Medical Center. Cafeteria.
"So, what the heck happened?" Meredith couldn't help but press.
"What do you think happened?" Mark Sloan shot her a cold smirk. "I gave you one little task this morning—something even a rookie intern could handle—and you totally botched it! Let's be real, if you weren't coasting on connections, you'd be the one repeating your internship!"
Meredith's face went beet red in a flash. But logic kicked in, and she stared at him, stunned. "Wait, you mean the thing this morning about telling the patient in Room 5513 she was dying? Something went wrong?"
"Here's the chart—see for yourself!" Mark snapped, his voice icy. "It was Room 5512, and it's a he, not a she! You told some lady who came in to get a mole removed that she's about to kick the bucket!"
Adam grabbed the chart and took a peek. Yup, it was Room 5512 alright. Though, to be fair, that last "2" was scribbled with a little flourish that kinda made it look like a "3."
So, Mark wasn't totally in the clear here either—his handwriting was a hot mess, all sloppy and unprofessional, which could easily trip someone up.
But Meredith's screw-up? Way too basic. If she wasn't sure, she should've double-checked with Mark instead of just waltzing off and assuming.
That's why Adam didn't even think about sticking up for her. Sure, Mark was kinda being a jerk about it, but this was one of those times where he had every right as her boss to chew her out. Adam wasn't about to undermine that.
Like Mark said, this was the kind of thing even an intern could nail. For a full-fledged resident like Meredith to mess it up? She deserved the heat! 😬
And let's not forget—this kind of mistake could literally cost someone their life!
If Adam spoke up, even just to fairly point out Mark's sloppy handwriting, it'd soften the blow too much and Meredith wouldn't learn her lesson.
Friends are friends, sure.
But rules are rules!
Helping her out right now? That'd just hurt her in the long run.
So when Adam saw Christina notice the "2 vs. 3" handwriting issue and open her mouth to jump in, he gave her a quick kick under the table and shot her a look: Zip it.
Christina felt for her bestie, no doubt, but with Adam's nudge, she held back. She just buried her nose in the chart, resisting the urge to snap back.
"Norman… I'll go explain it to her right now!" Meredith started, almost blaming her intern, Norman, but she swallowed the excuse.
Her interns were her responsibility, period. Any mess-ups fell on her. Plus, she'd been the one dragging Norman along to deliver the news—rushing off to catch the chairman's parasitic catfish surgery. She'd handed him the chart and told him to handle it.
Norman had gone by the chart's location.
But she should've double-checked it first.
"Too late!" Mark sneered, catching Adam out of the corner of his eye. "You think I didn't go straight to her to clear it up once I found out? She's already left the hospital, and her phone's off. Who knows if that bombshell you dropped sent her spiraling! You'd better hope she's okay—'cause if she's not, it's all on you!"
"I'm going to find her!" Meredith bolted up and ran out.
She had to find her. What if the woman did something drastic—like took her own life? That'd be an innocent person gone, all because of this.
"Hmph!"
Having chased Meredith off, Mark didn't leave. Instead, he pulled up a chair and plopped down, smirking at an annoyed Christina and a calm Adam. "These residents nowadays, huh? Back in our day, someone like her wouldn't even dream of making resident! Right, Dr. Duncan?"
"Yep, I agree," Adam nodded.
Meredith's performance? Honestly, she was nowhere near the level of a legit resident. It wasn't her technical skills that were the problem—it was her attitude. Even after a year of training, she'd moved past dumb newbie mistakes like puncturing a patient's heart with a fingernail. But her first time leading an intern, and she pulls a blunder this ridiculous? Speechless. 😑
"She's just like that old geezer under her—both of 'em are childish, green interns with zero experience," Mark leaned back, grinning mockingly. "Only difference? She slept with Derek, and she's your buddy."
"Don't forget to tell that to the director," Adam said coolly. "I bet he'd love to hear it. Might even admire your 'upstanding integrity' so much he'd push hard to make you the next surgical director…"
As Mark's face darkened, Adam kept going. "Oh, and you should go now, actually. The chairman's surgery went great—everyone's in a good mood. You made such a 'huge contribution' to his recovery, right? If you pitch this now, maybe the chairman'll be so impressed he'll toss his big vote your way.
The latest chapter's up on 69 Book Bar first!
With the director and the chairman backing you, that surgical director gig? Locked in!"
Meredith had been chewed out and was gone. The lesson was done. Adam didn't need to play nice with Mark anymore.
Christina watched Mark's face turn coal-black and felt a rush of glee. She politely ducked her head, covering her mouth to stifle a laugh.
She'd been there for the chairman's surgery, front and center. The real MVPs were Adam and the surgical director. Dr. Burke chipped in, monitoring the chairman's heart and tossing out updates. Dr. Shepherd did the same for the brain. Dr. Bailey, as always, stuck close to the surgical director—she'd been his go-to for years and played second assist, even with Adam around.
Mark? He'd just stood there, arms crossed, dropping "Holy shit!" and "Ewww～" like some background sound effect. Helped? Not even a little! 😂
Oh, and Meredith's biggest "connection"? It wasn't sleeping with Shepherd—it was her mom sleeping with the surgical director. To the childless director, Meredith was basically a daughter. Sure, he'd discipline her when needed, but Mark's over-the-top, humiliating rant? That was a whole different story.
Mark was talented, no doubt—great skills, big earner. But talent and platform? Those are the two legs every success story needs. Piss off the surgical director, and if he went all out, Mark'd be booted from the New York Medical Center faster than you could blink. That'd be a massive hit to his career.
For plastic surgeons in the U.S., there were only two prime spots: LA on the West Coast and NYC on the East. Both crawling with rich folks—plastic surgery heaven! Mark didn't just come to NYC from Boston to dodge his tennis buddy (who'd bought a gun after Mark slept with his wife) or to chase Montgomery. It was for his career. And this medical center? Top-tier in New York.
"Better go help your friend clean up her mess," Mark growled, standing up with a face like thunder. He tossed out the jab and stormed off.
"See you at tomorrow's seminar!" Adam's casual voice floated after him.
Mark froze for a second, then kept walking, his expression even worse than before.
(End of Chapter)