Chapter Twelve: The Temporary Reinstatement
The medical board hearing took place two months later.
Not one week.
Not magically.
Two months of sworn statements, forensic audits, hospital subpoenas, and Matteo’s testimony from protective custody.
Skylar wore navy blue.
Not red.
Red belonged to blood and ballrooms.
Navy belonged to courtrooms, hospitals, and women who no longer begged institutions to recognize what they had stolen.
Her father sat behind her in a wheelchair. Carmela sat beside him, pearls at her throat and a folder in her lap. She had insisted on coming.
Dominic sat two rows back.
The cane rested against his knee.
He hated it.
Skylar liked that.
The board chairwoman cleared her throat.
“Dr. Gallagher, new evidence has been reviewed.”
Skylar kept her hands still.
“Some evidence.”
The woman looked up.
Skylar continued.
“Full review is ongoing.”
The chairwoman’s mouth tightened.
“Yes.”
“Then say that clearly.”
Dominic’s lawyer shifted beside her.
He had not prepared for that.
Dominic had.
Skylar felt his gaze behind her.
Not controlling.
Witnessing.
The chairwoman glanced at the file.
“The board is prepared to issue a temporary reinstatement pending final public exoneration and independent review.”
Skylar did not smile.
“That is not enough.”
A board member frowned.
“It is procedurally significant.”
“So was my destruction.”
Silence.
Her father’s breath trembled behind her.
Skylar placed another folder on the table.
Inside were names.
Donors.
Judges.
Altered records.
Payments routed through Lorenzo’s shells.
“My clinic treated people your hospital turned away. Some died because I was removed from operating rooms. You do not fix that with temporary language.”
The chairwoman’s face paled.
“What are you requesting?”
“Temporary reinstatement today. Public correction within thirty days. Independent review of all donor-influenced disciplinary decisions. Written apology after final findings.”
“That is extensive.”
“So was the lie.”
The hearing lasted three hours.
Skylar did not cry.
Not when Matteo’s deposition played.
Not when her father lowered his head.
Not when Dominic closed his eyes at the recording of his own silence five years ago.
At the end, the board signed.
Temporary reinstatement.
Immediate right to practice under review.
Public statement pending final exoneration.
Not victory.
The first incision.
Outside, reporters shouted her name.
Dr. Gallagher.
Not Penny.
Not scandal.
Not mistress.
Her name.
Dominic stood by the car, holding the door open.
He did not tell her to enter.
He only waited.
Skylar walked past the open door.
His hand tightened.
He did not move.
She turned back.
“I am going to my clinic.”
He nodded.
“Of course.”
“You are not driving.”
“I did not ask.”
“You were thinking loudly.”
A faint smile.
“May I sit in the passenger seat?”
Skylar looked at the cane.
At the man learning to ask.
Then she held out the keys.
“No.”
His face changed.
She tossed them to him.
“You may drive slowly.”
He caught them.
For once, Dominic Rossi looked almost afraid.
Good.
