Doctor Daddy (Dark Daddies 2)

Jackie shrugs. “She didn’t say, but she didn’t look happy.”

“Think it’s about…?”

She shrugs again, but looks worried. “You should probably go find out.”

I sigh and nod. There go my rounds, at least for now. Looks like a later night than usual.* * *Liza’s office is on the first floor tucked in a back corner. There are plenty of signs showing people the way, but I think she chose this spot just to be a little hidden.

Not that I can blame her. The director of medicine has all the responsibilities of running a hospital along with all the liabilities. She’s the first line of defense and the final decider in all things hospital policy.

She’s hardly a doctor anymore. She spends all her time in this office dealing with all the bureaucratic bullshit none of us want to deal with.

Billing, lawsuits, the fucking government. She spends her days working through it all. Everyone knows the healthcare system in America is broken, and it’s Liza’s job to deal with that broken system.

I hate anything involving the insurance companies or even the hospital board. They slow things down, worry about money, and ultimate they cost people their lives. We’d be a lot better off if insurance companies and big pharma companies were less fucking greedy, and we switched to something like single payer…

But whatever. I’m not political. I just save lives. That’s my ultimate goal, and it should be the goal of any healthcare system.

Money shouldn’t be involved.

I knock on Liza’s door, and unfortunately, she answers. Working late, like always.

I push it open and step inside. She looks up with a frown.

“You were looking for me,” I say.

“Hi, Aiden. Take a seat.”

I shut the door behind me, but linger there, not sitting. “What’s this about? I want to make rounds.”

“I know, it’ll just be a second.” She glances down at a paper in front of her and signs it. “Please, sit.”

I sigh and sit.

Liza looks at me and absently twirls her pen. It’s what she does when she’s nervous.

“I cut you a lot of slack, Aiden,” she says.

“I’ve heard this speech before.”

“And yet I keep needing to make it.”

“I’m not sure you do.”

She shakes her head. “Listen to me, Aiden. You need to start playing by the rules, at least a little bit.”

“I play by the rules plenty and you know it.”

She sighs. “What’s this I hear about a relationship with a patient?”

I wince. I knew it was going to be about this. “She’s not a patient.”

“What is she then?”

I hesitate. “Granddaughter of a patient.”

She groans. “Not much better and you know it.”

“There’s a distinction.”

“Legally, maybe. Ethically?”

“Nothing ethically wrong with it.”

“Come on, Aiden. Even you know why we have these rules.”

I look away. I know she’s right, but I also know it isn’t an issue.

“When it comes to a lawsuit,” she says softly, “it’ll look bad.”

“When was the last time I was sued?”

“You don’t get sued often,” she allows. “But it does happen.”

“Twice in my career,” I say. “For someone practicing as long as I have, that’s a damn miracle.”

“Considering the way you act around your patients, you’re right, it is.”

“Look, it’s not a problem. Her grandmother will be fine soon. The conflict will resolve itself.”

“I hope so,” she says. “I’m tired of letting you cut corners.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really now?”

“Really,” she says.

“Strange, you’ve never mentioned this before.”

“I’ve never needed to.”

I crossed my arms. “I have one relationship that you don’t approve of—”

“An unethical one—”

“That doesn’t break any rules,” I say clearly, “and suddenly you have an issue with letting me save lives the way I want to save them?”

She groans, clicking her pen now. “It always comes back to that.”

“Of course it does. That’s what we do. We’re doctors. Or maybe you forgot.”

She glares at me. “I know what you think of what I do, but it’s important. You want this hospital to exist for these people? Someone has to do what I do.”

I shrug. “Fine. Don’t let it affect me.” I stand to go.

“Stop seeing her,” Liza says quietly.

I turn back. “Excuse me?”

“Stop seeing her, Aiden. I’m serious this time.”

“Or what? You’ll discipline me?”

“This isn’t a joke. The board’s been looking for a reason to get rid of you for a long time, and this might be it. Don’t be stupid.”

I glare at her, bristling with anger. What the hell does she know about being stupid?

Those idiot board members don’t know a thing about me. All they hear are the complaints, but they don’t see all the lives I save. They don’t see all the people I bring to this hospital purely on my reputation.

They sit in their board room, divorced from the reality of running this place, and make their stupid decisions.

I despise the board. And I won’t be cowed by them.

“Good luck,” I say, and leave her office.

I feel fucking dirty as I head back upstairs to do my rounds. I hate being subjected to that bullshit. Frankly, I hate that anyone has to be subjected to it.