Chapter 4

A collective gasp rippled through the surrounding doctors and nurses.

Cole was the first to snap. "Blaire, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

In an instant, the two men in black moved in and shoved him hard against the wall.

My eyes burned as I stared at the notice in Blaire's hand, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.

"Well?" She curled her lip, her eyes gleaming with pure malice. "What's it going to be, Dr. Whitlock? Are you sticking to your precious protocols, or do you want what's left of your sister?"

Just then, a flurry of hurried footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.

Vincent came sprinting into view, flanked by several people from the hospital's administrative office.

"Asher!" he barked before he even reached me. "This is an emergency exception. You're going into that resuscitation bay right now, and if anything goes sideways, I, as the executive vice president, will assume full responsibility."

Looking at him, I let out a cold laugh and stood rooted to my spot.

"Uncle Vincent, Malcolm is running out of time!" Blaire cried, her voice shaking.

Vincent's jaw tightened before he whirled around. "Get me paper and a pen!"

Right there on the triage desk, he scrawled out an official emergency authorization, signed it, and slammed it down in front of me.

The notice read, "In light of the patient's critical condition, Dr. Asher Whitlock is temporarily permitted to lead the emergency surgery. Any medical consequences shall be borne entirely by the surgical team."

I stared at the paperwork and smiled.

A bureaucrat would always be a bureaucrat. Even when backed into a corner, he was still playing slimy word games.

If the surgery went well, Malcolm would live, and Vincent would casually steal the credit for saving the day.

If it failed, I would be flagged for the illegal practice of medicine, and the surgical team would be left to take the fall.

Vincent pointed at the two men in black. "What are you two standing around for? Get the sterile gown on him and get him into the resuscitation bay!"

The men quickly grabbed a spare sterile gown from the triage desk and tried to force it onto me.

Spencer stepped forward to stop them, but Vincent violently shoved him out of the way.

"Stay out of this, Spencer!" Vincent snapped.

I didn't budge.

I let the straps of the gown hang loose off my shoulder as I turned my gaze toward the back of the triage desk. Tucked away in the corner was a half-empty bottle of liquor.

Judging from where it had been placed, it was probably contraband confiscated from some drunk who had caused a scene earlier.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone in the room, I pulled my arms free from the men in black and picked up the bottle of liquor.

I twisted the cap off.

"What are you doing?" asked Blaire, momentarily paralyzed.

Vincent's brows knitted together. "Cut the theatrics. Go scrub in already!"

I completely ignored them. Instead, I brought the open bottle directly to my lips.