I stared and stared, so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice my phone vibrating with text messages and emails beside me.
My door was open, so Atlas walked inside and approached the bulletin board covered with papers.
He was so quiet that I hardly noticed him. My eyes took him in, in another hoodie and jeans. He wore black shoes, the most casual person in the office.
Reminded me of my dad.
I cleared my throat and looked at the papers in my lap. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot…you seem like a good guy.” I stared at the results on the page but didn’t really take them in, waiting for his response.
I eventually looked up.
As if he hadn’t heard what I’d said, he continued to stare at the board.
“Hello?”
He grabbed her chart and sat down in the chair beside me, flipping through the information. “Twenty-five-year-old female…black urine…metabolic panel…” He continued to flip. “This is a metabolic issue.” He crossed one ankle onto the opposite knee, taking up the entire armchair with his height and muscles. The shadow was on his jawline as always, like he shaved in the evenings and the hair grew back that quickly.
“I’ve tested for every metabolic issue under the sun—negative.”
“You haven’t tested for everything because that’s what she has.”
My eyes narrowed, my anger immediately spiking as if I’d never uttered an apology. “You have the papers in your hand—read them.”
“Yes, I see your chart. But you’re still missing something.”
“Then what am I missing, map boy?”
He stilled at the question then slowly turned to regard me. “Excuse me?”
I brushed off the insult. “I’ve tested for every known metabolic disease, deficiency, disorder…the whole nine yards. Every single reading is negative.”
“Then we need to test again.”
“I’m not subjecting that poor girl to all those pokes and blood draws when the results will be the same.”
“You don’t know that they’ll be the same.”
“Why wouldn’t they be?” I asked skeptically. “If I ask her to do this, you know what will happen? She’ll lose hope—because I clearly have no new ideas. Not to mention, it’ll cost her a ton of money, and insurance isn’t going to cover repeat labs.”
“Then you’re missing a test—because it’s metabolic.”
“Whoa, buddy.” I held up my hand. “She has been my patient for two months now, and you just started this week. You can’t just glance at her lab work and scans and assume you know something I don’t.”
“I do know something you don’t.”
Both of my eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”
He held up the clipboard. “All of her symptoms point to a deficiency. There’s something in her diet that she can’t process, and that lack of proper metabolism is causing toxicity to her system. If this goes untreated, it’ll probably kill her.”
“I’ve never seen a metabolic issue that would cause this much duress to her system. Maybe you’re right, but I think it’s paired with some other disorder she has, whether it’s genetic or acquired, and in combination, it’s wreaking this havoc on her system.”
He shook his head. “She’s clean for everything. MS, autoimmune…”
“Then why don’t you re-test?” I asked like a smartass.
He inhaled a slow breath. “What is your problem?”
“My problem? I tried to apologize to you, and you ignored me.”
“Because I don’t care about that.” He held up the clipboard. “This is what I care about. You’re missing something, and I’m trying to help you.”
“Help me or insult me?”
“There’s no room for ego in medicine.”
“There’s no room for arrogance either. You won’t even listen to me. You won’t even let me give a full breakdown of this patient, whom I actually know. You’re just looking at her charts and assuming you’ve got it all figured out.”
He set the chart on the table between us and pivoted his entire body toward me. “I know you’re used to being the smartest person in every room you step into, but you aren’t anymore. I know my shit.”
“Wow…okay.”
“I’ll reach out to my contacts to see if we’re missing something.” He rose to his feet and turned away. “You can keep staring at the wall in the dark all you want…while I go save her life.”
“Dad, he’s a prick. Super prick.”
He sat across from me, the beer in front of him on the bar.
When I got off work, I asked him to meet me so I could tell him his judgment was totally off. “You’re brilliant and all that, but you are not a good judge of character. I tried to apologize to him, and he said nothing.”
“Did you apologize to show remorse? Or did you apologize for a response?”
“What?”
“If someone apologized to me, I probably wouldn’t say anything either. If it’s genuine, it doesn’t warrant a response.”
I rolled my eyes dramatically. “That’s not even the point, alright? He said I was the arrogant one, then said he’s smarter than me. How is that not arrogant?”
Dad stared for a long time, taking another signature long pause. “He may not be coming off the right way, but he’s trying to help you. He’s putting the patient’s needs before work politics. He’s not wasting time kissing your ass and cushioning your ego—which is exactly what you like.”
“But that’s not what happened. You had to be there, alright?”
“What if he’s right?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if he’s right about the metabolic deficiency?”
“He’s not. I tested everything.”
“Answer the question.”
“I…I don’t know. Then he’s right, and we can begin treatment.”
“I mean, if he’s right, will you accept him? Will you take his feedback as an asset rather than an attack?”
I rolled my eyes again. “You’re on his side.”
“Not necessarily. I can attest to his brilliance and credibility. You’ve lived your entire life being at the top of your class, skipping grades, scoring at the genius level on the IQ scales, always being right about everything. I think you don’t like the fact that he’s pushing you.”
“Pushing me?” I asked incredulously. “I thrive on the opportunity to improve. That’s not the issue.”
“Then what is the issue?”
“The way he goes about it. He’s difficult.”
“Sweetheart, people that brilliant don’t know how not to be difficult. I’ve come off that way my entire career. You’re unique because you inherited a good amount of social intelligence from your mother, and he probably has no idea how to react to that. Cut him some slack. He’s never met anyone like you.”
I gave a loud sigh and took a drink of my beer.
“I don’t want you to change for anybody, but this is something you need to consider. My biggest weakness is communication. To this day, I’m still terrible at it. You’ve witnessed that firsthand. Think about it that way.”
4
Atlas
Cardio and weights were completed first thing in the morning.
That left me the rest of the day to get shit done and have a beer while I worked on the couch before bed.
I got to Hamilton Pharmaceuticals bright and early, transferring the antibodies into the tubes before being tested in the machine. We were studying immune therapy with a new cocktail that was a mixture of natural cells from the rats we tested, along with antiviral components.
Cancer had no cure, but we’d keep trying.
I’d left my position as a full-time researcher but stayed on for part-time opportunities. It cost me one hour of sleep, but it was worth it. The only reason I left my position at Hamilton was because the clinic was the position I wanted more—my life’s passion.
I hadn’t expected to take the top posi
tion without resistance, but I also hadn’t expected that resistance to be so blatant.
And I also hadn’t expected a Hamilton to be the one causing the strife.
I continued my work until everything was transferred over then I took a seat at the monitor. Once the mice were injected, we would draw the blood and harvest the data. Research was a big aspect of my life, but I still got frustrated that it took so long. My boss, Dr. Deacon Hamilton, had been doing this his entire career and made progressive movements to battle cancer, either getting patients into remission or at least buying them time, and he still hadn’t made dramatic headway.
Sometimes I wondered if cancer couldn’t be beat.
My biggest fear? That the cure was in a flower in the wild, a fruit in the rainforest, in a creature now extinct—and they were all gone.
The door to the lab opened and closed. “You’re here early.”
I looked away from the monitor and saw Dr. Hamilton enter the lab, his white lab coat on top of his sweater and jeans. The facility didn’t have a dress code and encouraged researchers and physicians to wear whatever they felt comfortable in. I carried that forward into the rest of my professional engagements because I agreed with the reasoning. No reason to waste any headspace and money getting slacks and a tie. “Wanted to get a head start. Have a meeting at the clinic.”
Dr. Hamilton moved to the other side of the table and lowered himself to a stool. His goggles were pushed to the top of his head, and he set his notebook on the counter. He opened the first couple pages and read through the notes he’d made for himself.
Dr. Hamilton was nothing like his daughter. He was serious about work, but he was also laid-back. Didn’t talk much either. Hard to believe the two were related, other than their appearance. Both had dark hair, but the rest of Daisy’s features were a bit softer.
He grabbed his pen and made a note.
“I transferred the antibodies and the cocktail for the mixture. Just need to inject the mice now.”
“I can handle that so you can take off.” He pulled blue nitrile gloves from his pockets and pulled them up to his wrists.
“I appreciate your flexibility. Allowing me to keep part-time status lets me continue the work I’m invested in, but also pursue my other passions as well. Not everyone would be so accommodating.”
He lowered his goggles over his eyes as he stared at me across the table, his expression hard and stoic like usual. Daisy showed every thought that passed through her head in her eyes, but her father was so much more restrained. He took his time to say things. Whereas she just exploded like a cannon. “I don’t believe in the traditional workweek. I don’t believe you need to stay in one place and sell your soul to your employer. People at this intellectual level need more than just one place at a time. No reason you can’t do multiple things at once. Both of my sons are that way. They have multiple professional obligations. It’s different for me because I run the company and I get to be a part of multiple research projects at once. But I appreciate the sentiment, Dr. Beaumont.”
I left the stool and stripped off my gloves before I dropped my goggles into the sanitation bucket.
“How are things at the clinic?” He moved past me, taking the notebook with him.
“Good. Caught up to speed quickly.” I washed my hands before I patted them dry with the paper towel. “We have a lot of work to do, and I’m excited to make our goals a reality.” I tossed the soiled paper towel into the receptacle then turned around.
He stood there, leaning against the edge of the table. “I’m sure you’ve met my daughter.”
Yes, the spitfire. “Yes. She’s a brilliant diagnostician. Every other physician I’ve spoken to in private says the same thing.”
He gave a slight smile. “I know she can be…a lot.”
I kept a straight face and remained professional. “A bit…maybe.”
He gave a chuckle. “I know the two of you aren’t getting along. She’s shared some bits and pieces about it.”
Not getting along? Understatement.
“Daisy is very gifted. Like the rest of my kids, she’s inherited my brilliance, but she also inherited a great deal from my wife. She has those social skills the rest of us don’t have. She’s more relatable, and she’s more…emotional? I’m not really sure how to describe it. But I want you to know that she’s kind, loving, passionate, friendly…a wonderful person. I just think you aren’t seeing that version of her right now, but I promise you, it’s there.”
“I’m sure I’ll see all those things, Dr. Hamilton.” He was a man I admired, had admired since I was young, had the career I wanted to emulate. He’d accomplished so much in his lifetime, and his ambitions were never monetary. That was rare in this world, so when I was hired, I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I would never insult him by saying a single bad thing about his daughter—even if she was a pain in the ass.
“I think, subconsciously, she feels a bit threatened by you.”
“I don’t see why she would be.”
“Well, I’ve attested to your qualities on multiple occasions, which is not something I do with my other colleagues. She’s always been my star. My sons tell me that she’s my favorite, and I’ve never confessed to it, but…she is. You came in there and took the position she wanted—with a recommendation from me. It’s unnerved her a bit.”
“Perhaps you’re right. I apologize if my letter of recommendation caused any tension between you.”
He shook his head and patted me on the arm. “Even if I’d known beforehand, I would have written it anyway.”
I arrived at the clinic and headed to my office in the back.
The office walls were made of glass, so when I passed through, I noticed one office was already occupied.
Daisy’s.
She sat behind her desk with her eyes focused on her open laptop.
I ignored her and stepped into my office. The room had been gutted. The dark bookshelves had been removed, the dark mahogany desk had been replaced with a sleek, gray table, and the stuffy rugs had been tossed.
I opened my laptop and accessed my video messages.
My contact in France, Dr. Madurri, responded to my patient inquiry. I hit play and watched the video. “Hello, Dr. Beaumont. Just watched your video, and I think I have an idea about your patient’s problem. There’s a very rare metabolic condition where several different proteins aren’t being metabolized by the system. That explains the black urine. Also, it explains the pain she’s experiencing, because when she can’t process the proteins, they’re literally shredding through the wall of her kidneys.”
“Shit…”
“I’ve only seen it in two patients in my career, and we have a test I could ship to you to try. It’s a very rare condition, so rare that I think fewer than ten people in the world probably have it. I’ve already sent out the package with overnight shipping, so it should make it to you soon. Good luck, Dr. Beaumont.”
I hit the button on my phone and spoke through to her speaker. “Dr. Hamilton, could you come here for a moment?”
Her voice came back instantly. “Didn’t know you were here.”
I waited for her to walk through the door, but moments passed, and she never showed up. I hit the button again. “Dr. Hamilton?”
“Yes?”
“I asked you to come here.”
“Why don’t you come to me?”
Wonderful person…right. “I just spoke with a colleague. I think I know what’s going on with your patient.”
“Great. Come to my office.”
“No.”
“Fine.”
I dragged my hands down my face, furious with her insubordination. I hit the button again. “Get your ass here now.”
“Or what?”
“Maybe I’ll fire you.”
“Give it your best try, bitch.”
I’d never interacted with someone so infuriating. I hit the button again. “What is the problem here? I have a solution for your patient, and yo
u don’t seem to give a damn.”
“I do give a damn. I’ve been here all night working on this.”
“Well, that was a waste of time because I found her diagnosis. Now get your ass over here.”
“I will when you apologize.”
Apologize? “For what, exactly?”
“You’re a prick. That’s what.”
Was this because of the way I left her office last night? “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re just frustrating.”
“Ooh, so close. I’m just going to stare at the wall in the dark…if you need anything.”
I ignored the phone and inhaled a slow breath, never so frustrated with a colleague. I refused to leave my office and go to hers, not when I was the one in charge and she was beneath me. She would wait for me to come to her office, but when she realized that wouldn’t happen, she would cave. She would cave because she would be too curious about my diagnosis to ignore it.
I was right.
She walked through the open door a few minutes later.
She halted and looked around, seeing the drastic changes I’d made. “Did I just walk into an Apple store?”
I clenched my jaw and kept my mouth shut so I wouldn’t say something unforgivable.
She approached my desk, in a tight pencil skirt with a short-sleeve blouse tucked into it, high pumps on her feet, her long and full hair in curls around her face. She had dark hair like her father, a deep contrast against her fair skin. Her arms crossed over her chest, and her annoyed expression said it all.
She hated herself for coming.
I turned the laptop around and played the video for her.
She took a seat and watched it.
I watched her as she watched it. What a shame someone so beautiful was so fucking annoying.
She closed the laptop when she was done then silently excused herself.
“Where’s my apology?”
She turned around at the door.
“Because I was right, and you were wrong.”
“We don’t know that yet—”
The Girl Who Doesn't Quit (Soulless Book 12) Page 3
