Page 209 of Toxic Temptation
People like Ihor don’t smile unless someone else is about to suffer.
I slip out of the locker room through the back exit, taking the long way around to avoid them. But I can’t shake the feeling that something is very, very wrong.
The feeling follows me all the way to the elevator bank, where I nearly collide with Dr. Preston Smith.
“Dr. Fairfax.” His usual warm smile is nowhere to be found. “I need to speak with you.”
My stomach drops. “Is this about the Callum surgery? Because everything went perfectly?—”
“It’s not about the surgery.” He rakes a hand through his graying hair. “I just wanted to give you a heads up… There’s been a complaint filed against you.”
I do a shocked double-take. “A complaint?”
“Anonymous complaint,” he clarifies. “But it’s serious enough that the administration wants to investigate.”
The elevator dings, but neither of us moves to get on. Around us, the hospital continues its endless rhythm—doctors rushing between rooms, nurses checking charts, the constant hum of machines keeping people alive.
I feel like I’m having a bad dream.
“What kind of complaint?”
“Professional misconduct. Specifically, allegations that you’ve been abusing your position to engage in inappropriate relationships with hospital donors.”
The words don’t make sense at first. Then they do, and the world tilts sideways.
“Hospital donors?” I repeat stupidly.
“Large donors,” Dr. Smith confirms. “The complaint suggests you’ve been trading sexual favors for funding.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out at first. This is insane. Completely insane. “Dr. Smith, I would never?—”
“I know.” His frown softens slightly. “I’ve worked with you for years, Vesper. I know the kind of doctor you are, the kind of person you are. But the complaint was detailed. Specific. And coming so soon after Mr. Krayev’s substantial donation…”
The pieces click together with horrible clarity. Kovan’s ten-million dollar donation to the pediatric wing. Our very public relationship. Just a few hours ago, when we raced down the hallhand-in-hand, giggling like schoolgirls, to have sweaty sex in a call room…
Someone has weaponized our relationship against me.
“This is ridiculous,” I say finally. “Completely ridiculous.”
“I agree. But until the investigation is complete, you’re suspended from surgery.”
If the first bombshell made me double-take, this one makes my jaw hit the floor. “Suspended?!”
“Pending investigation. You can still see patients, handle consultations. But no surgical procedures until this is resolved.”
I think about Mia Callum, sleeping peacefully in recovery. About all the other children who need surgery, who need someone to fight for them.
I’msupposed to be that someone.I’msupposed to be their superhero.
“How long?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Could be weeks. Could be months.”
The elevator dings again. This time, Dr. Smith steps inside. “For what it’s worth,” he says as the doors begin to close, “I think this is bullshit. But my hands are tied.”
The doors slide shut, leaving me alone in the hallway.
Superwoman just came crashing down to Earth.
