I was hunched over my desk in my office at St. Aurelius Medical Center, my eyes strained from reviewing the medical records of patients who had developed unexplained complications following surgery. Three weeks had passed since these incidents began, and each time I revisited the files, a heavy weight lingered in my chest.
I am well-acquainted with my work—I have devoted all my time and effort to being a competent cardiothoracic surgeon. Every incision, every suture, every decision I make is for the sake of my patients' lives. Thus, when I heard a knock on the door and saw the man in a suit suggesting affiliation with a high-end firm, I immediately suspected his purpose for being there.
"Dr. Megan Alzie Mandatore De la Sombra?" he asked, his voice carrying a peculiar tone as if he already knew everything. "I am Roverth Corringan, a private investigator. I wish to speak with you about several patients who died after you performed their surgeries."
A cold chill washed over me. "I will not speak with you if this is how you intend to begin," I stated firmly, setting down the paper in my hand. "I cared for each of my patients with complete dedication. If you are searching for a crime, you may have approached the wrong person."
"I am not accusing you of guilt, doctor," he replied, placing a folder on my desk as if oblivious to the tension in the room. Yet to me, it felt as though I had been struck by the implication that my work might be deficient. "However, the evidence I have gathered—discrepant laboratory results, suddenly altered appointments, unfamiliar suppliers—suggests that something unusual is occurring within this hospital."
"You have no idea how demanding our work is here!" I exclaimed, feeling tears welling in my eyes. "We contend with life and death every single day! Sometimes, even when you do everything correctly, there are factors beyond our control."
Roverth simply stood there, his gaze steady as he looked at me. "I know how hard you work," he said, his tone now calmer. "That is precisely why I am here. Because if you performed these surgeries and are certain you did everything correctly, it means someone else is acting maliciously to cover up their own wrongdoings. Is it not your patients' right to know the truth?"
I paused at his words. I stared at the folder on my desk, then at him—at eyes that seemed genuinely concerned, not for himself but for the lives lost. "You do not understand," I whispered, straightening the papers before me. "If something is amiss, perhaps it is better left uninvestigated. Too many people could be harmed—my colleagues here, the patients' families, even us."
"And what if you are harmed?" he asked, stepping slightly closer to the desk. "Far more lives might be lost if you do not act now."
I was surprised by the courage in his voice. For years, I had played it safe, following the rules to preserve the hospital's reputation and my career. But now, I faced a stranger willing to risk everything for justice.
"Fine," I conceded, picking up a sheet of paper and writing down details of the first patients to develop complications. "But if anyone at the hospital is harmed because of you, I will not forgive you. Do you understand that, Roverth Corringan?"
"I understand, doctor," he replied, offering a small smile. "And one more thing—you will not be alone in this search. Because if there is wrongdoing here, we must work together to stop it before it is too late."
I took the folder he had given me, and I felt my heart race in time with the speed at which I scanned its contents. There were photos of the patients, copies of their lab results, and even transactions seemingly unrelated to the hospital.
"How did you obtain this?" I asked, amazed by the volume of information he had gathered.
"Connections," he said briefly, sitting down in the chair across from my desk as if no invitation were needed.
"But that is not the only thing you need to know—the last patient who died was linked to a major company that supplies drugs and equipment to St. Aurelius."
"That cannot be," I said immediately, setting the folder down. "The hospital board vetted all your suppliers. They are all legitimate, licensed, and compliant with regulations."
Roverth stood again and paced slightly in my small office. "Regulations exist only on paper, doctor," he said, looking out the window at the hospital parking lot. "But do you know that company is owned by a family with ties to politicians and business leaders across the country? If they are doing something wrong, they will not let the media or government uncover it."
Tension settled over the room once more. "So now you are suggesting that even the people we are supposed to trust are involved?" I asked sharply, feeling anger rise again. "I cannot bring myself to believe that my colleagues here—doctors, nurses, administrative staff I work with daily—could do this."
"I am not saying all of them are involved," he replied, looking at me again with a hint of sympathy. "But there are those who will sell their conscience for money or to protect their position. And if you do not act now, you may miss your chance to reveal the truth." He stepped closer again and handed me a small flash drive. "I have additional files here—recorded conversations, documents not yet shared with anyone. I only ask that you give yourself a chance to see what is really happening."
I stared at the flash drive in his hand, then at his eyes. In truth, I had long sensed something was off—moments when I felt other doctors were hiding something, times when protocols were suddenly changed without notice. But I was afraid—afraid of losing the career I had worked for, afraid of endangering the people I cared about, afraid of being wrong and tarnishing the hospital my ancestors had built. Yet as I looked at Roverth, I heard the voices of the patients who had not survived surgery.
"Alright," I said, taking the flash drive and inserting it into my computer. "But I cannot give you the answer you want right away. I need to review all of this—carefully and thoroughly."
He smiled slightly, as if he had been holding his breath. "Take all the time you need, doctor. Just remember—you are not alone in this. When you are ready to truly begin, you know where to find me." Before he left, he looked at me once more. "And one more thing—be careful. Sometimes, the greatest threat comes from those you least expect."
He exited my office, leaving me alone with the papers and the flash drive—like a bomb that could detonate at any moment.
I began to open the files, and as I read through the details, I knew there was no turning back. The search for justice had begun—and it was going to change everything.