Page 27 of Wistful Whispers
I feel the shift before she even finishes the sentence.
“The hospital’s legal team is sending their own counsel.”
I fight the urge to scream. “They think I’m a liability.”
“My guess is their insurance company knows someone has to take the fall,” she corrects. “Since Caldwell is the hospital’s star surgeon and head of the department, guess who’s the easier option?”
“Jesus.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Fucking perfect.”
“Listen to me. They’ll try to corner you. To box you in with Caldwell’s version of events and make it sound like you acted on your own.” She emphasizes each point by slapping the table.
It’s jarring. It snaps me to attention, though. I nod.
“Marcella wants the truth. She needs it for the biggest settlement.” She tones down her delivery a bit, which I appreciate. All of this is incredibly stressful.
I run a hand down my face.
The truth.
The truth is:I knew. The truth is:I tried to slow down. The truth is:it didn’t matter.
I was a resident, and Caldwell was Caldwell.
He’s throwing me under the bus to take the hit.
Sarah leans forward, steady and fierce. “You are not going to be another Matthew Lee or Adrian Park, Seamus.”
“You can’t give me a definitive guarantee.” I shake my head sadly.
She lifts a brow. “The hell I can’t.”
There’s steel in her tone and in the way she looks at me. Like she’s already gearing up for war.
“I know how this plays out. I know how hospitals protect their cash cows and let the rest burn. Not this time. Not you.” She clasps my shoulder. “Caldwell isn’t going to win.”
I swallow hard and think about the sacrifices I’ve made for so many years. About Miranda Black, still lying in the hospital bed on life support. The entire McGloughlin clan, who are all so proud to have a doctor in the family.
“You’re not alone in this,” she says firmly. “No matter what happens in the deposition room tomorrow, I will fight for you.”
For the first time since this nightmare started, I almost believe her.
Hospitals bury the innocent to protect the powerful.
Sarah knows it. So do I.
She says I won’t burn for this.
Tomorrow will prove if she’s right.
nine
Marcella
The Next Day
Iwakeupgasping.
Flushed. Breathless. Pillow shoved tight between my thighs.
