CHAPTER 18

Amanda’s POV

For the first time in weeks, the hospital felt… normal.

The chaos of the past month  the endless influx of patients, the media circus, the whispered gossip in the hallways  had finally begun to settle. The interviews I’d pushed myself through, one after the other, had done their job. The constant flash of cameras and the endless parade of questions had drained me, but the noise online had finally quieted.

It wasn’t a win. Not really. But it was a reprieve, and I needed it.

Even so, the board had put me on probation “pending further review.” Their tone in the meeting had been polite, but the words had landed like a stone in my stomach. Adam’s voice echoed in my head from the night I’d called him ready to quit — telling me that running would only hand victory to whoever had orchestrated this mess.

So I stayed. I pushed harder. I doubled my shifts, picked up cases no one else wanted, and made damn sure every patient who left my care had no reason to complain.

The effort was already showing. The staff had started to relax around me again, the constant sideways glances easing. The ER ran smoother now too, partly because the hospital had finally recruited more doctors. Fresh faces, fresh energy.

Unfortunately, not all fresh faces were welcome ones.

I was halfway through reviewing a post-op chart when the new guy, Dr. Carter, strode into my office without knocking.

“Dr. James, this discharge form—” He dropped the file on my desk, his tone sharp. “You marked the patient as fit to leave, but their vitals from an hour ago don’t look stable.”

I looked up slowly. “The patient had been cleared after observation. Vitals fluctuate post-op. It’s in the notes.”

He crossed his arms. “Still seems reckless.”

The words landed like a slap. My pen stilled in my hand. “Reckless?” I repeated, my voice low. “That decision was made after three separate checks, two by me and one by another attending. If you have an issue with protocol, you can review it  politely  instead of barging into my office and throwing accusations around.”

Dr. Carter didn’t flinch. “I’m just saying—”

“I’ve heard enough,” I cut in. My patience was already fraying from weeks of constant scrutiny; I wasn’t about to let some new arrival add fuel to the fire. “I don’t need lectures from someone who’s been here less than a week. You have a concern, you bring it through proper channels. Until then, stay out of my office unless invited.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded once and left.

I leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to exhale slowly. The last thing I needed was to start snapping at colleagues  especially the junior ones. If I lashed out too often, the board would have one more reason to keep me on probation.

Mental note: avoid Carter unless absolutely necessary.

It was a Saturday, which meant Levi was with me at the hospital instead of at school. I’d cleared a corner of my office for him small desk, coloring supplies, and a couple of the board games he loved. Between patient rounds, I’d duck in to check on him.

This time, I found him sitting cross-legged on the floor, building an elaborate tower out of Jenga blocks.

“Careful,” I warned as I knelt beside him. “That base is looking shaky.”

He grinned. “I’ve got it, Mom. Watch.”

Sure enough, he slid another block into place without the tower collapsing.

We played two rounds before my pager buzzed, summoning me back to the ER. Before I left, I ruffled his hair. “Stay here, champ. I’ll be back soon.”

He nodded, his eyes bright. “We’ll finish this game later. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Walking out of the office, I thought about how easy it was to forget the outside noise when I was with him. How even in the middle of a storm, Levi could center me in a way nothing else could. He was my anchor  my reason for fighting this fight at all.

And I wasn’t about to let anyone take him from me.

By late afternoon, the ER had quieted enough for me to return to my office. Levi was curled up in my chair, doodling on a pad of paper, tongue sticking out in concentration.

“Mom, look,” he said, holding up the page. He’d drawn the two of us, stick figures holding hands, with a giant sun overhead.

My chest tightened. “That’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

I took the drawing and pinned it to the corkboard above my desk. “Now it’s official hospital art.”

He beamed, and for a moment, it felt like nothing could touch us.

Then I saw the envelope.

It was lying on my desk, plain white, my name typed neatly across the front. No return address, but I didn’t need one. The weight of it in my hand was enough to make my stomach knot.

I opened it, the rustle of paper sounding far too loud in the quiet room.

Inside was a letter from Ryan’s lawyer.

The language was polite but icy a formal notice that Ryan intended to “review custody arrangements” and “ensure the child’s best interests are met.” No specifics, no accusations, but the implication was clear: this was the opening shot in another battle.

My grip tightened on the letter until the paper crinkled.

Levi looked up from his drawing. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

I forced my expression into something neutral, slipping the letter back into its envelope. “Nothing, baby. Just work stuff.”

But my mind was already racing. Ryan wasn’t letting this go. The restraining order hadn’t slowed him down — if anything, it had pushed him to escalate.

I glanced at the drawing on the corkboard again, the stick-figure me holding stick-figure Levi’s hand. My jaw set.

If Ryan thought a lawyer’s letter was going to scare me into backing down, he didn’t know me at all.

I’d been through public humiliation, hospital probation, and weeks of relentless pressure, and I was still here.

If he wanted a fight, he was going to get one.

And this time, I wasn’t just defending my job. I was defending my son.