Page 33 of Obeying

"I'm back." I pull up a chair next to his bed. "Mr. Hale, I wanted to apologize for what happened the other day. You could have been seriously hurt, and that never should have⁠—"

"Don't you dare apologize to me." He says it so sharply that I stop mid-sentence. "That lunatic comes barging in, grabs you like he owns you, nearly puts me on the floor, and you're apologizing? To me?"

"Mr. Hale⁠—"

"I should be the one apologizing. I should've tripped him with the walker. Would've done it too if my hip wasn't fresh." He crosses his arms. "I'm an old man. I've got nothing to lose. I'll sue him. I'll have my nephew call his lawyer. He's not a good lawyer, but he's an aggressive one, and that's half the battle."

I freeze for a second, then laugh for the first time since Miguel came back into my life. He smiles slightly, and the knots inside me loosen.

This grumpy old man who complains about pudding brands and eavesdrops on other patients just chose my side without a single question. He didn't ask what I did to provoke it or wonder what the 'real story' is. He's just angry on my behalf and has a nephew's mediocre lawyer on standby.

"Thank you, Mr. Hale. Really. But no lawsuits. Just focus on getting better."

"Fine. But if I see that man again, I'm swinging the walker. New hip or not." He pauses and looks at me, and his voice goes softer than I've ever heard from him. "You alright though? Truly?"

I nod. "I'm working on it."

"Good. Because you don't deserve any of that. You hear me? None of it." He points a finger at me. "And don't let anyone tell you different. Not him, not anyone."

I hear him. I check his vitals, adjust his meds, and squeeze his hand before I leave. He squeezes back. Tight.

I'm stepping out of his room a fraction lighter than I walked in when I see Eleanor in the hallway. She's walking in my direction and stops when she reaches me.

"Dr. Portland." She looks at me, and there's no pity or curiosity in it. Just…genuine concern. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. Better than yesterday."

She nods. "Good. I'm glad." She pauses, and a crease forms between her brows. "Dr. Harmon needs to speak with you. Her office."

My stomach drops. "About what?"

She looks at me, and I can see her choosing her words, which is unusual for Eleanor. She always knows exactly what to say. She touches my arm briefly. "I think it's better if she tells you herself." She holds my gaze. "And Kristen, if you need anything after, my door is open."

I nod. The hallway to Dr. Harmon's office feels endless. I pass the nurses' station, pass the residents' lounge, pass the board with the surgical schedule that still has my name on it. I wonder how long it'll stay there.

A meeting with the Program Director doesn't happen for good news. Nobody pulls you into an office and closes the door to tell you you're doing a great job. Maybe someone reported what happened with Miguel. Maybe it's about Walter being compromised when the walker slipped. That would make sense. A patient was put at risk on my watch, even if it wasn't my fault.

Or maybe this is it. Maybe this is what Miguel meant at the bus stop. Maybe hell is starting sooner than I expected.

I get to her office, and the door is open. I knock anyway.

Dr. Harmon has been here for fifteen years. She's fair, direct, respected by every resident in the program, and right now she's looking at me with the careful expression of someone delivering bad news.

"Please, sit down, Dr. Portland."

I sit. My hands are in my lap, my fingers gripping each other so hard I'm stopping circulation.

"I'll be straightforward with you because I think you deserve that," she says. "A formal complaint has been filed regarding your position in this program."

She opens a folder on her desk and starts reading. Her voice is even and professional, like she's presenting a case, and I sit there listening to my life being taken apart one sentence at a time.

"The complaint alleges that you obtained your residency position through a personal relationship with the CEO of Cruz Pharmaceuticals and that this relationship was used to manipulate your admission into a surgical program." She turns a page. "It also alleges that your personal life has created unsafe conditions within the hospital, specifically an incident that directly endangered a patient." She flips to another page. "And finally, that you are currently engaged in an inappropriate relationship with your supervising attending, Dr. Maxwell, in order to secure professional advancement."

She looks up from the folder, and I'm frozen.

Every single allegation has just enough truth threaded through it to stick. Miguel didn't lie. He did something worse: told the truth sideways. He took the facts of my life and arranged them into a story that makes me look exactly like what he wants people to see. A manipulative woman who uses men to get ahead.

He did make calls, and a patient was endangered. As for the relationship with my attending, of course Logan and I are not involved, but Logan stepped between us, drove me home, held me in a supply closet while I cried. To anyone watching from the outside, it looks exactly like what Miguel has painted.