“He is stable right now?”
“He has been coughing since four this morning.”
“Has he collapsed?”
“No.”
“Any blue color around his gums?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“A triage question.”
Victoria stared.
“No.”
The receptionist nodded.
“That’s good. We’ll have a technician check his vitals immediately.”
Victoria removed her sunglasses.
“I am not here for a technician.”
Maya turned then.
The receptionist saw her and looked relieved.
Maya walked over.
“Good morning.”
Victoria looked her up and down.
Maya recognized the expression.
People had used versions of it on her since medical school.
Assessment first.
Classification second.
Respect, maybe later.
“You work here?”
Victoria asked.
“Today.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Maya smiled faintly.
“How can I help Oliver?”
Victoria looked down at the dog.
“He needs his cardiologist.”
“Dr. Patel is with an unstable patient.”
Victoria’s eyes sharpened.
“I booked Dr. Patel.”
Maya glanced toward the chart displayed on the desk screen.
“No appointment was booked.”
Victoria gave a short laugh.
“My assistant spoke to someone.”
The receptionist quietly said:
“She called at seven-fifty. We explained it would be emergency triage.”
Victoria turned toward her.
“I wasn't talking to you.”
Maya noticed the receptionist flinch.
Very small.
Enough.
Maya stepped slightly closer.
“She was answering the question.”
Victoria looked back at Maya.
“And you are?”
“Maya.”
No title.
No surname.
Victoria waited.
Maya did not add anything.
The silence irritated her.
“Maya what?”
“Brooks.”
Something passed through Victoria's expression.
No recognition.
Interesting.
Maya’s photograph had appeared in industry publications, but she deliberately avoided making herself the public face of the company.
The hospitals mattered.
Not her.
Most clients knew the company name.
Very few knew the woman who owned the controlling share.
Victoria shifted Oliver again.
“Fine.”
She looked toward Maya’s scrubs.
“Maya Brooks, whatever you do here, I need you to find Dr. Patel.”
“She’s treating a dog with internal bleeding.”
“That isn't my problem.”
Maya's expression changed.
It was subtle.
The receptionist noticed.
Victoria did not.
“No.”
Maya said quietly.
“It isn't.”
Victoria seemed pleased to hear agreement.
Then Maya continued:
“It’s Dr. Patel’s problem.”