No Cure For Your Arrogance Chapter 2

I felt a cold, sharp clarity settle over me. I dialed back.

The manager picked up, sounding even more annoyed. "What now? Figure out how to charter a private jet on your own dime?"

"Don't bother with the jet," I said, my voice as flat as a heartline. "If you want to know why I missed that flight, ask the purser on Miss Sampson’s plane."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you’re looking for a savior in the wrong place."

I hung up. I opened my banking app, found the three-million-dollar "good faith" deposit the Sampsons had sent, and hit Refund.

In the memo line, I typed four words: Find someone else. Good luck.

Three million might be life-changing money for most, but it wasn't enough to buy back my dignity. I blocked every number associated with the family.

I looked down at the crushed powder on the pavement—the medicine that was supposed to keep Madeline Sampson’s heart beating. I felt a grim smile touch my lips.

Madeline, you’re on your own.

I hailed a cab and went straight back to my private practice. I hadn't even sat down before my desk phone started screaming. It was the Chief of Medicine at the hospital where I held my surgical privileges.

"Dr. West! What in God’s name are you doing?" he roared. "The Sampsons just called. They said you started a riot at the airport and tried to physically assault Miss Madeline! They said a purser had to intervene to protect her!"

The purser’s lies were traveling fast. To cover up a routine overbooking error, he’d painted me as a violent lunatic. And the Sampsons, in their infinite arrogance, had swallowed it whole without checking a single fact.

"Mrs. Sampson Senior is demanding you get on a plane to San Francisco right now to apologize on your knees and start the surgery! If you don't go, consider your license revoked!"

I didn't argue. I pulled a piece of stationery from my drawer and wrote a single sentence. Then I walked upstairs to his office.

Thud.

I slapped my resignation on his desk.

"You don't have to fire me. I quit."

The Chief stared at the paper, his mouth agape. "You’re insane. You think quitting protects you from them?"

I leaned over his desk, looming over him. "I’m tired, Bill. I think I’ll take a long vacation. If the Sampsons want to try and 'blacklist' me, tell them to join the line. I’m done."

I turned and walked out.

"Get back here! West!"

I didn't look back. I knew the clock. Madeline’s condition relied entirely on the serum I’d developed. Without it, the flight at thirty thousand feet would put too much pressure on her vascular system.

The symptoms should be starting right about... now.