Page 139 of Player Misconduct
“Yes, we had opened it a week prior and were gathering information, though just as the last time, we had no real evidence except for a complaint we received.”
Richard practically jumps out of his seat. “Is it possible that the same person made the exact same allegation against my client?’
She looks up, her expression carefully neutral, and then looks back over the file in front of her. "Yes, in fact, it would appear that the current complaint was also filed by Mr. McCoy."
The room goes still.
Richard's head snaps to me. "I'm sorry—are you saying that the only two allegations against my client, spanning two states and five years, both come from the same individual? Her ex-husband?"
Dr. Pierce glances at the file again, then nods slowly. "That appears to be correct."
My brain scrambles to catch up, pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity.
Tarron filed the first complaint.
Tarron.
Not some concerned colleague. Not a random reporter. Tarron.
And then when they didn’t have enough evidence of an inappropriate relationship between me and Aleksi… he made a scene at the Hawkeyes stadium, in front of cameras sure to catch it.
He did it to control me. To keep me isolated. To make sure no one else could have me if he couldn't.
And he's doing it again.
Richard leans forward, his voice sharpened now, no longer measured. "So my client's ex-husband—who cheated on her, drained their joint accounts, and left her in debt—is the sole source of every complaint that's threatened her career. And you didn't find that suspicious?"
Dr. Lowe shifts uncomfortably. Dr. Oswald glances at Dr. Pierce, who frowns but says nothing.
"Furthermore," Richard presses, "Mr. McCoy physically assaulted my client in a public venue days after he filed his complaint. He was intoxicated, aggressive, and had to be escorted out by security. Does that sound like a credible witness to you? Or someone trying to start something to get your attention."
Dr. Pierce's mouth tightens. "Be that as it may, Mr. Palmer, Dr. Hensen did engage in an intimate relationship with a patient under her care. That is a violation of—"
The doors burst open.
The sound echoes through the room like a gunshot.
Gasps ripple across the board members. Richard twists from where he stands. I freeze, heart hammering, as a figure strides into the room with the kind of quiet, controlled fury that makes the air itself go still.
Aleksi.
He's still in his Hawkeyes warm-up jacket, damp with rain, hair wild, chest heaving like he just ran a marathon. Behind him, Penelope appears in the doorway, phone in hand, expression somewhere between exasperated and triumphant.
"Kendall Hensen," Aleksi says, his voice steady but loud enough to echo off the walls, "is the best doctor this team has ever had."
Dr. Pierce stands, her expression thunderous. "Sir, this is a closed hearing. You have no right to—"
"I don't care," he says, crossing the room in long, purposeful strides. He stops at the edge of the table, hands braced on the back of the empty chair beside me, eyes locked on the board. "You're about to take away the license of a woman who saved a man's life midair. Who sat beside me in a motel room thinking we were dying. Who's risked everything for her patients and for me."
His voice cracks slightly on the last word, and something in my chest breaks open.
"She didn't seduce a player," he continues, his gaze sweeping across the board members. "She saved one. Me. She stayed with me that night because she thought it was our last one on earth. That's not misconduct—that's humanity."
Dr. Pierce's mouth opens, closes. She glances at her colleagues, clearly off-balance.
"And you are?" Dr. Lowe asks carefully.
"Aleksi Mäkelin. Right winger for the Seattle Hawkeyes." He pauses, his eyes finding mine. "And the father of her child."
