The truth has a price

The stranger disappeared before Ethan could get a clear look at his face, his boots crunched against the gravel as he stepped toward the road, eyes narrowing at the empty corner where the man had vanished.

"Officer?"

Grandpa Ben's granddaughter called, pulling him from his thoughts, Ethan turned back with a faint smile. "Everything alright?"

"Doctor Ariana is asking for you."

He glanced toward the small house where Ariana was helping Grandpa Ben settle into bed. She was focused on checking his pulse, completely unaware that someone had been watching her only moments ago.

Or maybe she was simply too trusting.

Ethan looked once more at the road.

Nothing.

Not even footprints.

His instincts rarely failed him, and right now, they were screaming that something wasn't right.

---

Three days later, Grandpa Ben had recovered enough to complain about being treated like an invalid.

"I'm telling you, Ariana, I'm perfectly healthy."

"You nearly died."

"I fainted."

"You stopped breathing."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Details."

I crossed my arms and stared at him.

"They're not details."

"They are."

"They're not."

"They—"

"Grandpa."

He sighed dramatically before lifting both hands in surrender.

"Fine. You win."

"I always do."

He grumbled under his breath while swallowing the last of his medication.

"I don't know why everyone listens to you."

"Because I'm the doctor."

"They're all traitors."

I laughed despite myself.

"You'll be back to arguing with Mrs. Martha at the market in another week, i can argue with her today."

"No."

"Tomorrow?"

"No."

"What about this evening?"

I pointed toward the bed.

"You'll stay exactly where you are."

He looked at his granddaughter with exaggerated sadness.

"See how she bullies old people?"

His granddaughter giggled.

"I think she's right."

Grandpa Ben gasped.

"Even you?"

"I'd rather have you alive than stubborn."

He looked around the room before muttering, "Nobody appreciates me anymore."

I shook my head with a smile before packing my stethoscope.

"Rest. That's an order."

"As if I have a choice."

"You don't."

Outside his house, the afternoon breeze carried the smell of fresh bread from the bakery across the road.

Children chased one another through the square while women arranged vegetables on wooden stalls.

Everything looked so peaceful.

It was hard to believe I'd be leaving in four days.

"Doctor Ariana!"

Mrs. Martha hurried toward me, carrying a basket.

"We're planning your farewell dinner for Saturday."

"You really don't have to."

"Nonsense."

"I'll only be moving."

"Exactly." She smiled sadly. "That's why we have to celebrate."

By the time I reached the clinic, flowers had already been left outside my door.

Some were from patients.

Others had little handwritten notes tucked beneath the ribbons.

Thank you for never giving up on me.

We'll miss you.

Come back and visit.

My throat tightened.

I hadn't realized I'd become such a big part of this village until I was preparing to leave it.

I unlocked the clinic and stepped inside.

The familiar scent of disinfectant greeted me.

For years, this tiny building had been my second home.

Soon...

It would belong to someone else, I had barely organized my desk when the front door opened again.

A woman in an expensive navy dress walked inside.

She didn't belong here, not with polished heels that had never touched muddy roads.

Not with diamond earrings that probably cost more than the clinic itself.

She removed her sunglasses slowly.

"Dr. Ariana?"

"Yes."

"I'm Eleanor Briggs."

The name sounded familiar.

I just couldn't remember where I'd heard it, She looked around the clinic before offering a practised smile.

"I've heard wonderful things about you."

"Thank you. How can I help you?"

Instead of answering, she placed a thick brown envelope on my desk.

I frowned.

"I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

"No."

She gently pushed the envelope closer.

"It's for you."

I didn't touch it.

"What is it?"

"A token of appreciation."

"For?"

"My husband."

The smile on my face disappeared.

Mr. Harold Briggs.

The wealthy businessman whose sudden death had shaken the village two weeks ago.

His autopsy had revealed traces of poison.

I still remember signing the report.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said quietly.

"So am I."

Silence settled between us.

Then she spoke again.

"I came because I need a small favour."

"What kind of favour?"

"Amend the death certificate."

I stared at her.

"I'm sorry?"

She folded her hands neatly on her lap.

"Change the cause of death from poisoning to heart failure."

For a moment, I honestly thought I'd misheard her.

"I can't do that."

"You can."

"No."

"It would save my family's reputation."

I shook my head.

"It would also be illegal."

Her smile faded.

"No one has to know."

"I would know."

She leaned forward.

"Name your price."

I looked at the envelope again.

Money.

Enough to tempt almost anyone.

But not me.

"I became a doctor to save lives, Mrs. Briggs. Not to rewrite the truth."

Her eyes turned cold.

"You think the truth matters?"

"I do."

She let out a quiet laugh.

"You're young."

"I'm old enough to know right from wrong."

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she stood.

She picked up the envelope before slipping it back into her handbag.

"You have quite the reputation for honesty."

"I'd like to keep it that way."

She walked toward the door.

Just before leaving, she paused without turning around.

"Some truths come with consequences, Doctor."

The door clicked shut behind her.

A strange chill ran down my spine, i stood there for several seconds, staring at the closed door.

Then I shook my head, she was grieving. People said things they didn't mean when they were hurting, at least, that's what I wanted to believe.