All around her stood physicians, nurses, orderlies, and technicians she had personally trained. Some stared at the floor. Others pretended to study the monitors beside their patients.
Eleanor Whitaker, Marcus’s mother, observed the scene from the ICU doorway with a smile she was barely attempting to hide.
Next to her stood Sabrina Collins, a recently hired nurse who had spent the last several months appearing beside Marcus at executive meetings, expensive dinners, and social events that had nothing to do with hospital work.
“Perhaps now we can finally bring this department into the modern world,” Sabrina said. “Some people have been here so long that they’ve started believing the hospital cannot function without them.”
At that moment, Claire finally understood.
This was not a decision Marcus had made in anger.
The humiliation had been planned.
Marcus crossed his arms.
“Security will walk you out.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Claire replied quietly.
She bent down, picked up the badge, and placed it inside her pocket.
She did not cry.
She collected her coat, passed the patients she had cared for through countless overnight shifts, and walked toward the elevator.
An elderly patient reached toward her as she passed.
“Nurse Claire…”
