"I heard you joined this hospital," Marianne said, her voice flat and scornful, like she was commenting on a stain. "Still as arrogant, overrated and self absorbed as ever."
Devon lifted his gaze, letting it travel over her with deliberate slowness, and landed back on her face with a smirk. "Still as power drunk and venomous. You age well, hatred must be preserving you."
Marianne smiled. "It's easy to preserve yourself when you're not rotting on the inside."
Pierce stood behind his desk, stiff as stone, watching like someone stuck between a political minefield and a live grenade.
"Also still full of yourself, Chancellor," he said, letting the title fall from his mouth like it tasted wrong. "And allergic to facts, apparently."
Marianne's brow arched, slow and disdainful. "Facts? Is that what you call whatever nonsense you were ranting about you walked in?"
"I wasn't ranting," Devon said flatly. "I was stating that the imaging machines in this hospital are outdated by at least six years. Radiology's a mess. Half the instruments in the surgical wing are due for replacement, and that's not just my opinion. It's backed by data. But sure, let's keep pretending your little ivory tower view from the boardroom qualifies you to tell anyone what works down here."
"You insufferable little prick," Marianne said, her tone pure venom now. "You walk in here like you know everything. Like this hospital wasn't functioning before you graced us with your precious presence."
Devon's smirk was slow, deliberate, and ugly. "Functioning?" he repeated, pushing off the frame, stepping closer into the room. "If this place is 'functioning,' then I'm a fucking saint. Patients are waiting twice as long for diagnostics. Nurses are short-staffed. Don't throw your chancellor credentials at me like it means you actually give a damn."
"I give a damn about discipline," she snapped, rising to her feet now, and suddenly the air shifted again. She was taller than most women, taller even than Devon remembered.
Devon stared at the woman like she was an unsolvable equation.
How the hell was she in her fifties? That was the question he always had in mind whenever he came into contact with the woman.
It didn't make sense. There was no softness of age, no sign of time even pulling at her. She looked like lust dipped in elegance, sin in a silk blouse. That body didn't just defy logic, it declared war on it.
Thick thighs, a waist that dipped like an hourglass that ran on attitude, and a face that hadn't forgotten how to be stunning even when it looked like it wanted to slap him.
And it probably did.
She glared at him with fire behind her lashes. The kind of look that burned. Not the heat of attraction that had come and gone long ago no, this was older. It was bitter, deep and intense.
The kind of hate you only earned after making someone's daughter cry.
Which, to be fair, he had.
She still hated him. That very much was obvious in the way her eyes drilled into his skull.
"You've been here five minutes, and you're already lecturing the people keeping this place running. Typical."
"I've been here long enough to see the cracks," Devon said. "Just because you're sitting on the board doesn't mean you're not part of the problem."
"And just because you learned to use a scalpel without cutting your own fingers off doesn't make you a visionary," she shot back. "You're a surgeon, not a strategist. You see one problem and start barking. Real leaders, adult, understand the system before they try to tear it down."
He narrowed his eyes. "So your solution is to keep everything broken while you sit pretty on your throne?"
"My solution," she said, voice tightening, "is to not hand matches to the first fool who screams fire."
Devon's jaw ticked. "I'm here to help. Maybe if you stepped out of your boardroom bubble, you'd see that."
"And maybe," she said, stepping forward now, "if you weren't constantly trying to prove something, you'd know the difference between helping and grandstanding."
He snorted. "You don't want help. You want control."
"No," she said sharply. "I want competence. I want professionals who understand nuance. Not little boys playing savior with a God complex and a chip on their shoulder."
"And you don't protect patients by protecting your damn reputation," Devon snapped. "This place needs upgrades. It needs people who'll speak up instead of hiding behind titles and red tape."
"Don't lecture me about titles," she said, voice low and sharp enough to cut. "I've been running medical boards since you were still screwing up your fellowship rotations."
The insult landed, and Devon's jaw clenched. "And yet you still have no clue how to spot a crisis when it's staring you in the face."
"I spot problems just fine," she said. "Especially when they come swaggering into my hospital acting like they know everything."
"This hospital doesn't belong to you, Marianne."
"Doesn't it?" she said. "Because last I checked, it didn't belong to you either. You're just another overconfident doctor with something to prove and nowhere else to do it."
Devon took one step closer, voice dropping. "I'm here to save lives. Not to kiss rings."
She leaned in, voice low and silken. "You don't scare me. You never did. And if you think anyone here is going to hand you respect just because you bark louder than the rest, you're more delusional than I gave you credit for."
Silence.
Pierce looked between them, frozen in place.
Devon stood there for a second too long, jaw clenched, breath shallow, the words sitting on his tongue but refusing to rise.
He glanced at Pierce, who still hadn't moved, as if afraid that breathing too loudly would draw attention. The tension was unbearable now.
Marianne didn't look at Devon anymore.
She just turned back to Pierce and said, calm as ever, "If this is the kind of energy you're bringing into your staff, I hope you're also budgeting for fallout."
Then she glanced at Devon once more, eyes cool and devastating. "Enjoy your time here, Doctor. I doubt it'll be long."
Devon glared at her.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, a short, bitter sound that was almost a laugh. "Right," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Should've known better than to expect a discussion with you in the picture."
Marianne's voice floated out behind him as he turned to leave, perfectly timed, soft and lethal.
"Careful, Doctor. The deeper you dig, the more people start to realize you've got nothing to stand on."
Devon paused in the doorway, just for a breath. He didn't turn around, when suddenly a notification suddenly came in.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Objective: Engage in sexual intercourse with Marianne Voss within 30 days.
Target: Marianne Voss – High Chancellor, Age 53.
Mission Timer: 30 Days [29:23:59 remaining]
Reward:
– +15% Surgical Precision (permanent)
– Unlock: "Cold Read" – Gain insight into a patient's mental/emotional state during consultation.
– Bonus Reward if Target initiates contact.
Warning: Failure to complete may result in decreased Professional Reputation (–10% Hospital Influence).
A smile soon formed on his face then he walked out.
The door clicked shut behind him.
And inside, Marianne stood tall and unbothered, brushing a nonexistent wrinkle from her sleeve as she looked to Pierce with a small, satisfied smile.
"Now," she said smoothly, "let's continue."