Jasmine enveloped James as he held Deanna close. The overhead pages and the shrill ring of phones faded beneath their whispers.

“James,” Deanna whispered, “I think you need to speak to someone. If not Nomura, then another attending.”

“I will talk to Nomura. But you’re right—we need allies.”

“What about Haas?”

James hesitated. “Strange, isn’t it? Months ago, I wouldn’t have even considered her. Our cases go smoothly now, but we’ve never talked about anything else. I don’t know how she’d respond.”

“It can’t hurt. She’s blunt, but her advice is sound. She may know the right people.”

James brushed her hair back, letting the scent of jasmine steady him. “I’ll try this afternoon. She’ll help us.”

Haas was buried in hematopathology sign-outs when James slipped into her office. She studied her reflection in a small pocket mirror before tucking it into a drawer.

“What is it, James?” Her tone was flat.

“Do you have a few minutes? It’s…not about a case. A personal issue.”

She gestured to the chair. “Go on.”

“It’s about ULS. Carlisle has been meeting with Hartman at Riverside. Carlos has a source who says they’re maneuvering to replace Memorial. Replace Nomura.”

Her brows lifted, just slightly. “And who else knows this?”

“Deanna. That’s all. I thought you’d know the right move. Should I go to Dr. Morelli?”

Haas’ mouth curled into a thin smile. “Alex Morelli wouldn’t know what to do with useful information if it were tattooed on his forehead.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You did the right thing coming to me. The ULS contract is critical for Memorial. Without it, more downsizing, more bloodletting. Leave it with me. Don’t tell anyone else.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

James closed the door behind him—and walked straight into Dan’s waving arms.

“James, come in.” Dan turned up his CD player. The husky trumpet of Miles Davis filled the room. “Live at the Plugged Nickel. Good stuff.”

“Dan, I don’t have time—”

“Shh. Just listen to his tone.”

“Dan, I need to—”

“You’re meeting with Haas? With Hartman?” Dan’s grin was sharp. “These walls are paper-thin. I hear everything.”

James stiffened. “What do you know?”

Dan spun in his chair, laughing. “More than you and Carlos. Haas has been playing you all for fools.”

James froze.

“She hates Nomura. Always has. Residents love him, surgeons trust him, revenue flows because of him. And her? Brilliant, yes. But invisible. Overshadowed. She’ll never forgive him for it.”

“But she’s one of the best. Even Nomura respects her.”

“No one cares. All she sees are accolades heaped on him.” Dan leaned close. “She’s leaving Memorial. She’s joining Hartman in Ladue. When the lawsuit settles, Nomura and Memorial are out. Hartman and Haas are in.”

James staggered. “Oh my God.”

“Get out, James. This program is bleeding out. Morelli can’t stop it. I’m gone too—heading back to Wisconsin. Home.”

The truths James clung to splintered into lies. He stumbled from the office, adrenaline burning in his veins. He took the stairs three at a time, shot through the hospital doors, and within minutes was standing in Nomura’s office, chest heaving.

“Dr. Nomura—I need to tell you everything.”

He spilled the whole story—Carlos, Haas, Dan. Nomura listened in silence, staring at a lone slide on the microscope stage.

“Damn them,” he whispered. Then louder, pounding his fist: “Damn them!”

“Dr. Nomura, we can’t just—”

“I gave everything to this lab,” Nomura choked. “Never complained. Never! And for what?” His voice cracked. “Why?” He dropped his head onto the desk, a man undone.

James’ fists clenched. This wasn’t the man who told him to endure. This was surrender.

“Dr. Nomura, we need to confront Carlisle—”

Nomura shook his head without looking up. “No, James. Accept it. You cannot change the inevitable.”

James turned, fire searing his chest. Was this his future? To be silent, broken, humiliated? No. He stormed out, past the transcriptionists who shrank against their cubicles, and barged into Carlisle’s office.

Carlisle was mid-phone call. He ended it with a calm, “I’ll call you back.”

“James. Something I can do for you?”

James’ words came like bullets. “I know about your deal with Hartman. About Haas leaving Memorial. About dumping Dr. Nomura. I know everything.”

Carlisle leaned back, expression unreadable. “Do you know how many people work at ULS?”

“What does that—”

“Three hundred and fifty here. Nearly ten thousand nationwide. We answer to patients, employees, boards, shareholders. You think this is about you and Nomura. You know nothing.”

“You don’t know what Nomura’s done for you. You told me you needed him. You needed us. But all you want is someone to push your glass. You have no honor!”

Carlisle’s voice sharpened. “No, James. You’re afraid of yourself. This is your future. Get out of my lab.”

The transcriptionists outside pretended to busy themselves with a coffee pot, but their ears burned. James shoved past them, knocking one into her desk. A chorus of “Ooo!” followed him down the hall.

Back at Memorial, Deanna was pacing outside his office. It was 6:30; the halls were empty.

“Dan told me everything.”

“Deanna, I confronted Carlisle.”

“You what?”

“I told him I knew. Told him Nomura was worth more than he could imagine.”

Her face blanched. “James, he could have you fired.”

James smiled grimly. “So what? This—” he lifted a glass slide—“is all that matters. If I have to go back to the Philippines, I’ll go. They can hate me for being foreign. But they will never hate me for being a bad pathologist. Never.”

Deanna’s grip tightened on his hand. “I know. I won’t.”

“Thin walls, Deanna,” James said, his voice low but fierce. “Thin walls and hollow words. Not me. Never me.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 32-Gaman