Chapter 5 - Retribution and Reckoning
Less than twelve hours after the broadcast, St. Jude Memorial Hospital was surrounded not by patients or ambulances, but by federal marshals in heavy tactical gear and yellow crime scene tape.
Flashbulbs popped against the gray hospital facade as news vans jammed the ambulance bay.
Inside the executive boardroom on the top floor, Director Julian Miller sat slumped in his leather chair, staring blankly at the federal agents who stood on either side of his desk with handcuffs gleaming in the fluorescent light.
Dr. Arthur Hemlock stood by the window, his designer lab coat discarded, his face mottled with a mixture of furious disbelief and sheer terror.
“You can't do this!” Hemlock screamed, pointing a shaking finger at the lead federal investigator. “I am the chief of surgery! I bring twenty million dollars in research grants to this institution every single year! This is a malicious fabrication by a disgruntled, terminated nurse!”
The federal investigator didn't even blink. He pulled a thick sheaf of printed financial records from his folder and tossed them onto the mahogany table.
“Dr. Hemlock, you are being placed under arrest for wire fraud, racketeering, conspiracy to commit medical malpractice, and the wrongful distribution of unapproved pharmaceutical trials,” the investigator recited monotonously, snapping the steel cuffs around Hemlock’s wrists. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
As they dragged Hemlock toward the double doors, he caught sight of someone standing quietly in the hallway outside.
Me.
I stood by the glass partition, wearing a simple navy blazer, my badge clipped securely to my pocket.
Hemlock stopped struggling against the marshals, his eyes locking onto mine with venomous hatred.
“You ruined everything, you ungrateful little bitch!” Hemlock thrashed forward, but the marshals shoved him down the hallway toward the elevators. “You’ll never work in medicine again! Do you hear me? Never!”
His voice echoed off the tile walls until the elevator doors slid shut, cutting him off completely.
Director Miller was led out moments later, his head bowed, his expensive tie trailing limply against his chest.
I let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension that had gripped my shoulders for weeks finally beginning to dissolve.
A warm hand settled gently on the small of my back.
I turned my head. Roman stood beside me, wearing a sharp charcoal suit that looked entirely professional, though the faint stiffness in his shoulder reminded me of the bullets he had taken just days ago.
“Well,” Roman said softly, a genuine, warm smile curving his lips. “It appears your credentials are fully restored, Nurse Jenkins.”
I looked up at him, feeling a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion. “The hospital board just appointed an interim administrator. They offered me the head nursing supervisor position for the entire trauma department.”
Roman raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. “And what did you say?”
“I said I’d take it on two conditions: a twenty percent across-the-board pay raise for all ER staff, and a zero-tolerance policy for administrative abuse.”
May you like
Roman chuckled, a rich, resonant sound that made the remaining stress in my chest vanish entirely. “I’d pity the first administrator who tries to argue with you.”
“They won't,” I said, leaning back slightly against his side. “They’ve all seen what happens when someone crosses my path.”
