Chapter 21: Let’s Get This Over With
The bodyguards followed closely, their silent presence a stark contrast to Megan’s fiery demeanor. They exchanged brief glances but said nothing, their focus solely on keeping her safe.
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Megan’s slides struck the polished marble of Silver Oak Medical Center with a ferocity that turned heads, her steps sharp and deliberate as if each one demanded acknowledgment. Behind her, the imposing figures of her two bodyguards trailed, their presence almost militaristic. The taller of the two, a mountain of a man with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, scanned the surroundings with cold precision. The other, slightly shorter but no less intimidating, walked with the calculated movements of someone prepared for trouble. They were shadows to her storm, silent but unyielding.
Ahead, a group of medical practitioners in white coats were huddled together near a corner, their voices low and animated as they discussed something. Megan’s fiery gaze locked onto them, her sharp features set in a mask of irritation. Without hesitation, she veered toward them, her strides long and purposeful. The air around her seemed to shift, a charged mix of authority and disdain radiating from her.
As she approached, their conversation stuttered and faltered. One by one, they turned toward the woman and her guards, their previously relaxed expressions replaced with a mix of curiosity and unease.
“Which one of you is a doctor?” Megan’s voice rang out, clear and cutting. Her eyes swept over the group like a queen surveying her subjects, daring any of them to ignore her.
The practitioners exchanged glances, a ripple of confusion and silent communication passing between them. Finally, a man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties stepped forward. His salt-and-pepper hair framed a face marked with experience and weariness. He adjusted his glasses and spoke cautiously, his voice measured.
“Can we help you, ma’am?”
Megan didn’t miss a beat, her gaze narrowing. “Are you a doctor or not? I don’t have time for pleasantries.”
The man hesitated, his gaze flickering between Megan’s piercing eyes and the towering figure of the taller bodyguard, who had now stepped closer. His sheer size was enough to dwarf the doctor, but the cold intensity in his eyes was what made the man pause.
“That’s close enough,” the bodyguard said, his voice low but filled with authority. He moved forward just enough to assert dominance. “Answer what the young mistress asked you, or prepare to be moved.”
The doctor swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked between Megan and her human wall of muscle. There was no doubt in his mind that the guard wasn’t bluffing. “Yes,” he finally said, his tone clipped. “I’m a doctor.”
“Good,” Megan said, her arms folding across her chest as she tilted her head slightly. “I’ve had a migraine for the past few days, and it’s not going away. I want an immediate solution. I want it gone now.”
The doctor’s lips pressed into a thin line, his face betraying a flicker of annoyance that he quickly masked. He exhaled slowly and gestured for the bodyguard to step aside. “If you’ll allow me to examine your madam,” he said, his tone professional but firm.
The taller guard turned to Megan, awaiting her directive. With a slight nod from her, he stepped back, creating enough space for the doctor to approach. The man adjusted his glasses again as he leaned in, gently holding Megan’s eyelid open to inspect her eye. Megan didn’t flinch, though her glare never wavered.
“Have you been sleeping well?” the doctor asked, his tone clinical.
“Yes, of course,” Megan snapped, her impatience evident.
The doctor stepped back, his hands falling to his sides. “We’ll need to run some tests,” he said. “Our nurses can handle—”
“Nurses?” Megan interrupted, her voice rising with incredulity. “You mean those incompetent people I saw when I walked in here? Absolutely not.”
The doctor’s brow furrowed, his expression hardening. “Ma’am, our nurses are highly qualified professionals. They—”
“I don’t care how ‘qualified’ those fools are,” Megan spat, the air around her bristling with indignation. “Why can’t a doctor do it?”
“You can’t address our staff like that,” the doctor said, his tone losing some of its earlier politeness.
Megan took a step forward, her eyes blazing. “Oh, I just did. What are you going to do about it?”
The doctor stared at her, his jaw tightening. He seemed to weigh his options before replying, “We would politely ask you not to do it again.”
Megan let out a sharp, irritated hiss, her hand gesturing dismissively. “I can’t let a nurse run tests on me,” she said, as if the very idea was beneath her.
“That’s the protocol, ma’am,” the doctor replied evenly, though there was a subtle edge to his voice now. “Our nurses are more than capable—”
“Then change the goddamn rules for me!” Megan’s voice rose to a near shout, her frustration boiling over.
For a moment, the corridor seemed to hold its breath. The tension between them was palpable, the surrounding staff frozen in place as they tried to blend into the background. The doctor studied Megan, his eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to take her measure. It was clear she wasn’t someone accustomed to hearing the word “no.”
“Fine,” he said at last, his voice laced with reluctant resignation. “I’ll handle the tests myself.”
Megan’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Good. Let's be fast about it, I don't have all day."
The doctor then turned to his colleagues, who had been watching the exchange with varying degrees of disbelief. “We’ll have to continue this discussion another time,” he said curtly. Without waiting for a response, he turned back to Megan and gestured down the hallway. “Follow me.”
Megan didn’t hesitate, the soft slap of her slides against the floor echoing as she strode after him. Carlos's men followed closely, their expressions unreadable but their movements precise. The other practitioners exchanged glances before dispersing, murmurs of speculation trailing in their wake.
The doctor led the group to a private examination room, the walls painted in soft, calming hues of blue. He held the door open, his movements sharp and efficient. Megan entered first, her gaze sweeping over the room with thinly veiled disdain.
“Take a seat,” the doctor instructed, gesturing to the examination table.
Megan did so, her posture rigid and her expression one of barely concealed irritation. One of the guards stationed himself by the door, his broad shoulders effectively blocking the frame. The other stood near the corner of the room, his arms crossed as his sharp eyes scanned the space.
The doctor moved with practiced ease, preparing the necessary equipment. Megan watched him closely, her fingers tapping impatiently against the armrest of her seat. The tension in the room was thick, the silence broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional clink of metal instruments.
“Let’s get this over with,” Megan said, her voice dripping with impatience.