Chapter 303

Chapter 303
TAMARA

ONE YEAR LATER…

“What do you think happened to our budget last year, Nurse Cannighan?”

I lifted my gaze slowly, meeting the sharp gray eyes of my overall boss, the director of the main office branch. Mrs. Sullivan never wasted words when she was angry, and right now, irritation sat on her face like a warning sign.

She tapped the file in front of her once, twice. “It states here that a significant amount of money was approved for the remodeling of the nursing home. Yet, somehow, we have no detailed records of the work done. No full documentation. No clear audit trail.”

A pause.

“Am I the only one sensing foul play here?”

My eyes drifted briefly around the conference room. Every face was turned toward me—curious, skeptical, some already convinced of my guilt. I could almost feel them waiting, ready to dissect every word that came out of my mouth.

I straightened in my seat.

“I have an explanation for that, Director,” I said, keeping my voice calm, even though my pulse had begun to race.

Mrs. Sullivan leaned back slowly, folding her arms. “Pray tell, Nurse,” she replied coolly. Then she lifted her hand, thumb and index finger barely an inch apart. “Because I am this close to losing my patience.”
Her eyes hardened. “The government cannot come in here and find us mismanaging funds. Not again.”

The room fell silent.

And all eyes stayed on me.

I inhaled slowly before speaking, grounding myself.

“The funds weren’t mismanaged, Director,” I said. “They were redirected—with prior verbal approval—when the structural assessment came back worse than expected.”

A murmur rippled faintly through the room, but I kept going.

“The original budget was for cosmetic remodeling,” I explained. “Paint, minor repairs, surface-level changes. However, during the early phase of the project, we discovered severe electrical faults, compromised plumbing, and mold infestation in two wards. Continuing cosmetic work without fixing those would have been unsafe and illegal.”

Mrs. Sullivan’s expression didn’t change, but her fingers stilled on the file.

“For safety reasons,” I continued, “the contractor advised immediate remediation. The funds were used to replace wiring, reinforce weakened sections of the building, remove hazardous materials, and bring the facility back up to code. That work doesn’t always leave visible results—but it prevents disasters.”

I paused, then added, quieter but firm, “Lives were at risk.”

Silence settled again.

“I take responsibility for the missing paperwork,” I said. “The delay was due to the contractor’s failure to submit final documentation on time. I have the preliminary reports, invoices, and inspection clearances ready for review, and the complete audit file will be delivered within forty-eight hours.”

Mrs. Sullivan studied me for a long moment.

Then she exhaled slowly.

“That,” she said, closing the file, “is the first sensible explanation I’ve heard all morning.”

The tension in the room loosened, just slightly.

“See that the documents are on my desk by end of week, Nurse Baron,” she added. “And next time, don’t rely on verbal approvals. You won’t always be this lucky.”

“Yes, Director,” I replied.

She nodded once. “Meeting adjourned.”

And just like that, the room breathed again.
The tension that had coiled tightly in the air slowly unraveled, leaving behind a dull quiet that hummed in my ears. When the door finally closed, I was alone.
I didn’t move.
I sank deeper into my chair, exhaustion crashing over me all at once. My elbows rested on the table as I pressed my fingers into my eyes, rubbing hard, like I could physically push the fatigue away. My head throbbed. I hadn’t slept the night before—not really.

A knock sounded.
“Long night?”
I dropped my hands slowly and opened my eyes. Reed stood by the door, easy and familiar, concern softening his features.
I fixed my lips into a stiff smile. “You can say that again, Reed.”
He walked in and placed a paper cup of coffee in front of me, the warmth seeping into the table. The smell alone made my shoulders loosen slightly.
“Thank you,” I murmured, lifting it and taking a careful sip. The heat burned my tongue, grounding me.
He leaned back against the desk, sitting with one ass perched casually on the edge. “So,” he said, watching me closely, “how did the meeting go?”
I shrugged, my palm resting against the cup, absorbing its warmth like I needed proof I was still here. “About how you’d imagine. The Director nearly chewed my head off for not submitting the paperwork on time.”
Reed grinned, unbothered. “I told you. All she needed was an explanation. And you had plenty of that.” His eyes held mine. “If anyone could’ve pulled it off, it was you, Tamara.”
Something flickered in my chest at the way he said my name. I met his gaze and smiled back, genuine—but careful. Gratitude was all I could give him. I knew that. He knew it too, even if he wished otherwise.
The silence that settled between us wasn’t empty. It was heavy. Reed kept looking at me, his smile warm, and open—saying things his mouth didn’t dare. I shifted slightly, suddenly aware of it all, of the space between us, of what I refused to acknowledge.
I stood abruptly, gathering the folders into my arms, needing movement, needing escape. Reed glanced down at his coffee for a brief second, his lips pressing together before he looked back up.
“So,” I said lightly, forcing ease into my tone, “we still on for dinner later?”
He straightened too, rising to his full height. Even in heels, he still towered just slightly over me. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll let the others know.”

I nodded once. “Alright.”

Then I walked past him, out of the room.

The moment I stepped into the hospital lobby, I felt it.

The noise was wrong.