Page 225 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“Great work on that article.” I glanced up to find Stella standing in the doorway of my office. A proud and even slightly evil smile plastered on her face. “I didn’t think you had it in you, but obviously, you did.”

“You liked my column?” I questioned with a furrowed brow. This was the absolute last reaction I expected to get from her. If I was being honest, I wasn’t sure if I’d still have a job at Gossip after she read it. She’d basically given me an ultimatum and made it more than clear that if I hadn’t come up with something good, I’d be packing my shit and finding a new job.

And well, this week’s column shouldn’t have evoked such an enthusiastic response from her.

She nodded. “It was genius. And devious. And I have no idea how you pulled it off, but I definitely loved it. If you keep going above and beyond to bring material like that to me, you’ll be promoted and writing only exclusives in no time.

“I guess I should’ve known there was more to that whole relationship thing with Scott, huh?” she asked with a smile that made a shiver roll up my spine. “You’re not the type of woman to settle down with a man, but it appears that you are the type of woman who will do whatever it takes for her career. My favorite kind of woman, by the way,” she added with a wink.

The type of woman who will do whatever it takes for her career?

I blinked three times.

What is she talking about?

I didn’t even consider this job my career. It was just a fucking job that paid the bills and achieved that without giving me any sense of satisfaction or purpose. I sure as hell wouldn’t do whatever it took for Gossip.

Something feels real fucking off right now…

The tiny hairs on my arms stood on end. I opened my mouth to ask her what in the fuck was happening, but she chimed in before I could get the words past my suddenly dry and scratchy throat.

“Great work, Harlow. And, for legality purposes, shoot me an email with your various sources for that article. We’re already getting phone calls from the media,” she said.

And before I could add anything to the conversation, she strode away on her stilettos, her shoes click-clacking down the hallway with every power step while I sat in my desk chair completely confused.

There was no way in hell she was talking about the column I’d written for this week.

Had she run a different column of mine? Maybe one she’d saved up from a previous week or something?

I had no idea, but it only took ten seconds for me to snap out of my trance, and pull up Gossip’s website to find which columns had run. Dead center, on the very first page sat an unfamiliar article titled: Dr. Erotic or Dr. Hypnotic?

But oddly enough, my name sat in the byline. By: Harlow Paige

Have they retitled my piece? was my first thought, but then I realized my piece about assisting Scott in the ER for a day taking care of pediatric patients sure as fuck shouldn’t have been titled that.

My column had focused around the fact that, although most of the world knew him as Dr. Erotic, his patients knew him as Dr. Shepard—a talented physician who truly cared about the health and well-being of the community. Hell, I’d even gone to great lengths to get Josie and a few of the other pediatric patients we’d seen the day I’d assisted him in the ER to answer questions about Dr. Shepard—who just happened to be unanimously voted as their favorite emergency room doctor in the city, mostly because of his funny jokes and goofy smiles.

Obviously, I’d received nothing less than adorable responses. But none of my words or the patients’ answers would’ve worked with this garbage title.

Quickly, I clicked on the link and started to scan the words, and by the time I got three paragraphs in, I wanted to vomit.

The closer you get, the more he reveals, and if your answer isn’t yes, that won’t stop him. Look out, ladies. If you don’t give Dr. Erotic what he wants when he asks for it, he might just take it.

What in the ever-loving fuck is this?

I didn’t write this!

And horribly enough, those words weren’t even the worst of it. The article continued for another ten paragraphs and was riddled with accusations including insurance fraud and sexual misconduct.

Basically, it was one giant clusterfuck of horrible and the kind of article that would literally ruin someone’s life and career. And to the public, I had been the one to write it.

Oh. My. God.

Had Scott read this?

Well, he definitely isn’t answering my text messages…

My stomach fell to the floor, and my chest grew tight with anxiety. I had to do something. I didn’t know what, but I knew I couldn’t just sit here and let an article like this exist.