You couldn’t.
So the rumors stuck. The whispers followed. The careful professional distance became permanent.
Maggie closed the file. Opened a new document. Started typing.
TRANSFER REQUEST - DR. EVELYN BROOKS
Her hands hesitated over the keyboard.
This was the right thing to do. The smart thing. The only thing that might protect Evie from the shitstorm that was coming.
If Maggie requested the transfer herself, it would look like she was maintaining appropriate boundaries. Taking responsibility. Doing exactly what a senior attending should do when professional lines had been blurred.
It would hurt Evie. God, it would hurt her. But it would also create distance. Documentary evidence that Maggie recognized the problem and was addressing it.
It might not be enough to save Maggie’s career.
But it might be enough to save Evie’s.
Maggie typed:“Effective immediately, I am requesting the transfer of Dr. Evelyn Brooks from my service to Dr. Patel’s internal medicine team. This decision is made to eliminate any appearance of preferential treatment or conflict of interest...”
She stopped. Deleted the last sentence. Started again.
“This decision is made in the best interest of Dr. Brooks’ professional development and to maintain the integrity of the residency program...”
Better. Clinical. Appropriate.
Completely devastating.
Maggie saved the document. Didn’t send it yet.
She needed to think.
By the time the sun rose, Maggie had made her decision.
She showered, dressed in her most conservative suit—the one she’d worn to the Cedar-Sinai depositions—and drove to the hospital an hour early.
The administrative wing was quiet at 7 AM. Most offices were dark, the hallways empty except for the janitorial staff finishing their overnight rounds.
Maggie walked to Dr. Chen’s office. The door was open, light already on.
Patricia Chen looked up from her computer. “Maggie. You’re here early.”
“Can we talk?”
Chen studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Close the door.”
Maggie did. Sat in the chair across from Chen’s desk—the same chair she’d sat in dozens of times over the past five years. Strategy meetings. Curriculum planning. Resident evaluations.
Normal things.
Before everything got complicated.
“I got the committee’s email,” Maggie said.
“I know. I sent it.”
That shouldn’t have surprised her. Chen was her Chief of Medicine. Of course she was involved.
