That was enough.
It wasn’t suspicion anymore.
It was a signal.
That same afternoon, Santiago was asked to step into the medical director’s office.
“Mr. Bennett,” the director began carefully, folding his hands on the desk, “we’ve identified some irregularities in recent medication orders.”
Santiago’s expression remained composed.
“Irregularities?”
“Certain medications were administered that don’t align with the patient’s diagnosis. The approvals… carry your authorization.”
A pause.
“I trusted the medical staff,” Santiago replied smoothly.
The director nodded slowly.
“Interestingly,” he continued, “since those medications were discontinued, the patient’s condition has improved.”
Silence filled the room, heavy and deliberate.
Santiago’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Are you suggesting something?”
“We’re reviewing the facts,” the director said evenly.
When Santiago left the office, something had shifted.
The confidence was still there—but it was thinner now. Tighter. Controlled.
That night, he entered Olivia’s room without greeting her.
No softness. No performance.
“What did you tell them?” he asked.
Olivia looked at him steadily, her fear replaced by something stronger.
“The truth.”
His expression hardened.
“No one will believe you,” he said. “You were sedated.”
“Not enough,” she replied quietly.
He took a step back, studying her as if seeing her for the first time.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
A small pause.
“Yes,” she said. “Now I do.”
At that moment, the door opened.
“Mr. Bennett,” a nurse said, her tone professional but firm, “your visitation privileges are suspended while the investigation is ongoing.”
His composure cracked—just slightly.
“This is ridiculous.”
“It’s a precaution.”
He turned back to Olivia, his eyes sharp, voice low.
