An Intern Claimed Her Husband Owned The Hospital—So I Made One Call

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“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Hang up.”

I ignored her.

“Come down to the lobby, Mark. Right now.”

“Cath, be reasonable. Go home. Take a bath. I’ll be there for dinner—”

“If you’re not down here in three minutes,” I said, my voice dropping an octave, “I’m calling Arthur. And I’m asking him to walk me through the missing two million in the MRI continue reading …