8. Seamus
eight
Seamus
The Same Day
Sarah Mahoney doesn’t smile. Doesn’t blink.
She asked for coffee, but I don’t think she tastes it.
She has no time for charm. No space for mistakes.
The woman’s a shark. Exactly what I need. Even if I hate needing it.
I knew it in the first five minutes of our initial meeting and I believe it even more now, sitting across from her in a sleek downtown office, my fingers wrapped around my own cup of coffee I haven’t touched.
She’s direct, sharp-eyed, and doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. Which is good, because I don’t have time for them either.
Sarah leans forward, her eyes sharp. “Walk me through it. From the moment you entered the OR to the second it went wrong.”
I exhale, running a hand through my hair, which is way too long. “We were removing Miranda’s tumors with the laser. Caldwell was leading, I was assisting, everything was going to plan—until I saw the blood vessel.”
“And?” She motions with her finger to keep going.
I press my palms against my knees. “I hesitated. Something felt off. I tried to slow down, to warn him.” My throat constricts. “He kept going.”
“Did you explicitly tell him to stop?” Sarah nods, her voice even.
“I said, ‘Dr. Caldwell—’” I hesitate, trying to remember exactly what happened. “He said, ‘I see it. Keep going.’”
She shakes her head in disgust. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” I nod.
Sarah slams her laptop shut. “That moment is everything, Seamus. Caldwell overrode you. He dismissed a clear concern. This isn’t your mistake.”
I rub my eyes with my fists, the memory playing over again. The flicker of doubt. The push forward. The catastrophe. Does it really matter whose fault it is? Miranda’s the one who’s paying the price.
Sarah watches me. “When Marcella Delgado asks you about it tomorrow, don’t hedge. Don’t guess. Just tell the truth exactly like you told me.”
I let out a slow breath, meeting her gaze.
There’s one problem. The truth might not save me.
Not if it buries Caldwell, my mentor. The man who controls my future in neurosurgery.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah’s gaze is unyielding. “You’re hesitating.”
I grip the arms of my chair, my pulse hammering. “It’s not so simple.”
“It is simple.” She’s deceptively calm. “ Seamus . You saw the warning signs. You hesitated for a reason. Caldwell ignored you.”
I look out the window. All of this is moving so fast.
She exhales. “What if I told you you’re not the first?”
The revelation causes me to snap my gaze back to her.
“Caldwell has done this before. Twice. Two other residents.” She shoves a couple of files toward me. “Two other cases. Same story. They trusted him and stayed quiet. Then paid the price. Their careers suffered. Their patients suffered.”
My stomach twists.
Sarah clamps a hand on my wrist. “If you don’t speak up now, Seamus, you’re not protecting Caldwell. You’re letting this happen again.”
Staring down at the files, I know she’s right. The question is—am I ready to break the pattern?
“Both settled out of court. No trial, no testimony. The matters were quietly wrapped up once Caldwell made it very clear the complications weren’t on him.” She lets go of my wrist and waits.
I bury my face in my hands. This is too much. “Do you think he’s doing the same to me?”
“I don’t think, Seamus. I know.” She flips through the files. “I talked to both of them. You need to read these.”
I hesitate, then pick up the first file.
Case One: Dr. Matthew Lee, Third-Year Neurosurgery Resident.
Fifteen years ago, Lee assisted Caldwell in a high-risk spinal tumor resection. From what Sarah dug up, he had the same kind of mentorship with Caldwell I do— did . He looked up to him. Trusted him implicitly.
Until things went wrong.
I scan the details and feel nauseous. “The patient had an unexpected hemorrhage?”
“A small vessel Caldwell didn’t anticipate.” Sarah nods. “By the time he realized how severe the bleed was, the patient had lost too much blood. She survived—with nearly two years of recovery.”
“Let me guess.” I swallow. “Caldwell blamed Lee.”
“Not directly.” She tugs at her sleeves “He framed it in a way where it was hard to ascertain. Textbook diversion. He positioned himself as the experienced surgeon who was focused on the task at hand and Lee as the overeager resident who didn’t spot the blood vessel. It was his first malpractice lawsuit.”
I press my fingers to my temples. Despite his gruff disposition, Caldwell isn’t merely a great surgeon—he’s been such a cherished mentor. He leads neurosurgery. His reputation is for building careers, not destroying them.
Why the hell would he be so ruthless? Why would he let his own residents take the fall and stall their futures to protect himself?
The answer creeps in, cold and bitter.
Because his career matters more. He’s spent decades cultivating his reputation and he’s not about to let anyone—not even the people who trust him most—jeopardize it.
Sarah points to the second file. “Case two. Dr. Adrian Park.”
Part of me doesn’t want to read it. I already know what I’m going to find. Nevertheless, I can’t bury my head in the sand.
Park assisted Caldwell on a pediatric brainstem glioma resection. Park also hesitated before a crucial step after seeing something on the imaging. Caldwell dismissed it.
“Let me guess,” I murmur, “when things went sideways, it was Park’s fault.”
Sarah leans forward. “Caldwell went on the record stating Park’s retraction placement was ‘imprecise.’ Inferred he was the reason the patient ended up paralyzed. The kicker?” She motions to the paperwork. “The surgical notes don’t reflect any of this. Caldwell rewrote history.”
The nausea morphs into the possibility of dry heaves. It’s exactly what happened in the OR with Miranda. I saw the blood vessel. I knew it was too close. I hesitated.
Caldwell kept going. Probably knowing if he succeeded he’d be the hero. If he failed, it would be my fault. Either way, he’d walk away unscathed.
I force myself to meet Sarah’s gaze. “Matthew and Adrian—what happened to them?”
“Matthew left neurosurgery entirely. He switched to radiology after his reputation took a hit. Adrian managed to finish residency. Gave up his fellowship. He ended up in a small private practice, nowhere near the career he was headed for.” She bites her lip.
I grip the edge of the desk.
He buried them.
Now he’s coming for me.
Sarah studies me. “Still think he won’t throw you under the bus?”
“I—I can’t believe it.” I shake my head, slow and heavy.
Not Caldwell. Not the man who always pushes me to do better. Be better. Who said I had the hands and mental stamina of a surgeon. Who believed in me. These two examples aside, his history of ongoing mentorship to his protégées is legendary.
I blow out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “The deposition. It’s me and the Black’s lawyer, right?”
Sarah hesitates.
My stomach drops.
“Seamus,” she says carefully. “You’re not only facing Marcella Delgado tomorrow.”
I feel the shift before she even finishes the sentence.
“The hospital’s legal team is sending their own counsel.”
I fight the urge to scream. “They think I’m a liability.”
“My guess is their insurance company knows someone has to take the fall,” she corrects. “Since Caldwell is the hospital’s star surgeon and head of the department, guess who’s the easier option?”
“Jesus.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Fucking perfect.”
“Listen to me. They’ll try to corner you. To box you in with Caldwell’s version of events and make it sound like you acted on your own.” She emphasizes each point by slapping the table.
It’s jarring. It snaps me to attention, though. I nod.
“Marcella wants the truth. She needs it for the biggest settlement.” She tones down her delivery a bit, which I appreciate. All of this is incredibly stressful.
I run a hand down my face.
The truth.
The truth is: I knew . The truth is: I tried to slow down . The truth is: it didn’t matter .
I was a resident, and Caldwell was Caldwell.
He’s throwing me under the bus to take the hit.
Sarah leans forward, steady and fierce. “You are not going to be another Matthew Lee or Adrian Park, Seamus.”
“You can’t give me a definitive guarantee.” I shake my head sadly.
She lifts a brow. “The hell I can’t.”
There’s steel in her tone and in the way she looks at me. Like she’s already gearing up for war.
“I know how this plays out. I know how hospitals protect their cash cows and let the rest burn. Not this time. Not you.” She clasps my shoulder. “Caldwell isn’t going to win.”
I swallow hard and think about the sacrifices I’ve made for so many years. About Miranda Black, still lying in the hospital bed on life support. The entire McGloughlin clan, who are all so proud to have a doctor in the family.
“You’re not alone in this,” she says firmly. “No matter what happens in the deposition room tomorrow, I will fight for you.”
For the first time since this nightmare started, I almost believe her.
Hospitals bury the innocent to protect the powerful.
Sarah knows it. So do I.
She says I won’t burn for this.
Tomorrow will prove if she’s right.