His Dying Son On My TableChapter 3

During ward rounds the next morning, a crowd had gathered outside the ICU. Chelsea was sitting on the floor, her hair disheveled, screaming at a young nurse.

"Is this how you run a hospital? My son just had major chest surgery yesterday, and now he has a fever! Did you give him the wrong medication?"

The young nurse’s eyes were rimmed with red as she stammered, "Mrs. Henderson, a post-operative absorption fever is perfectly normal. We've already started non-pharmacological cooling protocols..."

"Don't try to hide behind your medical jargon!" Chelsea lunged to her feet, shoving the nurse back. "Get the chief of surgery! Get Juliette out here! She's still bitter about what happened five years ago. She did something to my boy on purpose!"

I walked through the crowd, clipboard in hand. "Mrs. Henderson, this is the Intensive Care Unit. Keep your voice down."

The moment Chelsea saw me, her eyes flared. She charged at me. "Juliette! You finally showed your face! What did you do to my son?" She raised her hand to slap me, but the military guards intercepted her just in time.

Ryan came rushing down the corridor. He pulled Chelsea into his arms, shielding her behind him. "What's going on here?" He looked between Chelsea and me, his forehead creasing.

The trembling nurse quickly explained the situation. After listening, Ryan turned his gaze to me. "Juliette, Chelsea is just frantic about the baby. Couldn't you have just explained it to her calmly? Did you have to let it escalate like this?"

There it was again—his trademark neutrality. Always playing the mediator, always shielding his precious Chelsea under the guise of reason.

"General Henderson," I said, shutting the chart. "During our pre-op consultation, I explicitly informed you of the risks of post-operative fever and infection. Your signature is on that consent form. If your wife has doubts about our treatment, she is welcome to file for a formal medical review. But if she continues to disrupt this ward and disturb other recovering patients, I will have security remove her."

Chelsea glared at me from behind Ryan's shoulder, her teeth gritted. "Go ahead, call them! You think I'm scared of you? I saw my husband hand you that fifty-thousand-dollar card last night! Stop acting so righteous, Juliette. You blackmailed my husband using our son's life!"

The corridor fell dead silent. Every eye in the hallway locked onto me. The young nurse gasped, her mouth hanging open.

Ryan's face went completely pale. He whipped around, glaring at Chelsea. "What the hell are you talking about? Shut up!"

But Chelsea thought she had won. Her expression turned smug. "Me, lying? Juliette is a shameless thief! She used her position as chief surgeon to solicit a massive bribe from a patient's family! I'm going to report you to the board! I will ruin your career!"

Ryan grabbed Chelsea’s arm with a bruising grip, trying to drag her away. He looked back at me, his eyes pleading, filled with silent desperation. "Juliette, go back to your office. I'll handle this."

He expected me to panic, to scramble to defend myself. But I just stood there, quietly watching their little domestic drama.

"Sure," I said. I pulled out my phone and dialed the hospital's internal ethics committee line. "Director Collins, please come up to the ICU. I have a family member here making a formal accusation of bribery against me."

The sharp dial tone echoed loudly down the silent hallway.