Page 114 of Nine Week Nanny

"It's not even four AM. This better be important."

"Department of Health just flagged us." Caleb’s voice is thin and stretched, like he hasn’t slept in days. "They're sending inspectors based on the walkout complaints."

My fingers tighten around the phone. "When?"

"Tomorrow. They're targeting specialty units, including the ICU, pediatrics, and cardio. Checking staffing compliance."

I press my thumb and forefinger against the edges of my forehead, trying to force my breathing to stay even. "And if we fail?"

"We lose accreditation for those units."

"Which means we lose the entire hospital conversion." The words are bitter as I say them.

"Pretty much. Without those specialty units, our membership model collapses. No one pays seventy-five grand a year for strep tests and flu shots.”

I stand, pacing to the window. Dawn hasn't fully broken yet, but the faint outline of palm trees against a navy sky is slowly emerging. In the reflection of the window, I’m hollow-eyed and hunted.

"Pull staff from lower-acuity units. Every nurse with specialty training goes to critical departments. Call in favors, bribe people if you have to."

"Already on it. But we're short at least?—"

"Then hire agency nurses. I don't care what it costs."

"Pope, we're talking triple rates. Maybe quadruple with the emergency timing."

"Did I stutter? Hire them. All of them." I keep my voice even and controlled. Inside, rage builds like a pressure system.

“Got it.”

“Draft PR statements reassuring patients about continuity of care. Get security protocols in place. I want people in there, no matter what you have to pay them in the short term.”

I end the call before he can respond, tossing the phone onto my desk. It immediately buzzes again. Warren's name fills the screen this time.

What fresh hell is this?

I swipe my thumb across the screen, bracing for whatever new disaster Warren's about to dump on my lap.

"Give me good news for once." My voice is more of a bark, even to my own ears.

"Chris filed a motion for discovery." Warren skips the pleasantries. "Broad discovery. Invasive discovery."

A chill crawls up my spine as I sink back into my chair. "Define invasive. What does that mean?”

“It means he can see anything, including photos, texts, emails, he can interview all relavent parties. If the judge grants it, he can subpoena everyone in Lennon's life, including Sloane."

My blood turns to ice. "Sloane has nothing to do with this."

"Chris's attorney is arguing otherwise. They want to depose her about your relationship, your behavior around Lennon, and supervision practices." Warren pauses. "And the nature of your sexual relationship."

"Absolutely fucking not." The words come out like bullets.

"They'll dig into her professional background, question her judgment, paint her as unethical. She'd be labeled as someone who sleeps with employers, which could devastate her career prospects in pediatric therapy."

The rage simmers just beneath my skin, threatening to boil over. I picture Sloane across a conference table, Chris's snake of an attorney asking about intimate details, twisting everything pure into something sordid.

"Can we block it?"

"Potentially. We can request a protective order." Warren's voice lowers. "But it would require a sworn statement from you that there is no ongoing romantic relationship or cohabitation between you and Ms. Brennan."