Chapter 3 - The Deposition of Lies
Two weeks later, the grand conference room on the top floor of St. Jude’s Memorial was filled with uncomfortable tension.
The long mahogany table was surrounded by the hospital's executive board, the Chief of Surgery, legal representatives, and risk management officers. At the head of the table sat Dr. Amelia Grant.
I wore a sharp, tailored navy suit that masked the thick bandages wrapped around my abdomen. My posture was perfectly rigid, my hair pulled back into a sleek bun. I looked like the Chief of Emergency Medicine again, not a woman who had almost bled to death on an operating table fourteen days ago.
Across from me sat Cameron and Sophie.
Cameron looked terrible. He had lost weight, his expensive suit hung loosely on his shoulders, and dark circles hollowed out his eyes. Sophie, sitting next to him, looked equally terrified, clutching a notepad with trembling fingers.
"This informal hearing is now in order," announced Board Chairman Arthur Pendelton, tapping his pen on the table. "We are here to investigate the events of June 14th regarding the delivery of Alexander Grant-Bennett, the conduct of Dr. Cameron Bennett, and the allegations of gross negligence and assault."
"Mr. Chairman," Cameron’s attorney spoke up quickly. "My client acted within his professional judgment during a highly stressful, non-standard delivery. Dr. Grant was combative, distressed, and interfering with medical procedures—"
"I was dying," I interrupted smoothly, my voice calm, precise, and cutting through the air like a scalpel.
"Amelia, please," Cameron pleaded, reaching across the table toward me. "Can we talk about this privately? This is our family—"
"You do not speak to me unless spoken to, Dr. Bennett," I snapped, my eyes locking onto his with an icy intensity that made him pull his hand back as if burned. "You are not my husband in this room. You are an attending physician under investigation for attempted manslaughter."
A collective gasp echoed around the room.
"That is a sensationalist accusation!" Cameron's lawyer shouted.
"Is it?" I asked calmly, opening a thick leather folder in front of me. "Let us review the medical records. At 21:15 hours, my fetal heart rate monitor showed prolonged late decelerations. My ultrasound prior to labor indicated a macrosemic infant estimated at ten pounds, two ounces. According to St. Jude’s protocol—protocol authored by Dr. Bennett himself—a patient with these risk factors presenting with severe uterine pain requires an immediate surgical evaluation."
I looked directly at Cameron. "Instead, you ordered my epidural to be turned off. Why?"
Cameron swallowed hard, sweating under the bright recessed lights. "You... you were hysterical. You knocked over Intern Sophie’s medication tray, exposing sterile instruments to contamination—"
"Let's talk about that tray," I cut in, turning my gaze slowly toward Sophie.
The young intern stiffened, her face draining of all color.
"Intern Sophie," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You testified in your preliminary statement that I deliberately struck your arm and kicked over your tray out of spite. Is that correct?"
"Y-yes, Dr. Grant," Sophie squeaked, squeezing her eyes shut for a second. "You were angry because Dr. Bennett was giving me instructions..."
"Fascinating," I replied, pulling a glossy eight-by-ten photograph from my folder and sliding it across the polished table toward Chairman Pendelton. "This is a high-resolution photograph of my left forearm, taken by the forensic team three hours after I was stabilized in Trauma."
The board members leaned in to look at the photo. It clearly showed four deep, dark purple puncture marks and curved bloody lacerations on the delicate skin of my inner arm.
"Those are human nail marks," I stated coldly. "Deep enough to draw arterial blood. They match the exact claw-like grip of someone standing over a bed, pressing down with maximum pressure."
I turned my eyes back to Sophie, whose lip was beginning to quiver. "Sophie, would you mind placing your hands flat on the table, please?"
"I... I don't see how this is relevant—" her attorney began.
"Put your hands on the table!" Chairman Pendelton ordered sharply, his eyes fixed on the forensic photograph.
Trembling, Sophie placed her hands on the mahogany surface. Her nails were manicured, long, and shaped into distinct, sharp almond points.
"Nurse Sarah has already submitted a signed affidavit," I continued, sliding another document forward. "She witnessed Intern Sophie leaning over my head moments before the tray fell. She saw Sophie dig her nails into my arm until I reflexively jerked away in agony. The tray was knocked over by my involuntary muscle spasm caused by assault—not by anger."
"That's a lie!" Sophie sobbed, breaking down into hysterical tears. "I didn't mean to! I was just trying to hold her down! Dr. Bennett told me to keep her quiet!"
"Sophie, shut up!" Cameron roared, slamming his hand on the table as he glared at her in horror.
"No, Cameron, you shut up!" Sophie screamed back, her composure completely shattering under the pressure. "You told me if I backed up your story, you'd guarantee my residency placement at Johns Hopkins! You told me she was crazy! You said she was trying to ruin your career because she was jealous of us!"
The conference room descended into utter silence.
The board members looked at Cameron with absolute disgust. Chairman Pendelton leaned back in his leather chair, shaking his head slowly.
"You traded your wife's safety and the life of your unborn child to cover up an affair with an intern?" Pendelton asked, his voice dripping with venom.
"It wasn't an affair!" Cameron stammered, his eyes darting frantically around the room, finding no allies. "It was... it was a mistake! Amelia, listen to me! I was stressed, I was overwhelmed—"
"Save it for the Medical Board, Cameron," I said quietly, standing up from my chair with graceful, unhurried dignity. "And for the family court judge."
I picked up my briefcase, looking down at the broken man who had once been my husband.
"Effective immediately, I have revoked your access to our son, Alexander," I declared softly. "The locks on our home have been changed. Your personal belongings are currently sitting in trash bags outside the emergency department loading dock. If you step foot on my property, or near my child, you will be arrested."
May you like
I turned toward the door, stopping just before I reached the handle to look back over my shoulder.
"Oh, and Cameron? The Chief of Surgery position you were angling for? I accepted it this morning."
