Chapter 5: Guilty in Their Eyes

"Mr. Hall, we’re here to speak for the people. If you’ve suffered any injustice, please tell us. We’ll make sure your voice is heard and help you seek justice."

The reporter’s voice came from off-camera, holding the mic close to Ethan.

The camera zoomed in on Ethan’s trembling hands. The reporter’s tone was sympathetic, the kind that makes anyone look like David against Goliath.

"I want to report that Andrew Monroe illegally accepted bribes and demanded a payoff from my family."

Ethan’s eyes widened as he spoke loudly.

The accusation echoed in the small office. My pulse jumped—caught somewhere between disbelief and dread. I forced myself to keep watching, even as my throat went dry.

"Mr. Hall, as far as we know, Dr. Andrew Monroe is a renowned neurosurgeon in the U.S. Do you have solid evidence for this accusation?"

The reporter pressed him.

The tone was firm, but I could sense the story already taking shape—a scandal with my name on it. I could already picture the hashtags and angry Facebook posts.

"I have proof."

Ethan pulled a piece of paper from his hospital gown pocket and held it up for the camera.

"This is the receipt for the $1,400 the hospital required before surgery.

The doctor explained that this was a specialist consult fee—a private payment to Dr. Monroe. Isn’t that just a payoff?

This money wasn’t included in the hospital’s official charges and couldn’t be covered by insurance.

I paid all the treatment and surgery fees to the hospital. To get treated, my family was already broke.

With this illness, my mom and I have suffered enough. Why did Dr. Monroe still want this $1,400?

If we didn’t pay, he wouldn’t do the surgery, and I wouldn’t get treated. My mom had to scrape the money together somehow.

I can understand the hospital charging for treatment and surgery, but isn’t it a doctor’s duty to save lives? Why charge extra?

Is the relationship between doctors and patients really just about money?"

Ethan shook the receipt, his voice nearly breaking.

He was on the verge of tears, his hand shaking so hard the paper fluttered. It was a hell of a picture for the evening news—a young man, broken by illness, pointing a finger at the big, bad doctor. I could already feel the tidal wave of outrage headed my way.

The video ended there.

My breath caught in my throat as the screen faded to black. My mind raced, searching for something—anything—that would explain how a routine, aboveboard fee had become a public scandal.

I cured Ethan, he recovered—and then turned around and reported me?

It felt like a punch to the gut. I’d given everything I had to save him—and now, this.

"This video was posted online just this morning, Dr. Monroe. This is a serious problem."

Dr. Sanders sighed, his tone grave.

His fingers drummed anxiously on the table. Ms. Lee wouldn’t meet my eyes. I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples.

"Dr. Sanders, isn’t it normal to charge an extra fee for out-of-town consults or surgeries? When the other hospital invited me, they clearly stated there would be a $1,400 specialist fee, and after I got back, I reported it to medical affairs."

I explained quickly. About the specialist fee, I hadn’t broken any rules—how could this be a problem?

I kept my voice even, but inside I was burning with frustration. Everything had been documented, filed, reported. I’d done it by the book—like always.

"After Dr. Monroe returned, he did report it to medical affairs. There are records."

Dr. Hayes nodded.

He was flipping through a thick file, every form in order. But the lines on his face told me it didn’t matter—not really.

"You just don’t get it."

"Dr. Monroe, I know you accepted the specialist fee by the book, but what about public perception?

This is the information age—news spreads in seconds. If I’ve seen this video, so have thousands of others.

In the video, that patient Ethan Hall plays the victim to get sympathy, making a huge deal out of the $1,400.

The difficulty and high cost of medical care is already a sore spot for the public.

Whether the fee was justified or not, in the eyes of the public, it looks like bribery, like taking a payoff."

Dr. Sanders anxiously slapped the table.

A cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

Anger and betrayal crashed over me in waves—my mind numb, my chest tight. I remembered Ethan’s mother clutching my hand, her gratitude so fierce it had nearly dropped her to the floor. How did we get from desperate hope to this?

I could feel my world tilting, the rules shifting under my feet. It wasn’t about right or wrong—it was about optics, about the story people wanted to believe. My hands had saved his life. Now, those same hands felt stained. I wasn’t sure which cut deeper—the accusation, or the silence from the people who should’ve had my back.