He continued to stand there and stare me down, like he expected me to do something. Apologize.
Never going to happen.
“Collaboration is a key part of this process. You never would have figured this out without me, so I hope this is a lesson to you.”
“A lesson?” I asked incredulously. “You talk about collaboration. Let’s collaborate right now.”
An eyebrow raised. “There’s nothing to collaborate on—”
“Oh, I disagree.” I snapped my fingers. “Sit.”
“Say what you need to say. I have shit to do.”
I rose to my feet. “I spoke to Dr. Madurri myself. Yes, the patient tests positive for it, but it doesn’t explain all her symptoms. Some of them don’t fit.”
“There’s no diagnosis that fits every single symptom. Some things are unexplained because they’re unique to the patient.”
“But I think we’re missing something more here. How do we explain the numbness in her legs? How do we explain the changes in her vision?”
“Blood pressure affects the optic nerve. Looking at the back of the eye is a good indicator of the overall health of the patient, so it’s no surprise that this illness has compromised her vision.”
“I think it’s more than that—”
“And I think you can’t admit you’re wrong. You’re so arrogant that you can’t just admit that I figured it out and you never would have. Your priority is preserving your ego, not the patient, which is unacceptable. Get over yourself.”
I didn’t fire back, which was a first.
I just stared, feeling my features tighten into stoicism.
He stilled, like that caught him off guard.
“That is the most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me.” I spoke calmly, which somehow made me feel angrier. “My life is dedicated to others, just as every member of my family has dedicated their lives to other people. To accuse me of caring about myself more than my patient…is disgusting. Yes, you were right about this. But no, I wouldn’t have not figured it out. It just would have taken me a lot longer. But I stand by what I said. There is something else going on with her. We found part one. Now we need to find part two.”
He shook his head, visibly frustrated. “If you want to waste your time finding something that isn’t there, I can’t stop you. But we will begin treatment for this patient so she can have a normal life again, something that’s been denied to her for far longer than it should have been—because of your incompetency.”
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped into the lobby of the practice. The workday was over, so there weren’t patients on the couch. Just Riley, taking a nap in the sunlight coming in through the window.
Sicily was on the phone, so I waved to her as I headed to Dex’s office in the rear.
He was sitting behind his desk, finishing up his paperwork to submit to the surgery centers. He looked up at the sight of me, a smile immediately moving on to his face even though he claimed I was nothing but a pain in the ass. “Hey, what brings you by?”
I fell onto the couch and set my bag aside. “I hate my boss.”
“I think everyone hates their boss.”
“Well, then you’re in deep shit because your wife hates you.”
He chuckled as he closed down his computer. “She may hate me during the day, but she sure as hell doesn’t hate me at night…”
I cringed. “TMI, man.”
He joined me on the couch, sitting across from me. “Mom mentioned you were having a hard time with the new director of your clinic. He works with Dad or something?”
“Yes. And I have no idea why Dad wrote him such a nice letter of rec. Like, why?”
“He said he’s one of the most brilliant people he’s ever met.”
I rolled my eyes. “A title he doesn’t deserve.”
“So, what exactly is the problem?”
“We just don’t get along. Instead of treating me like a colleague, he treats me like a subordinate.”
“Didn’t Dylan do that?”
“No. Not really. He respected all of us. He managed the big-picture stuff while we focused on patients. It was never boss-employee. But this guy comes in and just starts bossing me around, rudely, and then he breaks down my patient’s cases and tells me he’s got it figured out, when I don’t think he has the full story.”
“Then what is the full story?”
I told him the patient’s situation and the recent lab results.
“Maybe that is the diagnosis. Treat her and see if those other symptoms go away.”
“They won’t.”
“Well, I don’t have any ideas. At least not from a heart perspective. Maybe ask Dad.”
“No.” The answer shot out immediately.
“Why not?”
“I just…I don’t want his help.”
Dex studied me for a while, his gaze turning serious. “It’s not a competition, Daisy.”
“Never said it was.”
“Then why won’t you include Dad?”
“Because if I do, he might tell Atlas, and then Atlas will know I didn’t figure it out myself.”