My Secret Husband Is My Cold Boss novel Chapter 26

Dr. Franklin had the first surgery of the day and left early.

Once he was gone, the volume in the office finally returned to normal.

The doctor who had taken the most brutal verbal beating sighed heavily. "Other departments only do rounds twice a week. Dr. Franklin is way too strict."

A colleague comforted him, "That's because we handle major surgeries. Look at Cardiothoracic, they do rounds every day too."

Belonging to the same cardiac center, the surgical side had just received a newly parachuted director.

He had quickly become the hospital's hottest topic of conversation.

Someone asked curiously, "Hey, do you think when Director Sanders leads rounds, he's as terrifying as Dr. Franklin?"

Dr. Franklin was older, incredibly experienced, and had a nasty temper. Whenever he looked at his students, it gave off the vibe of a veteran player looking at absolute noobs in a starting zone.

Director Sanders was different. He was the youngest chief physician in the history of the cardiac center, and everyone was dying to know what it was like to be grilled by him.

"I actually heard about this."

A nurse walked in to get Wendy's signature, caught the tail end of the gossip, and chimed in. "The group chat said the cardiothoracic department did their teaching rounds entirely in English today."

"..."

The doctors who had just been envying the surgical department collectively gasped.

Someone stubbornly asked, "Did anyone get yelled at?"

"No yelling, actually."

The nurse flipped to the page Wendy needed to sign. "The girls in the chat said Dr. Sanders just has a bit of a sharp tongue, but he doesn't shout."

Everyone was intrigued. "How sharp?"

The nurse thought about it. "Well... like when Dr. Thorne was giving a slightly too optimistic prognosis, Dr. Sanders told him that if he wanted to rely on miracles, he should go pray at a temple instead of coming to a hospital. Does that count?"

...

It absolutely counted.

The whole room exchanged glances, suddenly feeling a deep wave of sympathy for Dr. Wesley Thorne.

Having eaten nothing all day and standing for two hours in a twenty-pound lead apron, cold sweat drenched her back as she walked to the ward.

The digital clock read 18:48.

The hallway was empty, the workspace unusually quiet.

Passing the nurses' station, the mid-shift nurse saw how pale Wendy looked and called out, "Chief Gates, is your blood sugar low?"

"I just ordered takeout. Come have a bite."

"It's fine," Wendy shook her head.

A dull ache twisted in her lower abdomen. "My period is probably about to start. I'll just go sleep it off."

The cardiology department had a lot of nighttime emergencies. Since the early evening was quiet, she just wanted to sleep.

Groggy and exhausted, Wendy slept straight through until 11:30 PM.

The on-call phone jolted her awake. "Chief Gates, emergency transfer consultation!"