First day

Rachel POV

Phew, ~ finally I am here ! Yes!! (celebrating inside her head) (I walk inside the reception to check in her job in The general hospital as a senior cardiologist)

Hello, I am Dr Rachel Sharma. I am here to join as the senior cardiologist in the hospital (calmly)

Reception nurse - just a minute mam, let me check my computer, and then we are good to go. (after a minute) yes, I have found your name. Here is your temporary ID. The cardiology department is on the second floor. You should consult the head of the department first before reporting to your assigned duty.

(I nod before walking to the department floor and goes to the HOD Dr vance's office)

-Hello sir , myself Dr Rachel Sharma, and I am here to join your department as a senior cardiologist.(she sat perfectly still, her spine straight enough to be used as a surgical ruler. She didn't fidget. She didn't smile. She just presented the data—5 years of flawless, hard-won metrics that proved her superior skill.)

Dr. Vance looked up from the file, but her eyes, framed by the sweeping view of the city, were disconcertingly cool. “Dr. Sharma, your numbers are stellar. Intervention survival rates are the highest in the district. No one disputes your technical skill.”

Here it comes, I thought, bracing myself. The 'but.'

“However,” she continued, placing the file down, “the other candidates—Dr. Almasi, Dr. Chen—they demonstrate a certain 'flexibility.' They engage in the political dance. They understand how to move within the institution.”

“My process, Doctor,” I said, ensuring my voice was low and perfectly steady, “is what ensures patients from every tax bracket receive the same gold standard of care. I won't compromise patient outcome for institutional congeniality.” I wasn't just talking about a procedure; I was drawing a line in the sand, separating my hard-won ethics from their easy privileges.

Then she flipped the page to my residency record. My whole body stiffened. I knew exactly what was there. "You received a rather... pointed critique during your residency under Director Thorne."

The man who taught me in three months exactly how biased this whole system was. He had critiqued my "excessive rigidity" because I refused to follow a protocol that would have been faster for the hospital but dangerous for a patient

I met Vance's gaze directly. "That critique, Doctor Vance, cited 'excessive rigidity,'" I stated, owning the words. "It was written after I refused to comply with a patient transfer protocol that I determined would endanger the patient, despite the Director’s insistence. I was a resident, but I stood by my medical oath."

I paused for effect, letting my conviction hang in the air. "You can hire a doctor who will tell you what you want to hear and follow the easiest path. Or you can hire the one who will make this department the national leader in results. I won't change my ethics for this title. I will, however, elevate this entire division."

Vance gave me a slow, assessing nod—a flicker of something that looked like respect. "Very well, Dr. Sharma. We'll be in touch."

I stood, thanked her with the bare minimum of professional warmth, and walked out. My spine still felt stiff, my jaw aching from the control I had exerted. I felt exhausted, but also undeniably alive. I had faced the Thorne family’s institutional ghost and hadn't conceded an inch. Now, all I could do was wait for the verdict.

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