Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
ELENA
Elena settled into her chair, forcing herself to breathe normally as she watched Finn rise from his seat.
Inside, she was seething. She had carefully kept her composure cool through every condescending word from David.
And it had taken every ounce of self-control not to lunge across the table and wipe that smug expression off his face.
Her hands trembled as she set down her presentation materials, and she had to press them flat against the table to still them.
But beneath her anger was something else.
They'd spent all week preparing for this exact moment, playfully calling it "Plan B" like it was some kind of heist. What we do when David inevitably tries to destroy us, Finn had said with that dry humor she'd come to love.
And now here they were, David having played perfectly into their hands.
She looked up at Finn as he took the lead on the presentation. His expression had transformed into something she recognized immediately. It was the polite, empty smile of a customer service representative who'd spent years dealing with entitled assholes.
"If you don't mind, David," Finn said, his voice carrying that same artificially pleasant tone, "I've prepared some supplementary slides that I feel may address your concerns."
Elena watched him with quiet admiration. She wasn’t his supervisor anymore. They were partners in every sense of the word. And he had earned this moment just as much as she had.
"I'd like to present a case study," he began, his voice clear. "Patient X."
Elena watched the board members' faces, cataloging their expressions. Most showed polite interest, the standard response to what appeared to be a typical patient presentation. David had settled back into his chair, fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest. He clearly saw this as a waste of everyone’s time.
"Patient X suffered a severe traumatic brain injury in a car accident," Finn continued as medical images appeared on the screen.
The brain scans showed extensive damage to frontal and temporal lobes.
"He enrolled in an experimental neurofeedback protocol in 2017, approved and overseen by this institution. "
Elena noticed a slight shift in energy in the room. Board members glanced at each other, uncertain where this was going. David's fingers had stopped their drumming, his posture more alert.
"The trial Patient X took part in had an eighteen percent success rate," Finn stated, the number appearing in bold text on screen. "Eighteen percent of patients showed meaningful improvement. Eighty-two percent of the patients continued to suffer."
Elena felt a small thrill of vindication as she watched understanding dawn on several board members' faces.
"What's particularly notable," Finn continued, his voice maintaining that same measured tone, "is that the trial's timeline was compressed significantly from the researchers' original proposal. The research team filed a formal appeal, expressing concerns about patient safety and data integrity."
The screen changed to display the scanned document, the researchers' desperate, formal language highlighted in yellow: "We respectfully request a six-month extension to ensure proper monitoring of neurological responses and to implement appropriate safety protocols for participants experiencing adverse effects. "
Elena watched the board members lean forward almost in unison, several adjusting their glasses to better read the document projected on the screen. The room had gone still, the only sound the soft hum of the ventilation system. David's expression had hardened, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on Finn.
"This protocol was approved by David Turner," Finn said calmly. "The research team's appeal for additional time was reviewed by David Turner."
Finn scrolled to the bottom of the document, where David's rejection sat in stark black and white: "Extension denied due to budgetary constraints." His signature flourished beneath the dismissal.
"Elena," Finn said, turning toward her. "Would you mind pulling up David's compensation data from 2017?"
David's reaction was immediate. "This is completely inappropriate!
" he sputtered, half-rising from his chair.
His face had gone red, veins visible in his neck.
"This has nothing to do with the research under review!
You're attempting to defame me in front of my colleagues, and I will not stand for it!
I demand that you cease this presentation immediately! "
Board members shifted uncomfortably in their seats, eyes darting between David and each other. No one spoke.
Finn's expression didn't change. "If you're done with your temper tantrum, we’ll continue our presentation."
David's mouth fell open slightly, shock replacing rage on his face. He looked around the table at his fellow board members, clearly expecting backup, solidarity, something.
David's face cycled through emotions as he processed his isolation. Finally, he made a weak, dismissive gesture with his hand, as if he were above all this and merely allowing them to continue out of politeness.
"Yeah! Shut up bitch!"
At first, Elena thought she was dreaming.
Who would have said such a thing at a professional medical presentation?
She scanned the room until she found Eric staring at David, a huge grin on his face.
Elena looked back at David. She wished desperately that she had a camera to capture the expression on his face.
This was the hidden beauty of involving Eric in their presentation. He didn't report to anyone in this room. He was just a patient, not to mention a military veteran. David certainly wasn't going to fight him, verbally or otherwise.
Elena clocked a fist-bump between Finn and Eric underneath the table.
“Thank you, Eric,” Finn said and Elena had to stifle a laugh. “Let’s continue. I believe we were pulling up the compensation package for David for 2017.”
Elena continued to the next slide, bringing up the document they'd prepared. At the bottom of the document, David's total compensation package displayed in clean font.
"Dr. Herrera, would you mind reading that annual bonus compensation figure at the bottom?" Finn asked her. "I forgot to put my contacts in today."
Elena bit back a smile at the blatant lie. Finn didn’t wear contacts.
"Ten million dollars," she read.
The silence that followed was deeply uncomfortable.
Elena looked at every board member. Not a single one looked her in the eye.
She couldn’t let them get off scot-free in this either.
They were complicit in all of this. David was the chair, but they approved everything he’d done. They’d chosen to look the other way.
She wasn’t going to let them look away today.
"2019 protocol: fifteen percent success rate. Extension denied due to budgetary constraints. $11.2 million dollar bonus."
"2021 protocol: twenty-two percent success rate. Extension denied due to budgetary constraints. Bonus increased to $13 million."
When Elena stopped, an awkward silence remained. Finn’s voice cut through it.
“The money isn’t what matters to me.” He paused, looking at David. “What matters is these patients deserved the best possible chance at recovery. And I don’t believe they were given that chance.”
David leaned back in his chair, contemplating his next move. Then his eyes narrowed on Finn.
“Look, I understand you’re passionate about this work. But you’re being na?ve. This was an experimental treatment. Do you understand what that means? Experimental protocols fail more often than they succeed.”
He paused, letting that sink in before continuing. “I hate to break it to you, kid, but we don’t live in a fairy tale world where every sick person gets better. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, treatments don’t work. That’s the nature of medical research.”
He leaned forward, expression hardening. “And again, you’re attempting emotional manipulation. You’ve cherry picked another case, this Patient X, to justify your argument. You’re not presenting theater, not science.”
Finn took a breath. "Patient X wasn't randomly selected. He wasn't cherry-picked for dramatic effect."
Elena felt her breath catch, knowing what was coming.
"Patient X was my brother.”
The room went still. David’s face went pale. Most of the board were looking down at their notes, looking anywhere besides Finn. Elena reached for Finn’s hand under the table and squeezed.
“My brother, Liam Cochrane, died in 2021 from multiple organ failure. The last four years of his life were unbearable. He couldn’t get a single good night’s sleep in the entirety of those four years.
Constant headaches. His memory faded until he couldn’t recognize me.
It just kept getting worse until the end. ”
He paused, but his eyes never left David. No one in the room dared to speak.
“At the time, I blamed the researchers. Nothing they tried helped him. Now I realize they were doing the best they could. You made their work impossible.”
Elena felt a tear slide down her cheek before she could stop it, quickly wiping it away with her free hand.
David shifted in his seat, clearly weighing his options. When he finally spoke, he attempted a sympathetic tone.
“I’m sorry about your brother, Mr. Cochrane. Truly.” He paused, tone hardening slightly.
“But individual tragic cases cannot dictate institutional policy. My role at Bridgepoint is financial in nature. I’m supposed to ensure the company’s resources are allocated responsibly.
When I reviewed those trials and saw the limited success rates, I made the difficult but financially prudent decision.
Someone has to think about the bottom line and keeping this company solvent.
Unfortunately, we can’t afford to help everybody. The budget won’t allow it.”
Elena watched him work. If she didn’t know better, she might have believed him.