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Medical Center.
Adam stepped out of surgery and got the news about the teaching hospital rankings. He was a bit shocked. Fourth place? Really?
"Adam, did you hear? We're only fourth," Cristina griped the second she saw him.
"Fourth's solid! It's top ten—almost cracked the top three…" Meredith chimed in casually. But her words trailed off as Adam and Cristina gave her weird looks.
"What?" Meredith snapped, annoyed.
"Nothing," Cristina said, glancing away. As her bestie, she didn't want to pile on.
"Meredith, watch yourself for a while," Adam warned kindly. "The director's probably in a rotten mood—don't get in his crosshairs."
"…" Meredith's face darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Adam just smiled, saying nothing.
The medical center had top-tier doctors and a stellar rep—especially this year. So why not top three? It had to be the interns' overall performance. This was a teaching hospital ranking, after all. Intern quality reflected teaching outcomes. Meredith was decent, but compared to the star interns at the top three hospitals? Probably not cutting it. And then there were wild cards like Devil Sadie—prime examples of "quality" (or lack thereof) transfers. Sadie wasn't alone; the top three likely had their own flops too. But they must've managed them better. Higher "quality" slackers, maybe?
The surgical director—after his earlier "jinx" in front of Adam—was reeling from this blow. He'd reflect, and the blame? He'd have to own it. Without his approval, flops like Sadie wouldn't even get a shot here. Once he sorted it out, beyond self-blame, he'd target the dead weight. If he still had any ambition, he'd act. And sure enough, Adam nailed it.
The Next Day.
A "shadow director" emerged. Med students shadowing a doctor or department they liked was normal—tagging along 24/7, observing silently to get a deep dive into their field of interest. It helped them pick a path fast. Now, the surgical director was playing shadow—and for most interns and residents, it was like having the devil on their tail.
Picture it: a towering figure in a white coat, arms crossed, stone-faced, watching from afar. Dim the lights a bit, and you've got a horror flick vibe. The Floating White Coat! Spooky, right? 😱
ER.
Sadie was fumbling an IV on a patient. Three tries, three yelps from the poor guy, and still no luck. Meredith spotted the director's looming shadow growing darker and rushed over to coach her. When the needle finally slid in, Sadie sighed in relief, flashing her bestie a grateful look.
"Dr. Luther, you can't handle a basic procedure like this?" the director barked, calling her over. Away from the patient but in full view of the staff, he laid into her. "What'd you learn in med school? The Three Kingdoms and yoga?"
The staff nearly cracked up but caught Meredith's glare and warning look. They sobered up fast. If even Sadie Luther—with her connections—got chewed out like this, what chance did they have?
Devil Sadie stared at the director, stunned. She couldn't believe he'd call her out so publicly.
"Step it up, Dr. Luther," he said, fixing her with a hard look. "If this happens again, I'm sorry, but the medical center's a place with big dreams—always aiming for number one! We can handle failure after effort. But we're done with coasting slackers!" He turned and walked off, ignoring her sour expression.
Before, he'd never have done this. But Adam had given him backbone. Sadie's connections might grumble, but as long as he waved the "keep Dr. Duncan and chase the top spot" flag, the board would back him—maybe even her own backers. Adam's fame and profit, plus the prestige of being number one? The board couldn't resist that. No one would tank everyone's big payday for a lazy trust-fund kid.
"Watch out," Cristina said, strolling up to Meredith after enjoying Sadie's flop. She echoed Adam's warning with a serious nod. "The director's not messing around."
"You think I'm useless too, like Adam?" Meredith huffed.
"Not just you," Cristina said bluntly. "Except for me, you're all dragging Adam down."
"…" Meredith nearly choked on her anger.
But soon, she couldn't stay mad—Adam and Cristina's warnings came true too fast.
That Night.
After assisting in surgery, Meredith reported to the director. "Sir, Vincent Klaar got 31 units of fresh frozen plasma and liters of cyclophosphamide. We did everything—still couldn't save him."
The director stared at her, then looked away, shaking his head. His tone was icy and furious. "You're useless—completely incompetent!" He locked eyes with her again, tearing in. "You've been here over a year and act like staying is a given. Wrong, Dr. Grey! Dead wrong! You're here because of me! You answer to me, and all I ask is you save patients. You can't even do that!!!"
"Richard," Shepherd cut in, noticing the commotion. He'd let the director vent at his girlfriend, but as it got harsher, he stepped up. "Not every patient can be saved. Adam can't do it, no one can."
"But Adam tries hard enough," the director shot back. "We should too!"
Word spread like wildfire. The staff got it—the director meant business. Chewing out Sadie was a warning to connected docs. Ripping into Meredith? That was for everyone, himself included. Everyone knew the childless director saw Meredith as a daughter figure. Slashing at her like this? His resolve and ruthlessness shook them all.
(End of Chapter)