy Carter’s room was last on the list.
Maggie felt the familiar tightening in her chest.
She knew how this story was going to end.
Evie didn’t, not yet. Or rather, she knew intellectually, but she still believed there was something left to fight for. Maggie had seen that look before. In residents. In herself, once.
It never ended well.
Daisy was awake when they entered, her breathing shallow, skin waxy beneath the hospital lights. Kara stood at the window, arms folded tightly across her chest.
Evie stepped forward immediately, checking vitals, murmuring softly to Daisy as she worked. Maggie stayed back, watching.
Not supervising.
Observing.
Evie didn’t rush. She didn’t sugarcoat. She spoke to Daisy like a person, not a case. Maggie noted the way Daisy’s shoulderseased slightly at the sound of Evie’s voice, the way Kara’s posture softened just enough to suggest trust.
It was… effective.
Dangerously so.
“Her labs from this morning show some worsening renal function,” Evie said quietly, glancing up at Maggie. “She’s holding for now, but it’s tenuous.”
Maggie nodded once. “We’ll adjust fluids and reassess this afternoon.”
Evie hesitated, then added, “I think we should talk to Kara again. Today.”
Maggie met her gaze briefly—cool, assessing. “I will.”
The correction was subtle but unmistakable.
Evie absorbed it without flinching. “Okay.”
They finished rounds in near silence.
Outside the room, one of the interns let out a breath. “That case is rough.”
“Yes,” Maggie said. “It is. And get used to it.”
She dismissed the team with a clipped nod and turned away before Evie could say anything else. The hallway felt too narrow, the air too thick. Maggie walked faster.
She told herself it was because she had a meeting.
It wasn’t.
The Medical Review Committee email sat unread in her inbox like a held breath.
Maggie closed her office door and leaned back against it for a moment longer than she allowed herself to do anything else. She stared at the ceiling, jaw tight, pulse steady in the way it only got when she was bracing for impact.
She’d survived worse than this.
She’d survived the death of a loved one, professional exile, whispered rumors that had followed her for years. She knewhow to keep her head down and her work impeccable until scrutiny lost interest.
What unsettled her was not the institution.
