Jenny is seated to his left, her spine straight, notepad open, glasses perched on the tip of her nose. She’s smiling, but only with her mouth, not her eyes.
To his right sits a man in a navy blazer with square shoulders, silver hair, and the kind of neutral expression that’s been practiced in front of a mirror. I recognize him immediately. Paul Tallow. One of the Moreno Clinic board members. I’ve seen him at fundraising events, always hovering near the highest donors, always with a handshake ready.
A low twist of warning suddenly coils in my stomach.
“Dr. Park,” Moreno says, rising to gesture to the chair across from them. “Thanks for coming. This is Paul Tallow, one of our board members. I thought it best he join us.”
My palms go damp as I sit. “Of course. I… assumed this was just my check-in.”
“We understand you reached out to set this meeting,” Paul says smoothly, folding his hands. “We’re grateful for that. There are a few things we’d like to clarify on our end as well.”
My jaw locks, and my spine stays straight—not visibly, I hope. “I’d scheduled this meeting to disclose something,” I say, voice even. “So I’m happy to clarify whatever I can.”
Jenny clicks her pen annoyingly loudly. “How fortuitous.”
I don’t take the bait.
Paul glances at a folder in front of him. “There’s been an observation regarding a… personal interaction that may present a potential reputational risk to the clinic.”
Moreno shifts slightly but says nothing.
“We understand you were recently assisted on-site by a former patient, Mr. Reid Hutchison,” Paul continues smoothly. “Who arrived in some distress after you reportedly experienced a dizzy spell.”
I keep my face still.
“He was concerned,” I agree. “He’d been called by someone on-site and arrived to check on me.”
Jenny blinks. “Unusual, don’t you think? For a former patient to display that level of urgency?”
My breath shortens, shallow and sharp beneath my ribs, but I force it deeper.
“I am in a relationship with Rei—Mr. Hutchison,” I say carefully. “We’re expecting a child, and we’ve recently moved in together. I wanted to be transparent about the timeline and the nature of the relationship.”
A flicker of surprise crosses Paul’s face, followed by a beat of silence before Moreno exhales through his nose.
“And when did this relationship begin?”
“After Mr. Hutchison’s care was transitioned entirely to physiotherapy,” I say. “I saw him for a follow-up wound check and signed off on his discharge. Once that care ended, there was a period of no contact, and our relationship began weeks later.”
Moreno’s brows lift slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.
Paul tilts his head. “You’re confident there was no overlap? No emotional entanglement prior?”
I hesitate for only a breath. “We weren’t close during treatment. There was no personal involvement until after I was no longer overseeing his care in any capacity.”
“Which physio handled his care?” Moreno asks.
“Heidi Grant. She was made fully aware of the timeline once the relationship began.”
Jenny taps her pen once against the page. “And Ms. Grant can verify that timeline?”
“She can.”
There’s another silence, and Paul nods slowly.
“Congratulations, but I’m sure you can understand our concern here, Dr. Park. Relationships between physicians and patients, even if technically outside the window of treatment, can present a reputational risk—especially in high-profile cases.”
Moreno’s hands rest lightly on his desk. “We’ve always held ourselves to the highest ethical standards, and while I have no reason to believe you acted inappropriately during Mr. Hutchison’s care, we’ll need to formally assess that timeline.”
