Chapter 2

Monday morning, I hurried back to the hospital. Before the review meeting, Julian cornered me at the door of the records room.

He held a medication order record, and his face was even colder than it had been on the wedding day.

"A patient Nina was responsible for yesterday developed cerebral edema. The order was verified under your employee ID."

I took the record. In the electronic signature field, my name was right there, clear as day.

"I wasn't on the ward yesterday."

"Your signature is in the system."

"Signatures can be traced in the backend."

Julian pressed his lips together.

"What are you implying?"

Flipping to the last page, I pointed out the verification time.

"At 2:17 yesterday afternoon, I was at the off-site records office doing a file handover. There's a keycard entry log, and the person I handed the files to signed for them."

"But medical affairs only looks at outcomes."

Julian lowered his voice.

"Nina's a resident. If she gets a warning, her whole life is ruined."

I stared at him.

"You want me to take the blame?"

"It's just a supervision lapse. You've been off the front line for so long that an internal warning won't affect anything."

I gave a short laugh.

Six years ago, Julian and I had joined Neurosurgery together.

He operated fast and made decisions without hesitating, and the hospital soon put its key resources behind him.

Complex cases were my strength, but to take care of my family, I gradually stepped back from the front line and gave him my surgical opportunities and promotion slots.

Julian had once said that once his position was secure, he would save the best operating table for me.

Later, what he saved for me was a pile of files to sort in an office, while he took Nina into the operating room.

"Sienna."

He slid a time-off request across to me.

"Help Nina out this once, and next week I'll go back home with you. Hasn't your dad always wanted that meet-the-family visit? I'll apologize to him myself."

My hand stopped on the page.

My father was already gone.

In the early hours of last Sunday, he had stopped breathing, and I had handled the cremation paperwork on my own.

That night, Julian had been at a pet store helping Nina pick out a cat. Annoyed that my calls were distracting them from choosing a color, he had declined them three times.

I hadn't told him since.

If he wouldn't even answer the phone, he had no right to know whether my father had waited for him at the end.

I set copies of the access log and the handover form in front of him.

"I won't sign."

Julian's face darkened.

"You really have to blow this up?"

"Someone changed a medication order, and a patient almost died on the operating table. That isn't big enough already?"

"Nina didn't mean to."

"A patient nearly lost his life, and 'she didn't mean to' is supposed to cover it?"

He stared at me for a few seconds, then let out a cold laugh.

"What's gotten into you lately? You humiliated us at the wedding, you go after Nina at every turn at work, and your dad's sick but you haven't gone back to look after him. You don't even care about your own family anymore?"

I looked up.

"You're right."

He probably hadn't expected that answer, because he fell silent.

I handed the materials to a staff member at medical affairs, stated that I did not accept a signature made in my name, and requested the complete backend operation logs.

Julian reached out to stop me.

"Sienna, you couldn't even be bothered when my father-in-law was sick, and now you want to talk about principles?"

The hand gripping my wrist was his.

In the past, whenever he brought up my father, I would soften. I would tell myself he was just busy and hadn't had time to go back yet.

But my father's death certificate was in my bag, its corners crumpled from my grip.

Little by little, I pulled my hand free.

"Dr. Walker, stop using a dead man to talk me around."

He froze where he stood.

I turned and left the records room. Behind me, paper rustled as it was crushed in a fist.

That evening, medical affairs informed me that the backend records showed the order had been issued from Nina's account, and the verifier had then been overwritten using administrator privileges.

Only Julian and the department chief had administrator privileges.

My chest felt heavy as I stared at that line of the record.

Julian's way of covering up Nina's mistake was to push the blame onto me with his own hands.