Page 68 of Billionaire’s Ruin

“Dr. Bennet?”

“Yes?”

“Sorry to bother you,” she whispered, stepping closer. “I think we have a small problem.”

My stomach tightened. “What kind of problem?”

“Dr. Chan refused to sign off the form.”

“What form?”

“The blood test.”

“Why?”

She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m not sure.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

Before she could say another word, I was already halfway down the hall. My heels clicked against the tiles, echoing through the corridor as adrenaline kicked in. I didn’t wait for the elevator—I sprinted down the stairs, every step a mix of anger and urgency.

Dr. Chan was at his desk in the emergency wing, head bent over his computer, typing away like nothing was wrong.

I came in too fast—too furious—and lost my footing, slamming a hand on his desk to steady myself. A stack of files slipped to the floor in a messy sprawl. Heads turned. I didn’t care.

“Why aren’t you signing the form?” I demanded, breathless.

He blinked up at me, startled. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It was just a simple blood test. What was the problem? Can’t write your own name?”

The words slipped out before my brain had a chance to filter them. The moment they left my mouth, I realized how sharp they sounded—but honestly? I didn’t care.

Dr. Chan slowly looked up from his computer, his jaw tightening. His tone was calm, but that faint smirk playing at the edge of his mouth said everything.

“I’m still his doctor, Dr. Bennet. I didn’t think it was time to do another blood test.”

That patronizing tone again. The one that always crawled under my skin. The one he used whenever he wanted to remind me that, in his mind, I was too young, too emotional, and—God forbid—too female to tell him what to do.

“Then when?” I asked flatly.

“Later.”

“Later when?”

“Two hours later.” His drawl made my teeth clench, as if I were some intern asking for permission instead of the owner of the damn hospital.

“You’ll order the blood test in two hours but not now. Why?”

“No reason.” His faint smile irritated me more than the words. ”That’s my choice as his doctor.”

The smug grin—oh, I wanted to wipe it off his face. “I want it done now.”

“No, I can’t do that.”

The words hit casual, dismissive, each one dripping with condescension. He wasn’t refusing out of medical judgment—only because I’d told him to do it.

My chest burned with restrained fury. “Listen!” My voice rose. “You either sign the form now, or you can pack your bag and leave.”