Doctor Love

Chapter 4

KATE’S POV

Humiliation burns hotter than any fever I've ever treated. That's what I thought as I practically ran down the pristine hallways of Meridian Grace, desperate to find somewhere to hide before the tears broke free.

"Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom," I muttered under my breath, frantically scanning the signs until I spotted the universal female silhouette.

I burst through the door, grateful to find it empty, and locked myself in the furthest stall just as the first sob escaped my throat. The sound echoed against the marble tiles, making it seem even more pathetic than it felt.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I whispered, sinking down onto the closed toilet lid. "What made you think you could compete in a place like this?"

David's mocking whisper still burned in my ear: Your place is behind the reception desk! As if five years of saving lives meant nothing compared to an Ivy League degree.

"Harvard," I spat the word out between sobs. "As if that automatically makes him a better medical professional."

I fumbled in my purse for tissues, only to find the travel pack empty. Of course. Just another perfect detail for this perfectly horrible day.

"Fine," I said aloud, tearing off some toilet paper to dab at my eyes. "So Meridian Grace doesn't want me. There are other hospitals. Better hospitals. Hospitals where people actually care about patient outcomes more than designer shoes."

But even as I tried to console myself, the rejection stung. I'd built this place up in my mind for so long. Meridian Grace was supposed to be the pinnacle—the place where the best of the best provided unparalleled care. Instead, it was just another exclusive club where connections mattered more than competence.

After a few minutes of quiet crying, I took a deep breath and stood up. My reflection in the stall door's metal surface was blurry but clearly showed mascara tracks down my cheeks. Great. Now I looked as pathetic as I felt.

"Pull yourself together, Kate," I commanded my reflection. "You've been through worse."

I unlocked the stall and approached the sink, turning on the cold water to splash my face. The cool liquid felt good against my hot skin.

"This is just a setback," I told myself as I washed away the mascara streaks. "You'll find another position. Somewhere that actually values experience over education."

The bathroom door swung open just as I was reaching for a paper towel. I froze, water dripping down my face, as Rita sauntered in with that predatory smile of hers.

"Well, well," she said, letting the door swing shut behind her. "Look what we have here."

"Don't tell me you got kicked out?" Rita asked, her voice dripping with false concern. Her eyes traveled over my wet face, taking in the obvious signs of crying. "I knew it. Loser."

I crumpled the paper towel in my fist. "Do you rehearse being cruel, or does it just come naturally to you?"

"Ouch," Rita placed a manicured hand over her heart. "Someone's a sore loser."

"Why are you all such jerks here?" The question burst out of me before I could stop it. "Is being mean a job requirement at Meridian Grace?"

Rita laughed, the sound bouncing harshly off the marble walls. "Honey, this is the world of elite medicine. Get used to it." She approached the sink next to mine, checking her flawless makeup in the mirror. "The weak get filtered out. It's natural selection."

"There's nothing natural about treating people like garbage," I retorted, tossing my crumpled paper towel into the trash with more force than necessary.

"Oh, please." Rita rolled her eyes. "You think patients come to Meridian Grace for our bedside manner? They come for the best. And the best don't waste time coddling mediocrity."

I grabbed my purse from the counter, determined to leave before I said something I'd regret. "You know what? I'm glad I won't be working here. I'd rather be unemployed than spend my days with people who think cruelty is a professional skill."

I turned to leave, but Rita stepped into my path.

"One more thing before you go," she said, her smile turning even nastier. She reached for the sink behind her and before I could react, she had filled her cupped hands with water. "A little something to remember us by."

The cold water hit my face and chest, soaking the front of my already-inadequate dress. I gasped, stumbling backward in shock.

"Welcome to elite medicine, Westlake," Rita said with a mocking curtsy before turning on her heel and walking out, her laughter lingering in the air like a bad smell.

I stood there, water dripping down my face again, but this time with humiliation rather than self-pity burning through me.

"Breathe," I whispered to myself. "Just breathe."

But my body wasn't cooperating. A familiar tingling sensation started in my right hand, traveling up my arm. No. Not now. Not here.

My fingers began to twitch, small involuntary movements that I recognized all too well. I fumbled with my purse, hands shaking as I searched frantically for my pill bottle.

"Come on, come on," I muttered, my fingers closing around the small plastic container just as the tremors intensified.

I twisted the cap off with practiced speed, tipped two small pills into my palm, and swallowed them dry. Then I leaned against the sink, breathing deeply, willing the medication to work quickly.

After a minute, the tremors subsided. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, to see my wet hair, soaked dress, and pale face. I straightened my shoulders, smoothed my wet dress as best I could, and walked out of the bathroom with what dignity I had left.

The reception area was busy now, visitors and patients filling the waiting chairs. I kept my head down, aiming straight for the elevator. The sooner I was out of Meridian Grace, the better.

"Excuse me, miss? Are you a doctor?"

I looked up to see a young guy watching me from one of the waiting chairs. He looked frail, his skin papery and pale, but his eyes were alert and concerned.

"No, I'm—I was—" I struggled to explain without revealing my humiliation.

"Are you okay? You don't look well."

The kindness in his voice almost undid me. After a morning of nothing but cruelty, simple human concern felt overwhelming.

"I'm fine," I managed, attempting a smile. "Thank you for asking."

"You're shivering," he observed, his brow furrowing with concern.

I glanced down and realized he was right. Despite the warm temperature in the reception area, my hands were trembling slightly—an aftereffect of the small seizure.

"It's nothing," I assured him. "Just a little—"

I never finished the sentence. The man's eyes suddenly rolled back in his head, his body going rigid before he pitched forward from his chair. He hit the floor with a sickening thud, limbs beginning to jerk violently.