Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Xavier
I wake to the insistent buzz of my phone.
Groaning, I fumble for it on the nightstand, squinting at the screen.
It’s the hospital administrator. I consider ignoring it, letting it go to voicemail.
After everything that’s happened—the shooting, the Reapers, finding safety in Zach’s arms—I really don’t want to go into work today.
“Who is it?” Zach mumbles beside me, his voice rough with sleep.
“Hospital,” I sigh, thumb hovering over the answer button. “I should take it.”
He nods, pulling me closer for a moment before releasing me. I answer the call, keeping my voice professional despite my reluctance.
“Dr. Blane speaking.”
“Xavier, it’s Patricia from administration. I need you to come in as soon as possible.” Her tone is clipped, formal in a way that immediately puts me on edge.
“Is there an emergency?” I ask, already calculating how quickly I can get dressed and to the hospital.
“Not a medical one. This is… administrative. Just come to my office when you arrive.” She hangs up before I can ask for further details.
I stare at the phone, unease settling in my stomach. “That was weird.”
Zach sits up, instantly alert. “What did they say?”
“Just that I need to come in. Something administrative.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, already mentally cataloging where my clothes ended up last night. “Probably paperwork from the shooting incident.”
Zach’s expression darkens. “I don’t like it. Let me come with you.”
“To an administrative meeting?” I smile, trying to lighten the mood. “I think I can handle hospital bureaucracy on my own.”
He doesn’t return my smile. “After everything that’s happened…”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. “The hospital has increased security, and this is just a meeting in an office.”
Reluctantly, he nods. “Call me when you’re done. I’ll pick you up.”
An hour later, I’m walking through the hospital’s main entrance, nodding to the new security guards stationed at the doors. The atmosphere is different, tenser, more alert, but the familiar bustle of medical staff and patients continues regardless.
I make my way to the administrative wing, greeting colleagues as I pass. A few give me strange looks, their smiles not quite reaching their eyes. By the time I reach Patricia’s office, the unease in my stomach has grown into something more substantial.
Patricia’s assistant waves me straight in without the usual pleasantries. Inside, I find not just Patricia, but the hospital’s legal counsel and the head of HR seated around the conference table. My heart sinks.
“Dr. Blane.” Patricia gestures to an empty chair. “Please sit.”
I take the seat, keeping my expression neutral despite the alarm bells ringing in my head. “What’s this about?”
Patricia slides a folder across the table. “We’ve received a formal complaint against you. A very serious one.”
I open the folder to find a detailed report, Alex’s name prominent at the top. My blood runs cold as I scan the contents: allegations that I cornered her in the supply closet, made unwanted advances, became physically aggressive when rejected.
“This is completely false,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “If anything, she was the one who—”
“She has witnesses,” the legal counsel interrupts. “Three staff members who saw you follow her into the supply closet. One who heard you raise your voice.”
“That’s because I was rejecting her advances,” I explain, anger beginning to override shock. “She’s completely twisted what happened.”
Patricia’s expression remains impassive. “She also has photographic evidence of bruising on her wrist where she claims you grabbed her.”
I stare at them, disbelief warring with growing horror. “I removed her hand from my body when she grabbed me inappropriately. If anyone was assaulted, it was me.”
“Dr. Blane,” the HR director speaks now, her voice gentle but firm, “given the seriousness of these allegations and the… complications of your personal associations, we believe it’s in everyone’s best interest if you leave immediately.”
“My personal associations?” I repeat, cold realization dawning. “You mean Zach.”
Patricia shifts uncomfortably. “There have been concerns about your relationship with a known member of the Devil Souls MC, especially in light of the recent violence at this hospital.”
“Violence I helped stop,” I remind her, anger building. “Patients I saved.”
“Nevertheless,” the legal counsel interjects, “the hospital must protect its reputation. Ms. Donovan has threatened to go public with her allegations if we don’t take immediate action.”
“So you’re suspending me based on false accusations because you’re afraid of bad press?” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice.
Patricia slides another document toward me. “Not suspending. I’m afraid we’re terminating your employment, effective immediately.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. “You’re firing me? Without even investigating?”
“The terms of separation are generous,” she continues as if I haven’t spoken. “Six months’ severance, continued health benefits, and a neutral reference for future employment provided you sign this nondisclosure agreement.”
I stare at the document, unable to process what’s happening. Years of dedication, of saving lives, of building my career at this hospital gone in an instant because of a lie.
“This is wrong,” I say, standing so abruptly my chair scrapes harshly against the floor. “You know me. You know my work. How can you possibly believe I would do something like this?”
The HR director won’t meet my eyes. “We’re not making a judgment about the truth of the allegations, Xavier. We’re simply following protocol for cases involving potential sexual harassment.”
“By firing me before investigating it? That’s protocol?” I laugh, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “At least have the decency to admit this is about Zach, not Alex’s accusations.”
Patricia’s expression hardens. “You have until the end of the day to clear out your locker and return your hospital ID. Security will escort you.”
I leave the folder on the table, too disgusted to touch it again. “I won’t sign your NDA. And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
The walk to the doctors’ lounge feels endless, the eyes of colleagues following me as word spreads with the lightning speed of hospital gossip. By the time I reach my locker, my hands are shaking with a combination of rage and humiliation.
I’ve just started emptying my belongings into a spare bag when Marissa appears at my side, her expression concerned.
“Tell me it’s not true,” she says without preamble.
“It’s not true,” I reply, continuing to pack. “Alex made the whole thing up.”
“I knew it,” she hisses, anger flashing in her eyes. “That bitch has been obsessed with ‘converting’ gay men for years. She tried the same thing with my brother.”
I pause, looking at her directly. “Would you be willing to say that officially? To HR?”
“Absolutely.” She nods firmly. “I’ve already filed a complaint about her inappropriate comments before. They have it on record.”
A small flicker of hope ignites in my chest. “Thank you.”
“So, what are you going to do?” she asks, helping me gather the rest of my things.
I zip the bag closed, my resolve hardening. “Fight this. Get a lawyer. Clear my name.”
What I don’t say is that my first call will be to Zach. Because while I believe in legal processes and proper channels, I also know that sometimes justice needs a little help.
Security meets me at the entrance to the doctors’ lounge, two guards I don’t recognize. Their expressions are apologetic but firm as they escort me through the halls I’ve walked countless times before. Colleagues watch with mixtures of confusion, sympathy, and, most painfully, doubt.
Outside, I step into the bright morning sunlight, blinking against its harsh glare. My career, my reputation, everything I’ve worked for all hanging by a thread because of one person’s vindictive lie.
I pull out my phone, my thumb hovering over Zach’s number. Part of me, the rational, law-abiding doctor, knows I should call a lawyer first. But another part, the part that’s learned how the world really works these past few days, wants Zach’s particular brand of justice.
Before I can decide, a motorcycle roars into the parking lot, the familiar black bike with skull detailing that I’d recognize anywhere. Zach pulls up beside me, removing his helmet with a single fluid motion. One look at my face tells him everything he needs to know.
“What happened?” he demands, eyes already scanning the hospital entrance as if identifying threats.
“Alex filed a sexual harassment complaint against me,” I say, the words still surreal as they leave my mouth. “Claimed I assaulted her. They fired me on the spot.”
His expression darkens dangerously, jaw clenching so tight I can see the muscle jump beneath his skin. “She did what?”
“She flipped everything that happened. Made it sound like I was the aggressor.” I run a hand through my hair, the full impact of the situation finally hitting me. “My career, Zach. My reputation. Everything I’ve worked for…”
He’s off the bike in an instant, pulling me against his chest. I let myself collapse into his embrace, the solid warmth of him anchoring me when everything else feels like it’s spinning out of control.
“We’ll fix this,” he promises, voice low and deadly serious. “No one messes with what’s mine.”
I should probably object to the possessiveness, should insist on handling this through proper channels. But right now, with my world crumbling around me, there’s something intensely comforting about having someone willing to fight for me with such fierce certainty.
“I need a lawyer,” I say against his chest.
“Already on it,” he replies, and I pull back to look at him in surprise. “He’s meeting us at the clubhouse in an hour.”
His response momentarily stuns me. “How did you…”