I told him Charlotte had let a civilian pose as medical staff to stay overnight—a serious violation that had to be stopped immediately.
Kevin was knitting a scarf for Charlotte. He didn't even look up.
"Brooklyn, you're too sensitive. Charlotte's childhood friend just came to keep her company. She's a young girl—she gets scared working nights. Stop targeting her."
"But he's unlicensed, and she posted it online. If something happens—"
He cut me off. "What could happen? Rules are dead; people are alive. You want to make a big deal out of it? Ruin her future over nothing?"
"Charlotte's just posting for fun. She knows her limits. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill."
His favoritism was a blade twisting in my chest.
I reported it to leadership anyway.
When the nursing department came to check, her childhood friend had already slipped away. They found nothing.
Charlotte cried like a rain-soaked flower, insisting it was just a friend delivering milk tea—that I was maliciously framing her.
Kevin publicly accused me of being jealous that the intern was young and popular.
The matter was dropped.
Later, he became convinced my report was what got Charlotte killed.
He lured me to an abandoned clinic in the suburbs.
Together with that punk, they used my life—and my child's—as an offering to Charlotte.
"Charlotte going alone is too lonely. You and the baby can keep her company."
…
"Brooklyn, you're crying?" Bella asked, panicked, handing me a tissue.
My voice came out hoarse. "Just tired. Charlotte's on duty tonight—have security keep an eye on things."
Bella nodded and muttered, "Brooklyn, Charlotte just brought her thug friend into the changing room again."
"He almost saw us half-naked. I told her that wasn't appropriate, and she just rolled her eyes at me."
I looked toward the end of the hallway.
A tall figure slipped past, the tattoos on his arms looking fierce and wild.
Before, I would've rushed over without hesitation. I would've driven him out and enforced the rules on the spot.
But now, I slowly sat back down.
I took a sip of the red date ginger tea my brother made for me and said flatly, "Those who dig their own graves will fall into them eventually. As for everything else—see less, say less, get involved less."
Bella froze, then smiled and nodded. "Got it. I'm heading home first. You should rest early too."
Dealing with smart people really is easier.