Chapter 6: His Move
The statement was four paragraphs long.
Grace read it aloud while Daniel pulled it up on his laptop so we could all see it.
Andrew's publicist had moved fast — the statement was already on two medical news sites and his professional social media accounts, timestamped less than thirty minutes after he had walked off that stage.
*It is with deep disappointment that I address the events of this evening.
What occurred at the Carter Foundation Gala was not a principled stand — it was a coordinated attack on my reputation, orchestrated by a disgruntled former employee whose personal grievances have unfortunately been given a platform they do not deserve.*
*The complaints referenced by Mr.
Carter were reviewed and dismissed by the appropriate channels.
To characterize them otherwise is a deliberate misrepresentation of fact.*
*I have dedicated thirty years to the patients of this city.
My record speaks for itself.
I will not allow it to be destroyed by someone with a personal agenda and access to a microphone.*
*I am consulting with my legal team and will be pursuing all available remedies.
I ask that the media exercise restraint and responsibility before repeating unverified allegations.*
Grace set her phone down.
"He didn't deny the complaints existed," Daniel said.
"No," Grace said.
"He said they were reviewed and dismissed.
Which is a different claim, and one we can disprove." She looked at me.
"He called you a disgruntled former employee."
"I'm not former," I said.
"I still work here."
"He knows that.
He's trying to establish a narrative before you can." Grace leaned back.
"This is what he does when he's cornered.
He moves first and loudly, and he counts on the other side being too shocked to respond quickly."
My phone was still downstairs on the table in the ballroom.
I had left it there deliberately.
But I knew, with absolute certainty, that it was full of messages right now.
"What does he mean by all available remedies?" I asked.
"Defamation, most likely," Grace said.
"He'll threaten a lawsuit against the foundation and possibly against you personally.
It almost certainly won't go anywhere — truth is a complete defense and we have documentation — but the threat is designed to frighten you into silence."
"It won't."
Grace looked at me steadily.
"I believe you.
But I want you to understand what the next few weeks may look like.
His allies will start making calls.
Some of them are people with real influence.
There will be pressure on the foundation, on Mr.
Carter's business relationships, possibly on your professional reputation.
He will try to make this painful enough that walking away seems easier than continuing."
"He's been making my life painful for fourteen months," I said.
"I'm not walking away."
Ethan spoke for the first time since we had sat down.
"Patricia Osei is willing to go on record," he said.
"She told me tonight she's been waiting for someone to open this door." He looked at Grace.
"How quickly can we get her statement formalized?"
"Tomorrow morning if she's available," Grace said.
"Combined with the original complaint documents she kept, that gives us a strong foundation to take to the Medical Board formally." She paused.
"Ms.
Sinclair, if you are willing to add your own account — not tonight, not rushed, but in the next few days — that changes the weight of this significantly."
"I'm willing."
"Then we move carefully and we move together," Grace said.
"He issued a public statement tonight because he's afraid.
Afraid people are going to keep talking.
Afraid the three complainants are going to come forward." She looked at her notes.
"Are they?
Do you know?"
"I don't know them," I said.
"I only learned they existed two hours ago."
"We'll reach out through proper channels tomorrow." Grace gathered her papers.
"For tonight — do you have somewhere safe to go?
Not your shared residence with Dr.
Vaughn."
The word *shared* landed strangely.
I had been living in Andrew's apartment for eight months.
My name was not on the lease.
My clothes were there.
My books.
The small framed photograph of my mother that I kept on the nightstand.
"I'll find somewhere," I said.
"You don't have to find somewhere," Ethan said quietly.
I looked at him.
"Carter Tower has a guest floor.
It's used for visiting executives and board members.
It's secure, it's private, and it's empty tonight." He held my gaze.
"No obligation.
No conditions.
You can leave whenever you want."
"Ethan—"
"You left your phone downstairs on purpose," he said.
"Which means some part of you already knew you weren't going back there tonight."
I didn't answer, because he was right.
Grace stood and extended her hand.
"Get some rest, Ms.
Sinclair.
Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
I shook her hand.
Daniel nodded from across the table.
Ethan walked me to the elevator.
We stood side by side waiting for the doors to open, and neither of us spoke, and it wasn't uncomfortable — it was the particular silence of two people who have said enough for one night and both know it.
The elevator arrived.
"Ethan," I said.
"Yes."
"The fourth complaint he never counted on you finding." I looked at him.
"Was it me?"
The doors opened.
He stepped in beside me.
"No," he said.
"It was someone much closer to him than you." He pressed the button for the guest floor.
"Her name is Dr.
Sandra Okafor.
She's his surgical resident.
She filed the complaint six weeks ago." He paused.
"She's twenty-six years old and she filed it alone, with no one to back her up, and she has been waiting every day since to find out if anyone was going to listen."
The elevator rose in silence.
"She's coming in tomorrow morning," Ethan said.
"I'd like you to be there when she arrives.
Not to pressure her.
Just so she knows she isn't the only one."
May you like
I looked at the floor numbers climbing above the door.
"I'll be there," I said.
