DASHIELL
Two days later
I made my way down the hall, scanning through the files on my tablet while trying not to wince with every step. My body still ached in places I didn't want to think about, a constant, dull reminder of the weekend. The high turtleneck I was wearing again today was starting to feel like a second skin.
I was heading to the Pediatric Neurology ward for a new consult. A four-year-old girl named Sophia had been admitted overnight with sudden onset staring spells and mild motor regression. Nothing immediately life-threatening, but the pattern worried me enough to want to review her EEG and imaging myself before rounds.
I was so focused on the notes that I didn't notice the person coming toward me until it was too late.
I was so focused on the notes that I didn't notice the person walking toward me until it was too late.
We collided hard.
The files slipped from my arms and scattered across the floor in a messy pile of papers and charts.
"Shit… I'm so sorry!" I blurted, immediately dropping to my knees to gather everything as quickly as possible. My cheeks burned with embarrassment.
As I reached for the last few sheets, a pair of elegant black high heels came into view right in front of me. I slowly looked up.
A tall, strikingly beautiful woman in a crisp white doctor's coat stood over me, arms crossed, looking down with a cool, condescending expression.
She was statuesque, easily 5'10" even without the heels with sharp features, perfectly styled auburn hair, and an air of superiority that radiated off her.
I quickly stood up, clutching the disorganized files to my chest. "I'm really sorry about that. I wasn't watching where I was going."
The woman's eyes scanned me from head to toe, her lips curving into a thin, unfriendly smile.
"So you're the new guy," she said, her tone dripping with condescension. "Dashiell Harper, right? Or should I say… Dashiell *Astor* now?"
I blinked, confused by the rude edge in her voice. I didn't know this woman at all.
"Uh… yes, that's me," I replied cautiously, trying to be polite. "I'm sorry, have we met?"
She let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Not officially. But everyone's been talking about you." Her gaze flicked to the files in my arms. "Dr. Calliope Langford. Cardiothoracic Surgery. I work closely with your *husband* in the surgical department."
My stomach did a small, uneasy flip at the way she emphasized the word "husband." Something about her tone felt… off. Hostile, even.
"Oh," I said, forcing a small, awkward smile. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Langford."
She didn't return the politeness. Instead, she tilted her head, studying me like I was an interesting specimen.
"So tell me," she continued, voice sweet but laced with venom, "how does a pediatric neurologist from a tiny family hospital end up married to Alexander Astor? That's quite the upgrade, isn't it? From Harper Medical to the Astor name overnight."
I felt my cheeks heat. Her words were polite on the surface, but the condescension was unmistakable.
"It… wasn't exactly like that," I said quietly, clutching the files tighter. "It's complicated."
Calliope's smile sharpened. "Complicated. How charming. Well, congratulations, Dr. Astor. You've certainly caused quite the stir around here. Everyone's dying to know how you managed to catch the Ice King himself."
There was something bitter and personal in her tone that made me uncomfortable. I didn't know what her history with Alexander was, but I could feel the hostility rolling off her in waves.
Before I could think of a proper response, she took a step closer, lowering her voice just enough for only me to hear.
"Just a friendly warning," she said softly. "Alexander gets bored easily. Very easily. When he does… well, let's just say the fallout isn't pretty."
I stared at her, stunned by the open rudeness.
Before I could reply, a familiar deep voice cut through the hallway behind me.
"Calliope."
We both turned.
Alexander was walking toward us, tall and imposing in his black scrubs, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. His eyes flicked between us lingering on Calliope with clear irritation.
"Is there a problem?" he asked flatly, coming to stand beside me. His presence was immediately dominating, making the hallway feel smaller.
Calliope's smile turned saccharine. "Not at all. I was just introducing myself to your… husband."
Alexander's gaze hardened. "Then you're done."
The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. I had no idea what was going on, but I suddenly felt very out of place.
Calliope gave me one last condescending look. "Welcome to the family, Dr. Astor. Try not to get lost."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, her high heels clicking sharply down the corridor.
I let out a shaky breath, still clutching the files. "She… doesn't like me very much."
Alexander didn't look at me. His eyes stayed fixed on Calliope's retreating figure for a moment longer before he finally spoke, voice flat.
"She doesn't matter."
Alexander's voice was flat and cold as he glanced down at the messy stack of papers in my arms.
"Fix your files. You have a seizure case in twenty minutes."
Then, without another word, he turned and continued down the hall, leaving me standing there, confused, embarrassed, and more than a little unsettled.
What the hell was that about?
I shook my head, trying to push the strange encounter out of my mind, and continued toward the Pediatric Neurology ward.
But the uneasy feeling lingered.
Something told me Dr. Calliope Langford and I were not going to get along.
*****
I had barely settled back at my desk after hours of walking around when loud shouting erupted from the end of the corridor.
Raised voices echoed down the hallway, loud, angry, chaotic. A man was shouting, his voice raw with fury. A woman was crying hysterically. Staff members were trying to calm them down, their voices overlapping in urgent attempts to de-escalate.
I stepped out of my office, heart already picking up speed.
The scene in the main corridor was pure chaos.
Mateo's father, the stepfather was red-faced and screaming at two hospital security guards and a woman in a dark suit I recognized as Maria from the Child Protection Team.
"How dare you report us to Child Protective Services!" he bellowed, veins bulging in his neck. "You think you can just take our son away?! He's my boy! You people did this your surgery messed him up and now you're trying to blame us!"
His wife was sobbing beside him, clutching his arm. "Please… please don't take him… he needs to stay here…"
Maria was speaking calmly but firmly. "Mr. Rivera, this is a standard welfare check. We have reasonable suspicion of non-accidental injury based on inconsistencies in the history and previous records. Mateo is still under medical care and will remain in the hospital for now. CPS has been notified and they're sending a caseworker to assess the situation."
The stepfather's face twisted with rage."Who the hell reported us?! Tell me who it was! Pointing fingers at us instead of admitting your hospital fucked up!"
My stomach dropped.
I stepped forward, trying to keep my voice steady even though my pulse was hammering and the noise was starting to overwhelm me.
"I was the one who raised the concern," I said clearly, stepping into the fray. "The seizure pattern and timeline didn't align with post-surgical complications. There were inconsistencies in the history you gave me. I had a duty to protect Mateo and follow hospital protocol. This isn't about blaming anyone, it's about making sure he's safe."
"You?!" the man roared, stalking toward me. "You little bastard! You think you can accuse me of abusing my own son?!"
The mother rushed toward me, eyes wild with tears and desperation. "How could you do this?! He's our son! You're going to take him away from us? He still needs treatment here!"
The stepfather's face darkened with fury. Before anyone could stop him, he lunged forward and punched me hard in the face.
Pain exploded across my cheekbone. I stumbled backward, files scattering across the floor again as my vision blurred for a second.
Chaos erupted.
Security immediately grabbed the man, pulling him back. Maria was shouting for them to calm down. Nurses were rushing over. Someone was calling for backup.
My ears were ringing. The noise was too loud, shouting, crying, footsteps, overlapping voices, it all crashed into my brain like static turned up to maximum. My hands started shaking. I could feel myself shutting down, the familiar overwhelm making it hard to process anything.
I pressed a hand to my throbbing cheek, tasting blood in my mouth, trying to breathe through the sensory storm.
Mateo was still an inpatient, he needed continued neurological monitoring for his seizures and the subdural hematoma. CPS hadn't taken him away yet, but they were actively investigating. The home visit had apparently confirmed the neighbors' reports of frequent shouting and the boy being hit by his stepfather.
And now everything was exploding because of the report I had made.
The stepfather lunged forward again, security barely holding him back as he screamed:
"You're trying to destroy my family! I'll kill you, you piece of shit!"
My ears were ringing.
My vision blurred from the pain and the overwhelming sensory chaos.
I couldn't think.
I couldn't breathe properly.
All I could do was press myself harder against the wall, heart racing, waiting for the next blow.