33. Cole
33
COLE
I walked as slowly as Rose needed me to as we moved toward the conference room on the sixth floor. Rose had been released from the hospital yesterday to recover, but the twins were still here, admitted in the neonatal unit. I wished she'd have stayed with me, but she chose to bunk with Alana, her former roommate, and her mother was holed up in a hotel for the time being. They wanted to refuse my help, but I gave the hotel my credit card and ordered that they charge everything to me for Rose's mother.
Today, I was on my way to hear my judgment. After confessing to everything that had been going on, I was nervous that today's pronouncement would be a disaster. I assumed they would terminate me or I'd be relegated to education, or something worse. I did have an offer from the University of Colorado's medical department to act as a professor of anatomy, which didn't disinterest me, but the pay was less than half of what I made now.
Rose had been supportive from the instant we reunited. Her reassurance and affection were exactly what I needed to keep my spirits high over the past week while Victor and the board decided my fate. Today was when I'd learn what they had decided.
"You're scared?" she asked, and as macho and strong as I wanted to be, I couldn’t. Any man who faced this uncertainty with a family to care for—children who depended on him—would feel the same.
"Nervous," I told her, but terror was a better word. There was no greater fear I had in life than the ones I loved suffering or my losing them. My future was uncertain, and that fear of the unknown threatened to cripple me.
"It's going to be okay no matter what they say." She patted my arm, but I should have been the one cheering for her. She'd just gone through a major surgery eight days ago and our children were so weak right now. She had so much courage and strength, it amazed me.
I sucked in a breath and breathed out a sigh, trying to get the tension in my shoulders to abate, but I was just too nervous.
The week had been the longest of my life. Every passing day felt like another turn of the screw, tightening the knot of uncertainty in my chest. Rose had been my rock, her quiet strength keeping me grounded even when my own nerves threatened to unravel me. Now, as I stood outside the boardroom, my stomach churned with a mix of dread and cautious hope.
Rose sat nearby, her hands folded in her lap, looking as calm as ever. But I knew her well enough to recognize the slight tension in her jaw, the faint tremble in her fingers. She was nervous too, though she’d never let it show. She gave me a small smile, the kind that always seemed to steady me when nothing else could.
“You’ve got this,” she said softly.
I nodded, even though I didn’t believe it. My palms were damp, and my heart was hammering against my ribs. “I hope you’re right.”
Before I could second-guess myself, the door opened and Victor Ronald stepped out. The dean of medicine had always been an imposing figure, but today, his expression was unreadable. “Cole,” he said, gesturing me in.
I glanced back at Rose, who mouthed, It’s going to be okay . Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and followed Victor inside.
The boardroom was cold, both in temperature and atmosphere. Around the table sat members of the board, ethics committee representatives, and Victor himself. Their faces were serious, their postures stiff. A thick file sat in front of the chairman, its weight a physical manifestation of my mistakes.
“Dr. Hastings,” the chairman began, his voice grave. “Thank you for joining us.”
“Thank you for seeing me,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.
Victor spoke next, his tone measured but not unkind. “We’ve reviewed your case thoroughly, Dr. Hastings. Your actions—both the concealment of your illness and your personal relationship—were serious breaches of protocol. These actions have repercussions not just for you, but for the integrity of the institution.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “I understand.”
The chairman leaned forward, his gaze intense. “You took a significant risk by hiding your condition, Dr. Hastings. A surgeon operating under those circumstances is a liability—not just to themselves but to their patients, their colleagues, and the hospital’s reputation. And your decision to keep your relationship with Ms. Williams hidden only compounded the problem. Transparency is not optional in a field like ours.”
“I understand,” I repeated, my voice quieter. “And I deeply regret those choices. I was wrong.”
Victor’s expression softened slightly. “It takes courage to admit that, Cole. And your willingness to come forward, to confess and cooperate fully during this process, speaks volumes. It shows integrity, even in the face of your mistakes.”
A beat of silence passed, the tension thick enough to cut. My heart raced as I braced for the worst.
The chairman exchanged a glance with Victor before continuing. “The board has decided that we do not want to lose you, Dr. Hastings. Your skill, dedication, and contributions to this hospital are undeniable. However, we cannot allow you to continue as a practicing surgeon under these circumstances.”
My stomach dropped. “I—” I started, but the chairman held up a hand.
“Let me finish,” he said firmly. “We are offering you the position of surgical chair. This role will involve overseeing operations, consulting on difficult cases, and teaching residents and junior surgeons. You will no longer perform surgeries, but your expertise will guide those who do.”
The words took a moment to sink in. Surgical chair. Not termination. Not relegation to education without purpose. It was a promotion—a chance to lead, to teach, to shape the next generation of surgeons. I hadn’t even dared to dream of something like this.
Victor’s voice broke through my stunned silence. “We believe in you, Dr. Hastings. This position reflects not just your skill but our confidence in your ability to move forward from this and continue to contribute meaningfully to the hospital.”
My throat tightened as a wave of relief and gratitude washed over me. “Thank you,” I said, my voice rough. “I… I don’t know what to say.”
The chairman leaned back, his expression still serious. “Say you’ll learn from this, Dr. Hastings. Say you’ll never put yourself or this institution in this position again.”
“I promise,” I said quickly, meaning every word. “I’ll do everything in my power to earn this trust.”
Victor nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Good. We’re counting on you.”
The chairman continued, outlining my new responsibilities as surgical chair—oversight of the department, pay that matched the gravity of the role, and a clear expectation to uphold the highest ethical standards. The words swirled around me, but my mind was already racing ahead. Relief blossomed into quiet joy as I thought of what this meant for my newborn twins—stability, security, a father who hadn’t lost everything. And for Rose, this was a chance to rebuild trust, to prove to her that I could rise above my mistakes and be the partner she deserved. For the first time in weeks, hope felt real.
As I stepped out of the boardroom, the weight I’d been carrying for weeks lifted. The hallway seemed brighter, the air lighter, every step feeling like a new beginning. Rose stood up from the bench where she’d been waiting, her eyes scanning my face for the answer she so clearly hoped for.
“They’re keeping me,” I said, the words escaping on a shaky breath. “They’ve made me surgical chair.”
For a moment, her face was unreadable, then it broke into the most beautiful smile. “Cole, that’s amazing!” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I didn’t see it coming,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair. “They believe in me, Rose. After everything… they still believe in me.”
Her hand hovered near mine before she pulled back, a flicker of restraint reminding us where we were. But the love in her eyes was unmistakable. “Because you deserve it. You’ve worked for this, Cole, and no one can take that from you.”
I couldn't contain my overwhelming feelings of relief and gratitude any longer. "Rose," I said in a hushed tone, "I can't bear to be away from you any longer. Let's move in together, with the twins. Let's truly be a family."
She took a sharp breath, but her radiant smile stayed firmly in place. "Yes," she replied simply. "I would love that."
The past was finally behind us and our future together was brighter than ever. I couldn't help but feel like the world had finally righted itself. And as we left the hospital together, hand in hand, it felt like we were walking into a new chapter of our lives.