The Unauthorized Access

My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the blood samples right outside his door, the metallic smell suddenly overwhelming.

Entering his office, the air felt thick and cold, different from the usual sterile hospital smell. He pointed to the empty chair, not looking up from a file on his desk. “Sit, Sarah. We need to talk about Ms. Dubois and what you were doing with her records.”

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. I knew what this was about, the blurred numbers on the lab report, the unusual late-night deliveries to her room, the sudden change in her vitals last week. “What about her, Doctor?” I managed, my voice barely a whisper, drier than sand.

He finally met my gaze, his eyes suddenly hard, devoid of their usual warmth, like polished stone. “Someone saw you reviewing her charts after hours, Sarah. That information is highly confidential. Unauthorized access is a serious breach of protocol.” The fluorescent lights hummed, casting long, unsettling shadows across the room.

A shiver ran down my spine, despite the stifling heat. “But the dosage… it was quadruple what was prescribed. She was lucid just yesterday, now she’s unresponsive. Is she even still… alive?” Just then, a sharp, insistent knock echoed from the outer office.

The nurse’s voice called through the door, “Dr. Chase, the police are here to see you.”

👇 Full story continued in the comments…Dr. Chase’s face tightened, a muscle flickering in his jaw. He didn’t answer the knock, but his gaze remained fixed on me, calculating. “That is not your concern, Sarah. Your concern is the unauthorized access to her records. Do you understand the gravity of this situation?”

My breath hitched. I realized then that my concerns about Ms. Dubois weren’t his. The police being there, the way he was avoiding my questions, it all clicked into a terrifying shape. I was being set up. “I… I was worried,” I stammered, “About her. Something wasn’t right.”

He leaned back in his chair, the leather squeaking softly. “Worry is a luxury we can’t afford in this profession. We follow procedure. And right now, the procedure is for you to explain yourself.” He gestured sharply towards the file on his desk. “What did you see, Sarah? What did you take?”

I swallowed, the metallic tang of the blood samples rising again. “I copied the lab results. The initial ones, the ones from last week. And the notes on the medication deliveries.” My fingers trembled, and I clasped them together in my lap to try and stop the shaking. I had to be careful, think fast.

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “And what exactly were you looking for, Sarah? To what end?”

The urgency in his voice, the carefulness of his questions, the police outside… “I… I thought there was a mistake,” I finally said, the words catching in my throat. “Someone made a mistake.”

The door to the office suddenly burst open. A tall, stern-faced police officer stood there, followed by another, younger officer who held a notepad. Both of them looked directly at me.

“Sarah Miller?” the lead officer asked, his voice sharp. “You’re under arrest for unauthorized access of medical records, and potential obstruction of justice.”

My blood ran cold. I looked from the officers, back to Dr. Chase. He remained impassive, his face a mask of professional detachment. I finally understood. The blurred numbers, the late-night deliveries, the unresponsive patient, the unusual changes in Ms. Dubois’s health, none of it was a mistake. Dr. Chase was trying to cover it up. And now, he was using me as a scapegoat.

“Wait,” I said, my voice cracking. “You have the wrong person. Please, I can explain.”

But the officers ignored me, moving in. The younger officer pulled out a pair of handcuffs. As they began to restrain me, I looked back at Dr. Chase. His eyes were cold, but in the brief moment they met mine, I saw a flicker of something else – fear. Fear that I might know too much.

As they led me out of the office, I saw a glimpse of Ms. Dubois’s chart sitting open on his desk, revealing the current dosages, the most recent lab results, all perfectly aligned with the timeline. And I knew then, I wasn’t being accused of something, I was being silenced. I wouldn’t be able to save Ms. Dubois, but in that moment, I resolved that if I was going down, I was going down with the truth. I would use the time I had to figure out exactly what Dr. Chase had done, and expose him for what he was. The fight had just begun.