NICK
My assumption was simple: this was either more soul-crushing paperwork, a PR cleanup from some resident's botched bedside manner, or the usual hospital optics nonsense that required my face to be present so everyone else could feel important.
My eyes scanned the room with the professional habit of a surgeon assessing a trauma bay. I read the power dynamics before the door even clicked shut behind me.
This was not normal.
Seated around the polished mahogany table were the heavy hitters.
Dr. Marianne Voss, the Chief of Surgery, looking as sharp and unforgiving as a scalpel. Gregory Walsh, the Hospital Director, who looked like he'd been born in a suit. Amanda Chen, the Head of Public Relations, already had her tablet out.
There was a legal liaison I recognized as Mark, a quiet, observing shark, and two senior attendings, including Raymond Carmichael, who looked like he'd swallowed something bitter.
They were all already seated. They were all waiting for me.
