Chapter 3

Ronan instinctively covered the badge with his hand, terrified I'd snatch it away.

Chin raised, he doubled down. "This is an insignia given to the clinic's new head. After you left, I submitted a management qualification review. The Council decided I was better suited to handle daily operations."

I stared at the badge in his hand. "That is my badge!"

Ronan let out a derisive snort. "Prove it."

"The registration number is MD-NA-0742. It was issued five years ago on November seventeenth. At the Northern District Council Medical Department headquarters.

"The person who presented it was Eileen Soto, the head of the Medical Department at the time."

The words poured out of me as if I'd recited them a thousand times.

"Enough."

Ronan tried to cut me off, but I didn't stop.

"Since you claim to be the person in charge of this clinic, do you have a medical license?"

Ronan's fingers stiffened. He said nothing.

"Mira," my voice trembled, "please contact the Council Central Archives for verification!"

Mira nodded and stepped into a corner with her phone.

Ava glanced at Ronan's rigid expression, rested a hand on her belly, and stood. "The Council values his management skills. He ran the logistics dispatch hub for our district. He has way more operational experience than you.

"A medical license only proves you can prescribe drugs and do surgeries. It doesn't mean you can run a clinic."

Ronan nodded vigorously, thrilled by his partner's endorsement.

His hand went to the badge again. His fingertips were visibly grimy, and dirty smudges immediately marred the insignia.

I couldn't take it anymore. On impulse, I lunged forward and reached for the badge.

But I was no match for Ronan's strength. He seized my wrist.

"That's enough."

Carmen charged over at the same moment, clamping both hands on my shoulders and yanking me backward.

Caught off guard, I lost my balance. The small of my back slammed into the edge of the triage counter behind me.

An uncapped medicine bottle on the counter toppled over. Glass shards scattered, and one sliced across the outside of my right forearm.

Blood immediately ran down my arm and dripped onto the floor.

Mira rushed over, hanging up her call, and steadied me.

I drew a deep breath and forced myself to stay calm.

Ava screamed at the sight of blood, as though she were the one injured.

Ronan pulled her into his arms, murmuring reassurances, and then had the nerve to call Officer Marsh first.

"Someone broke into my clinic, impersonating the person in charge and trying to steal Council property. My pregnant wife is scared out of her mind... Yes, there's blood at the scene."

It was my clinic. I was the one hurt. And yet the way he told it, everything was my fault.

I pulled out my phone, photographed my wound and the scene, then called my lawyer, Nora.

"Seventh Avenue Neutral Clinic, North District. Illegal occupation, unauthorized access code changes, stolen Council-issued badge. Assault on the premises resulting in injury. There are security cameras and photos. I need you to bring the authorization certificate. Yes, including five years of house call records and annual credentials. Digital and hard copies."

Ronan's phone call went quiet.

Ten minutes later, Officer Marsh arrived. The same one from last night.

Ronan jumped in eagerly. "This woman is not a clinic employee. She has no authorization whatsoever.

"Today she barged in and tried to steal Council-issued property. She upset my pregnant wife so badly she started having contractions.

"My mother-in-law tried to stop her, and she threw herself into the triage counter."

Ava sniffled and backed up Ronan between sobs. "My husband is the one in charge here. This woman is a bitter ex who keeps finding excuses to harass us."

I clenched my jaw and decided to stop engaging with these two.

I opened the email I'd just received on my phone and turned the screen toward Officer Marsh.

It was a forwarded message from Mira. An automated receipt from the Central Archives confirming they'd received the authorization verification request. Estimated response time: two hours.

But the more important one was underneath.

A message from my lawyer, Nora. "On my way. Bringing copies of the authorization certificate and five years of electronic credentials. One hour out."

With blood still on my fingers, I tapped the clock on my phone.

"Officer Marsh, my documentation is on the way.

"In the meantime, I'm requesting physical preservation of the scene, including the glass fragments from the triage counter, the bloodstains on the floor tiles, and the access log."

I paused, then turned to look at Ronan.

"And that badge. Please don't let it get any dirtier."