Daniel Brooks needed his hospital paycheck to help his mother pay rent

Marcus Vance sank to his knees, the tiles cold beneath his trousers, his hands clasped together in frantic supplication.

"Mr. Miller... please... sir, listen to me," Vance wept, his voice pitching into a shrill, humiliating shriek. "I didn't know! The board sent down directives on debt-reduction last quarter! We were told to eliminate uninsured operating losses! I was just protecting the network’s fiscal solvency! I have a family—"

"You were protecting your annual performance bonus, Vance," Walter interrupted, his voice dropping into a register of icy, absolute finality that echoed off the high glass walls. "I read the quarterly operational audits before I embarked on this journey. You personally authored the policy memorandum requiring minimum upfront deposits for emergency surgical evaluations—a direct, flagrant violation of the Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act, and a violation of the foundational covenant of this endowment."

Walter turned to Dr. Helena Cross.

"Helena."

"Yes, Mr. Miller?" the CEO replied instantly, her posture rigid.

"Mr. Vance is stripped of his title, his administrative authority, and his access credentials, effective this second," Walter commanded. "His employment is terminated for cause—specifically, systemic civil rights violations and gross ethical malfeasance. His severance package is nullified under the moral turpitude clause of his executive contract."

Vance let out a choked, strangled wail, burying his face in his hands.

"Furthermore," Walter added, glancing at the two Chicago police officers standing near the revolving doors, "officers, please take Mr. Vance into custody. Our legal counsel has prepared three binders documenting twelve instances where patients turned away by Mr. Vance’s billing directives suffered severe medical complications or death. The Cook County State’s Attorney will be receiving those files by dawn."

The two officers stepped forward, clicking a pair of stainless-steel handcuffs off their utility belts. Within seconds, Marcus Vance was hauled to his feet, weeping hysterically, his wingtip shoes dragging along the terrazzo floor as he was marched through the glass doors and into the pouring rain.

The lobby fell into an eerie, profound stillness.

Walter turned around, his eyes locking onto Daniel Brooks, who was still standing beside the desk, clutching the back of his chair, completely overwhelmed by the seismic shift that had just annihilated his supervisor and rewritten the reality of his hospital.