ALEXANDER
I parked the car in the underground garage and killed the engine. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint tapping of Dashiell's fingers against his thigh.
He hadn't stopped since we left the hospital.
I watched him for a moment before getting out. My little anomaly looked wrecked, shoulders tense, foot rubbing frantically against his ankle, eyes distant. The guilt was eating at him. I could see it in every small, restless movement.
*They dared to blame him.*
My hands tightened on the steering wheel for half a second. Elias Grant was my patient. The surgery was technically successful, the heart repair was flawless. But because of that technical glitch and the stroke, my husband was now being painted as incompetent.
Unacceptable.
I stepped out of the car and walked around to open his door. Dashiell climbed out slowly, still rocking slightly on the balls of his toes as we walked toward the elevator. The moment we stepped inside our home, he headed straight for the living room without a word.
I followed.
He went directly to the large aquarium in the corner, the soft blue light casting gentle shadows across his face. He stood in front of the tank, rocking gently side to side, fingers tapping a rapid rhythm against his thigh as he stared at the fish.
"Hello…" he whispered softly to them. "You all had a calm day, right? The water looks good. The angelfish are swimming nicely today…"
His voice was quiet, almost fragile. He dropped a tiny pinch of food into the tank even though the automatic feeder had already done its job. A small, soothing stim.
I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him.
Mine.
The all consuming fixation that had lived in my chest for eight years burned hotter tonight. Not love, I didn't believe in that useless emotion. This was deeper and more primal. Dashiell was the only thing in this world that belonged to me completely. The only variable I had carefully calculated and acquired.
And tonight, someone had made him doubt himself.
Calliope's smug face flashed in my mind. The subtle poison in her words during the meeting. The way she had looked at him.
I would deal with her later.
Right now, my little anomaly needed me.
I walked up behind him slowly. He didn't turn around, but his rocking slowed slightly when he felt my presence.
"You're blaming yourself," I said flatly, voice low.
Dashiell's fingers tapped faster.
"It was my responsibility," he replied. "I was monitoring his brain. I should have caught the ischemia faster."
I stepped closer until my chest brushed his back. One arm slid around his waist, pulling him against me. My other hand rested on the glass of the aquarium, caging him in.
"I will find the truth," I murmured against his ear. "And if someone tampered with that equipment… I will destroy them."
Dashiell shivered in my arms.
"…Thank you for defending me in the meeting. Even if it was just as Chief."
I turned him around to face me, tilting his chin up with two fingers.
"In that room, I am the Chief," I said coldly. "But here…" I leaned down, brushing my lips against his. "You are mine. And no one gets to make what's mine feel small."
He looked up at me with those wide, glassy eyes, still overwhelmed but trusting.
I kissed him slowly at first, then deeper, more possessive, tasting the exhaustion and guilt on his tongue. My hand slid under his shirt, stroking his bare skin.
"Go take your bath," I ordered softly against his mouth. "Then come to bed."
Dashiell's breath hitched. His fingers tapped against my chest.
"Okay," he whispered.
As he walked into the bathroom on the balls of his toes, I watched him go, dark satisfaction curling in my chest.
Elias would recover.
The investigation would run its course.
And anyone who tried to hurt my little anomaly…
Would learn exactly how dangerous I could be and I would enjoy destroying them.
******
The next day – 10:15 AM
Quality & Safety Conference Room
I sat at the head of the long table, arms crossed, expression blank as stone while the Root Cause Analysis (RCA) team presented their preliminary findings.
The room was full: Dr. Patel (neurosurgery), Dr. Reyes, two other cardiothoracic attendings, the Chief of Biomedical Engineering, the anesthesiologist, Risk Management, and of course Dr. Calliope Langford, sitting with perfect posture and that elegant, poisonous smile.
Dashiell was not present. I had made sure of that. He didn't need to sit through this circus.
The Biomedical Engineering lead droned on, clicking through slides.
"After reviewing the neuromonitoring logs, we determined the left-side lead failure was caused by a rare sensor calibration drift. The device passed all pre-operative checks, but experienced an intermittent short circuit during the critical phase of the procedure. This is an uncommon but documented issue with this model of intraoperative EEG equipment. No evidence of tampering or human error was found."
I leaned back in my chair, eyes cold.
"No evidence of tampering," I repeated flatly. "You're certain?"
The engineer shifted uncomfortably under my gaze.
"Yes, Chief Astor. We ran full diagnostics. The failure was mechanical."
Calliope spoke up smoothly, voice laced with false concern.
"Tragic timing, though. Dr. Harper-Astor was monitoring closely, but these things happen. Perhaps with more experience in high-stakes intraoperative cases…"
She let the sentence trail off.
I didn't even look at her. My focus stayed on the engineer.
"I want the full maintenance history of that machine for the past six months," I said, voice ice-cold. "Every calibration log, every technician who touched it, every alert. I want it on my desk by end of day."
The Chief of Quality & Safety nodded quickly. "Of course, Dr. Astor. We'll expedite the investigation."
The meeting dragged on for another thirty minutes. More slides. More excuses. More subtle implications that neurology had been "overwhelmed."
I felt nothing but cold calculation.
Officially, it was a technical error. No foul play.
But I wasn't stupid.
A brand-new monitoring system with redundant backups failing at the exact worst moment during my surgery?
Too convenient.
Someone had covered their tracks well. But not well enough.
I would find them.
And when I did, I would make them wish they had never been born.
After the meeting ended, I stayed seated as the others filed out. Calliope lingered, walking past my chair with that elegant sway of her full hips.
"Such a shame about the boy," she said softly, just loud enough for me to hear. "And poor Dashiell… he must be devastated. He seems so… fragile under pressure."
I didn't look at her.
"Stay away from my husband, Calliope," I said quietly, voice flat and deadly. "If you speak to him again the way you did yesterday, I will ruin you, professionally, financially and Personally. Do not test me."
She stiffened but kept her smile.
"I was only offering support."
"No. You weren't."
She finally walked away.
I stayed in the empty conference room for a few more minutes, staring at the blank screen.