Someone I barely knew had decided to make our private lives his business. And now, Mireya would be the one to face the harshest consequences.
Because of me.
Because I let this happen.
Because I wanted something I knew the world wouldn’t allow me to keep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MIREYA
The Human Resourcesoffice had an artificial scent of vanilla air freshener that failed to mask the tension in the room. I sat in a stiff chair facing two women I had never met before. One was an HR representative with graying hair and glasses whose face remained unreadable. The other was Dr. Norms, the Chief of Staff. I recognized her from hospital brochures, but we had never spoken in person until now.
A thick manila folder with my name printed on the tab sat on the desk between us.
"Thank you for coming in today, Miss Rosen," the HR woman began. Her voice was smooth and practiced. She sounded as if she were discussing a simple change in benefits rather than the potential end of my career. "I'm Leah Mills. Beside me is Dr. Norms. We need to talk about a formal report that has been submitted regarding your conduct."
The words felt distant, like they were being spoken through a thick wall of glass.
"A formal report," I managed to repeat.
"The claim involves an inappropriate relationship with an attending physician." Leah opened the folder and laid several pages out on the desk. "Specifically, Dr. Riven Cross."
My stomach gave a sickening lurch.
"We’re launching an official ethics review," she continued firmly. "The board needs to see if any professional boundaries were crossed. We must determine if patient care suffered or if any hospital policies were broken."
Every sentence landed sharp and cold. They were dissecting my private life like it was just another surgery.
"I understand," I replied. I was surprised by how steady my voice sounded. Inside, my ribs felt like they were caving in, but I refused to let them see my hands shake.
"While this review is active, we advise you to keep your interactions with Dr. Cross strictly professional." Leah leaned forward, her eyes locking onto mine. "Do you fully understand what that instruction means?"
"Yes," I said.
"That means no personal conversations and no contact outside of work duties. If you’re scheduled for his surgeries, you must maintain a clear professional distance at all times."
"I understand," I said again.
"Good." She offered a small smile that didn’t change the coldness in her expression. "Now, we have several questions we need you to answer."
The interrogation felt relentless. They wanted to know exactly when the relationship began and if I felt any pressure to participate. They asked if he showed me favoritism and if our feelings had ever impacted the way we treated patients. They pushed me to explain why we had not reported our situation to the administration immediately.
I answered every single question with careful thought. I kept my tone level even though my fingers were digging into my palms beneath the table.
They scribbled notes and asked follow-up questions for nearly an hour. They were treating my private emotions likepieces of evidence in a criminal trial. A hot sense of shame began to burn in my chest. I had spent years working to be seen as a competent professional, and now these strangers were debating whether I had any integrity left.
"Is there anything else you want to tell us?" Leah asked as she prepared to close the file.
"No, there isn't," I said.
"Then we're finished for today. We will contact you as the investigation moves forward." She stood up and signaled the end of the meeting. "Thank you for your cooperation."
I got to my feet and walked toward the door. I managed to make it into the hallway before the adrenaline finally wore off.
Suddenly, my hands began to tremble violently. I pressed them against my stomach and tried to force myself to breathe. The hallway lights seemed far too bright, and the sounds of the hospital felt overwhelming. Nurses walked past me laughing about their weekend plans while a resident joked with a colleague.
The world was continuing as normal for everyone except for me.
