The Cold Surgeon's Contract Bride novel Chapter 33

"Does it matter?" The Iron Mask didn't address my question directly. "A surgery is a collaborative effort between two departments. As a member of Capital General, you should consider it an honor to be the one communicating with the patient's family."

An honor?

Since when did taking the fall for someone else come with a sense of prestige?

My gut told me this wasn't as simple as it seemed.

Noticing my silence, Dr. Logan pressed on. "Besides, the 'complications' the family is so worked up about are completely normal post-anesthesia reactions. Recovery takes time. All you have to do is explain the timeline to them."

I stared at him in utter disbelief. "I'm just going to explain it to them?"

"Exactly. You're basically just educating them," Dr. Logan replied decisively. "These kinds of disputes happen all the time in our department. Getting involved now will help you build experience early on. Your performance review includes conflict resolution, doesn't it? Well, this is your perfect training ground."

He waved me off, urging me to hurry.

I reasoned that he made a fair point and quickly trailed after him.

Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Logan and I stepped into The Board’s Mediation Office. Sitting a short distance away was a worn-looking, middle-aged woman dressed in plain clothes. A simmering fury was clearly visible on her face.

It didn't take a genius to figure out she was the patient's wife.

Dr. Logan immediately approached her, slapping on an expression of deep sincerity. "Ma'am, look, I brought the intern over to formally apologize to you."

He shot me a pointed look. Catching his drift, I hurried over to introduce myself.

The woman just glared at me viciously, her lips sealed shut.

I tried to empathize with her anxiety, speaking with rehearsed patience. "Ma'am, please take a deep breath. We completely understand how worried you are about your husband. The truth is, after an intubation like this, it's very common to experience side effects like a hoarse voice, but you don't need to—"

"Not this same script again!" The woman suddenly cut me off, her voice spiking an octave. She looked frantically around the room. "You people have absolutely no intention of giving me real answers!"

Seeing her lose control, I kept trying to soothe her. "Ma'am, please don't get agitated. There is a standard recovery period after anesthesia, and if you just give it a little time—"

Before I could finish my sentence, a loud splash drowned out my voice. The next thing I knew, my face and neck were dripping wet. I glanced down to see several wet tea leaves clinging to my pristine white coat.

It finally clicked that she had just hurled a cup of tea right at my face.

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