Page 101 of Doctor’s Forbidden Match

It’s a photograph. Printed on plain paper, grainy from enlargement, but clear enough. Me and Hannah. Outside her Airbnb, after the night she asked to see my place, the night everything shifted. I’m helping her, my hand at her waist, her face tipped up toward mine. We aren’t kissing. But the picture says everything Peltz needs it to say.

My stomach drops, but I keep my face blank.

“Where did you get that?”

“That’s not your concern.” He closes the folder. “What is your concern is what it represents. A senior surgeon, assigned to a high-profile patient on behalf of this hospital, photographed in what can only be described as an intimate situation outside of any clinical context.” Shaking his head, he sits back. “The network has already been in contact this morning. They’re not happy.”

“The network sent you that photograph?”

“The network has concerns about the nature of your relationship with Miss Morgan and, frankly, so do I.” His eyes narrow. “You were placed with her to protect this hospital’s liability. Not to pursue a personal relationship with a VIP patient.”

“I haven’t pursued anything inappropriate. My care of Miss Morgan has been documented, professional, and exemplary. She’s recovering ahead of schedule.”

“That photograph suggests otherwise.”

“That photograph shows me helping a patient with mobility difficulties navigate her front steps,” I say calmly. Even though every instinct I have is screaming, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction. “Which is exactly what I was assigned to do.”

Peltz’s expression doesn’t change. “The board disagrees. A formal complaint has been filed, citing gross violation of professional ethics and hospital liability with a high-profile client. You’re suspended, effective immediately, pending the outcome of the investigation.”

My stomach twists. “Suspended?”

“You should consider yourself fortunate it isn’t a termination.” He stands, buttoning his jacket. “Clear any personal belongings you need. Security will escort you from the building.”

“This is wrong.” My hands are shaking. I press them flat against my thighs. “You know it is. Someone leaked that photograph specifically to trigger this, and you’re letting them.”

“What I know,” Peltz says, walking around the desk to face me directly, “is that your father always said you were too arrogant for your own good. That you’d let your ego get you into trouble you couldn’t get yourself out of. Turns out, he was right.”

The mention of my father is like a kick to my guts.

“I can clear this review.” Peltz continues. “The board will follow my recommendation. But it’s going to cost you the Senior Surgeon title. You’ll step back into a standard attending role, reduced OR privileges, supervised for six months. You prove yourself again from the ground up.” He lifts his head. “Or the investigation runs its full course, and I make no guarantees about the outcome.”

I can only stare at him.

This is what he’s always wanted. Not the network contract, not Hannah’s recovery, not the hospital’s reputation. Me, gone and back in my place, under his thumb and carrying my father’s shadow so he can use it whenever he needs leverage.

“Who’s taking over Miss Morgan’s care?” I ask.

He waves a dismissive hand. “Miss Morgan’s filming obligations are nearly complete. Dain indicated they’ll manage without additional medical support.”

“She still needs—”

“She’s not your concern anymore, Dr. Sterling.”

The casual dismissal of her care makes me angry, but what can I say? That she needs me? That’ll only make this worse.

He opens the door, where two security guards are waiting in the hallway.

I turn back to Peltz.

“I’ll clear my name. And when I do, we’re going to have a very different conversation.”

“I look forward to it,” he says, in a tone that makes it clear he doesn’t believe that day is coming.

I walk past the security guards and let them fall into step behind me. The hallway feels endless. Every nurse, doctor, and intern who passes stops to stare. Word travels fast in hospitals.

My phone buzzes as I reach the exit.

Hannah: Where are you? Are you okay? Please, tell me you’re okay.