Page 80 of Obeying

The board wishes to acknowledge your professionalism and cooperation throughout this process.

Sincerely,

Dr. David Yap, Chief Medical Officer

Westlake Medical Center

I read it three times. Then a fourth. My hands are shaking so hard the phone almost slips out of my grip.

Dismissed. All of it. Every allegation Miguel built, every lie he twisted out of the truth, every dollar he spent, and every connection he leveraged. A room full of people looked at all of it and said no.

My whole body is trembling, and I can't tell if I'm laughing or crying or both. The tea on the counter is cold. And I whisper, "I did it, Dad. I told the truth, and they believed me."

That's how Logan finds me. I hear the door open, I hear his shoes on the floor, I hear his keys on the table by the entrance. And then his footsteps stop.

"Kristen?"

I must look terrible. Sitting in the dim living room, no lights on, hands over my face, shoulders shaking. He's beside me in two seconds.

"What happened? Kristen, what did they say?"

I look up at him with tears and the biggest smile I've worn in years.

"It's over," I say. "They dismissed it. All of it."

He stares at me. For a second, he doesn't move. Like his brain needs a moment to catch up. Then the relief hits his face, and he pulls me into him and holds me tight, his arms around my back, my face buried in his neck.

I cry. I've been holding so much for so long that now it's pouring out all at once, and I can't stop it. My body doesn't know what to do with all the space that's suddenly there, where the fear and the weight used to be.

He doesn't say anything. He just holds me, his hand on the back of my head, his heartbeat steady against my cheek. And I let myself be held without flinching, without bracing, without waiting for it to cost me something.

"You did it," he says into my hair. "You did it, Kristen."

"We did it."

"No." He pulls back and looks at me. "You. You walked in there, and you told the truth, and you didn't back down. That was you. I just stood behind you."

I wipe my eyes. "You did a lot more than stand behind me."

"Really? We'll still argue about this?"

I laugh. It comes out wet and shaky and completely undignified. He wipes a tear off my cheek with his thumb, and I lean into his hand.

The board's decision doesn't stop at the complaint.

In a closed session the following week, the members review the full body of evidence. The surveillance. The coercion. Carmen's statement. The documented pattern. They recommend a formal review of all partnerships between Westlake Medical Center and Cruz Pharmaceuticals. An advisory goes out to department heads suggesting alternative suppliers. It's quiet and institutional. The kind of machinery that moves slowly but grinds everything in its path.

Miguel shows up at the hospital three days later, demanding to speak to the board. His composure is finally gone, and his voice is loud in the lobby, the polished mask cracking in front of the reception staff, the security guards, and the patients sitting in the waiting area. This is the Miguel nobody else ever got to see. The one I lived with behind closed doors. Now he's showing it to an entire hospital lobby, and there's something almost sad about watching a man destroy his own image right in front of you.

Security steps in before he makes it past the front desk. A board member comes down and tells him calmly that any further contact with the hospital or its staff will result in legal action. Miguel's face goes red. He looks around the lobby like he's waiting for someone to take his side, and nobody does. He's escorted out the same doors he once stormed through to grab my arm.

I watch from the second-floor window. Priya is beside me, her shoulder against mine, as we watch the man who nearly destroyed my career walk across the parking lot to his expensive car and drive away.

"Good riddance," she says quietly.

I don't feel triumph. I don't feel satisfaction. I just feel done. Finally, completely done.

After my rounds, I go searching for Eleanor. She's in her office, reviewing charts, and she looks up when I knock.