Chapter 118
Chapter 118:
“I’m just a doctor,” he protested, raising his voice. “VitaLink hired me. I don’t know anything about what the Wilde family’s doing! Why are you taking me p>
“Answer our questions and you’ll be fine. If you’ve done nothing wrong, you have nothing to worry about p>
Leland turned to Rylie, panic rising. “My sister and I are supposed to help treat Mr. Brad Morgan p>
“I’ll manage without you,” Rylie said, her voice flat. “Maybe you should start thinking about your own mistakes p>
Her face didn’t change. She looked as if everything that had happened had gone exactly as she planned.
In a room full of experts, Rylie had dragged the Wilde family’s secrets into the light — and brought both them and VitaLink Hospital crashing down.
Leland’s chest tightened with regret. He’d known that things weren’t right. He’d seen mismatches between the diagnoses and the operations he performed. The hospital had been cutting corners — and worse — but he said nothing. Now, he was being taken too.
Once he was gone, silence finally settled over the hall. No one spoke. The fear lingered. If the Wildes had gone down, who else might fall with them?
Then someone broke the quiet. “Check your phones!” a voice called out.
No one saw it coming, but in the blink of an eye, every phone in the hall buzzed to life. Electronic billboards across Crolens — once silent or looping dull ads — suddenly lit up with the exact same video.
Onscreen, a nervous middle-aged woman, hands shaking, held out a sheaf of medical documents. “Dr. Wilde, does my son really need imported drugs? Aren’t the local ones good enough p>
The scene cut to Marsha’s sharp profile. She didn’t bother to hide her annoyance, cutting the woman off. “If you’re strapped for cash, why show up at all?” With a flick of her wrist, the report landed on the table. “The imported drug is far more effective than the local ones. If you truly love your son, shouldn’t your priority be saving his life p>
A dull thud echoed as the woman collapsed to her knees, her voice breaking. “Dr. Wilde, I’m begging you, please! I really can’t afford the imported drug p>
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Marsha’s patience snapped. She rose to her feet, slamming the table and sending her heels clattering across the tile. “If you’re going to beg, do it outside. Don’t waste time on real patients!” Her glare shot to the nurse. “Next p>
Security stepped in, dragging the woman away as her desperate cry echoed through the lobby. “My son — he’s only sixteen p>
Abruptly, the video cut off — only to fade back in with a different scene. This time, a nervous young intern approached Evita, medical file in hand. “Dr. Wilde, this woman just has a benign tumor. Surgery should be enough. There’s no need to risk her life with so much chemotherapy before p>
Evita’s response was brutal. She hurled the report in his face. “Who runs this hospital, you or me? If I don’t squeeze every penny out of the patients, how do I keep dead weight like you on payroll p>
The camera followed as the intern was forced out, humiliated and injured. In a later interview, his voice hoarse with bitterness, he recounted the aftermath. “I performed surgery with Dr. Kirk. He kept quiet even though he had connections — he was safe. But the rest of us? VitaLink ruined my hands for speaking up. Now I’ll never touch a scalpel again. People call this the Wildes’ hospital, but it’s just a slaughterhouse feeding on sick people’s misery p>