DAVID’S POV
Every slow, deliberate clap from Dr. Bennett's hands shattered my world. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Not to me. Not to David Villa, Harvard graduate, Mayo Clinic resident, son of Professor Richard Villa.
"Remarkable work, Ms. Stanley," Dr. Bennett said, his eyes fixed on Kate, in her cheap dress that probably cost less than my watch. "Quick thinking. Excellent diagnostic skills. You may have saved Mr. Watkins' life."
She beamed, her face flushed with pride. "Thank you, Sir."
Dr. Bennett nodded. Then his gaze shifted to me, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "Mr. Villa."
I straightened automatically. "Sir."
"You nearly administered diazepam to a patient in hypoglycemic shock." His voice was quiet but cutting, each word a surgical incision to my ego. "Do you understand what would have happened?"
I swallowed hard. "The sedative effect would have—"
"You could have killed him," Dr. Bennett interrupted, not bothering to soften the blow. "A first-year medical student knows to check for medical alert jewelry."
The onlookers who had gathered to watch the medical drama were now witnessing my public execution.
"It was a high-pressure situation," I managed, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. "I was focused on stopping what appeared to be seizure activity."
"And Ms. Stanley was under the same pressure, yet she took those crucial extra seconds to make a proper assessment," Dr. Bennett countered. He turned back to Kate. "I believe we have some matters to discuss. Would you follow me to my office, please?"
Kate looked as shocked as I felt. "Your... office?"
"Yes," Dr. Bennett smiled at her. "I think I may have been... hasty in my earlier decision."
No. This wasn't possible. He couldn't be choosing her. Not after I'd already been offered the position. Not after I'd already texted my father about my success.
"Dr. Bennett," I started, stepping forward. "I think—"
"I think you've demonstrated quite enough for one day,," he cut me off coldly. "Ms. Stanley, shall we?"
They walked away, leaving me standing in the middle of the reception area, surrounded by strangers who had just witnessed my greatest professional humiliation. Nurses who had been fawning over me earlier were now whispering behind their hands. Rita caught my eye from the reception desk and quickly looked away, distancing herself from the sinking ship of my reputation.
I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers and hit my father's number on speed dial. He answered on the second ring.
"David? I was just about to call you to congratulate you on—"
"Dad, I need you here. Now." My voice was tight, controlled, barely containing the rage and humiliation surging beneath the surface.
"What's happened?" His tone changed immediately, going from proud to concerned.
"Bennett is giving my position to someone else." The words tasted bitter on my tongue. "From Westlake."
A pause. "I'll be there in five minutes."
True to his word, my father arrived at the reception area exactly five minutes later. He didn't just walk into a room—he commanded it. At sixty-two, he still had the bearing of an athlete, his silver hair and perfectly tailored suit projecting exactly what he was: power personified.
"David," he said, his voice low as he approached me. "Explain."
I quickly laid out the situation, the hypoglycemic patient, my misdiagnosis, Kate's intervention, and Bennett's reaction.
"So now he's taking her to his office," I finished, still seething. "Probably offering her my position."
My father's expression didn't change, but something hardened in his eyes. "An unfortunate mistake, but hardly a reason to rescind an offer that's already been made."
"Exactly," I agreed, relief flooding through me. Dad would fix this. He always did.
"Bennett's office is this way," he said, already moving toward the neurosurgery department. "Let's have a chat."
I followed half a step behind him, watching how people instinctively moved out of his path. That was the kind of respect I'd been working toward my entire life, the kind my father commanded without effort.
"You know, most of the neurosurgery wing's equipment came from Villa Medical Supplies," he remarked casually as we walked. "And the new pediatric center broke ground last month thanks to our family foundation."
"I know, Dad." Of course I knew. The Villa name was on half the plaques in the hospital.
We arrived at Dr. Bennett's office just as the door opened. Kate walked out, a smile lighting up her face, a smile that faltered when she saw us standing there. For a split second, our eyes met, and I saw something that looked like pity flash across her face.
"That's her?" my father asked, watching her retreat.
"That's her."
He assessed her with a single glance and dismissed her just as quickly. "Let's go in."
We entered without knocking. Dr. Bennett looked up from his desk, his face registering surprise and then careful neutrality when he saw who had entered.
"Professor Villa," he said, rising. "This is unexpected."
"Is it?" My father closed the door behind us. "You've just rescinded a job offer to my son after a single understandable mistake. Did you really think I wouldn't hear about it?"
Dr. Bennett sighed. "Richard, please sit down. Both of you."
We took seats across from him, my father radiating calm authority while I struggled to keep my expression neutral.
"Your son is an excellent doctor with impeccable credentials," Dr. Bennett began.
"But?" My father raised an eyebrow.
"But today he nearly administered a medication that could have had fatal consequences for a patient, while someone with less prestigious training recognized the real problem immediately."
"Everyone makes mistakes, Alexander," my father replied. "Even you. Even me. One mistake doesn't erase years of training and accomplishment."
"I agree," Dr. Bennett nodded. "Which is why I'm not dismissing David outright. I'm simply reconsidering who would be best for this particular position."
My father leaned forward slightly. "The Villa Foundation has committed fifteen million dollars to the new pediatric center. My company supplies sixty percent of Meridian Grace's medical equipment at significantly reduced rates. I'd hate to see any... disruption to those arrangements."
The threat hung in the air between them. Dr. Bennett's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Are you threatening to withdraw funding if I don't hire your son, Richard?"
"I'm simply pointing out that our family has been a longtime supporter of this institution," my father replied smoothly. "We believe in investing in excellence."
Dr. Bennett was silent for a long moment, studying my father's face, then mine. Finally, he spoke.
"I have a proposition."
"I'm listening," my father said.
"Both candidates—Mr. Villa and Ms. Stanley—will work for a trial period of one week. They'll assist me together, and at the end of that time, I'll select the one who demonstrates the superior aptitude for the position."
Father and I exchanged a look, and I exclaimed in total disbelief. “What?”