Chapter 6
Adam took over.
"The patient became emotional before the transfer, and the family got in the way. The nursing team failed to clear the area promptly," Adam said.
I looked at the child's mother.
She sat across from me, her face pale and defeated.
"Did you try to stop her before boarding?" I asked.
She paused for a moment.
"No. We were waiting," she replied.
Adam's expression shifted slightly.
Claire burst into tears.
"She was too upset at the time and might not remember clearly. I saw her grabbing the cabin door, crying," Claire said.
Claire's words made the mother's anger flare up and turn on me.
"My daughter lost a leg, and you still want me to remember these details?" she snapped.
The person in charge nodded.
"The family is emotional, which is understandable. Summer, don't try to lead the family," he said.
I smiled.
"So asking for facts is considered leading, but what do you call editing the footage?" I shot back.
Claire's eyes were red.
"You say I edited the footage. Do you have any proof?" she shot back.
Adam pushed a document forward.
"This is the call summary from the on-board recorder. There's nothing about the milk tea, and no mention of you slamming the headset," he said.
I glanced at it.
The summary was squeaky clean.
So clean, it felt like someone had wiped it down ahead of time.
The person in charge looked at me.
"Summer, do you have anything else to say?" he asked.
I said, "I want to see the original records."
Adam said coldly, "The original records contain sensitive flight information. They're not something you can access because you want to."
"I was the co-pilot on duty," I said.
"You're off the job," Adam shot back.
That one line killed any chance I had.
Claire spoke softly, trying to calm me down.
"Summer, don't make this harder on yourself. Just sign it, it'll make things easier for everyone," she said.
The person in charge slid the responsibility statement across the table to me.
"If you admit you weren't cooperative, the hospital might keep the punishment quiet. You're pregnant. Causing a fuss won't help you," he said.
The mother stood up.
"Not public? Why shouldn't it be public? I want her to get down on her knees and apologize to my daughter," she demanded.
Nobody stopped her in the conference room.
Adam looked at me, like he was giving me one last chance.
"Just get on your knees, and it'll all be over," he said.
Lisa was pounding on the door from outside.
Lisa shouted, "Dr. Hughes, don't listen to them."
I looked at Adam.
"Do you think I should kneel too?" I asked.
Adam said, "That's what you owe the child."
I stood up.
The screech of the chair legs against the floor cut through the room.
The mother thought I was about to apologize. Her eyes, burning with hatred, finally saw a chance for release.
Claire held her breath.
I walked to the door and let Lisa in.
"She's a witness. You wouldn't let her in for the hearing, but the responsibility statement is already written up. What's the rush?" I said.
The person in charge looked visibly uncomfortable.
Lisa rushed in and slapped a clear bag down on the table.
Inside was half a pink sticker.
"Ripped straight off the milk tea cup. The time, the shop name, and the order number are all right here," Lisa said.
Claire's face drained of color.
Adam stared at the sticker, his fingers curling tight.
The person in charge paused for a few seconds, then said, "A sticker doesn't prove why there was a delay."
I nodded.
"Then let's keep digging," I said.
Adam shot to his feet.
"Summer, are you really going to drag everyone into this mess?" he snapped.
I looked at him.
"Not everyone. Just the ones who belong in this mess," I replied.
The hearing went nowhere.
Or maybe they were too scared to let it end with a real answer.
That afternoon, the hospital released a statement.
It said the delay during the transfer was caused by staff miscommunication. I was suspended from all transfer duties, Adam had to submit a written report, and Claire was officially not blamed.
Lisa stormed in, her hands shaking with anger as she clutched her phone.
"They're throwing you under the bus," she said.
I sat on the edge of my dorm bed, slipping a stack of medical record copies into a folder.
"I saw this coming," I said.
Lisa was freaking out.
"How can you be so calm? People are dragging you through the mud online. The family posted a video, claiming you were jealous even while pregnant, and blaming you for their daughter losing her leg," she said.
She handed me her phone.
In the video, the mother was crying so hard she could barely stay on her feet.
"I don't understand your hospital rules. All I know is I was on my knees, begging them to take off. That woman, Summer, could've flown, but she didn't. She watched as my daughter missed her window," the mother said.
Each comment was nastier than the last.
Someone even said my unborn child deserves to know what it's like to lose a leg.
People dug up my address, and even brought up my father's old case from the past.
Lisa said, "This isn't blowing up on its own. Someone's paying to make this go viral."
I stared at the comment Claire had posted from her burner account.
"Yeah," I said.
Lisa followed my gaze.
The account said: "Heard the co-pilot landed the captain by playing dirty back in the day, and now she's jealous of the nurse all over again."