"You look terrible," he said as she sat down.
"Thank you for the observation."
"I mean it. Have you been eating? Sleeping?"
"Is this an intervention?"
Hartman signaled the waiter and ordered for both of them without asking. Then he leaned forward, his voice low.
"The investigation is a farce. Everyone knows it. The external reviewers are following a script that was written before they even started, and the outcome was decided before the first meeting."
"I figured."
"Shaw has been pushing for a permanent revocation of your privileges. He's using your file as evidence of a pattern of disregard for institutional authority. He's framing every deviation as insubordination rather than clinical judgment."
Isla felt a cold knot form in her stomach. "And the board is listening?"
"The board is scared. The Hendricks family is suing for twenty million dollars. The insurance carriers are threatening to raise rates. Everyone is looking for someone to blame, and you're convenient." Hartman's expression was grim. "They're going to sacrifice you to protect themselves."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I don't think you should let them."
Isla stared at him. "What exactly are you suggesting?"
"Fight back. Get a lawyer. Go to the press if you have to. Make them see that what they're doing is wrong." Hartman's voice was fierce. "You're the best trauma surgeon this hospital has. The best I've ever worked with. If they destroy you to protect themselves, they deserve to face the consequences."
"And what about my career? If I make this a public fight, I'll never work in medicine again."
"If you let them do this quietly, you'll never work in medicine again anyway." Hartman reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "The difference is whether you go down with your integrity intact."
The food arrived, but Isla barely noticed. She was thinking about everything she had built over the past fifteen years. The skills she had developed. The lives she had saved. The person she had become.
Was she willing to let all of that be destroyed without a fight?
She thought about Marianne, who had chosen safety over truth. Who had walked away rather than risk her career for something she believed in.
Isla didn't want to be that person.
"I'll think about it," she said finally.
Hartman nodded, apparently satisfied. "That's all I ask. Just don't give up without a fight. You're worth more than that. To this hospital and to everyone who's ever been saved by your hands."
They ate in silence, but Isla's mind was racing. She had spent the past week drowning in self-doubt, questioning everything she had ever believed about herself. But Hartman's words had sparked something. A reminder that she had never been someone who gave up. Never been someone who accepted defeat without a fight.
The self-doubt wasn't gone. The questions still circled in her head, vultures waiting for weakness. But underneath them, something else was stirring. A flame that had been dampened but not extinguished.
She was Isla Bennett. She had survived medical school on stubbornness and black coffee. Had clawed her way through residency by refusing to accept that anything was impossible. Had built a reputation as the surgeon other surgeons called when no one else knew what to do.
The board might be afraid of her. The administration might want to sacrifice her. But she was not going to make it easy for them.
Maybe it was time to remember who she really was.
As she walked out of the restaurant into the afternoon sunlight, Isla felt something shift in her chest. Not hope, exactly. Not yet. But something like determination. A willingness to fight, even if she didn't know what the outcome would be.
She thought about Marianne, briefly. Wondered if she was watching the investigation unfold. Wondered if she regretted her choice. Wondered if she ever would.
Then she pushed the thought away. Marianne had made her decision. Now Isla had to make hers.
