The Price of Slander

I went to my brothers hospital for an allergic reaction and ran right into the intern nurse who was crushing on him. Hard.

After she overheard what she thought was an intimate conversation between me and my brother, her face soured with jealousy and panic. Just then, my brother, Alex, walked in and habitually placed his hand on my forehead to check my temperature.

That was the last straw for her. She looked at me like I was the enemy, her eyes filled with suspicion.

I was torn between laughing and crying, about to explain the situation, when she suddenly shrieked and slapped my brother's hand away.

"Dr. Monroe, break up with her! Don't let this filthy woman deceive you! This isn't an allergic reaction!"

"She's got... a rash on her backside!"

"It's a textbook sign of secondary syphilis! She's got a filthy disease!"

The entire ER went dead silent.

In an instant, every eye in the room snapped to meto my exposed back and my half-lowered pants.

A roar filled my ears as all the blood rushed to my head.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" I was the first to snap out of it, my body trembling with rage.

I whipped my head toward the intern, Brooke, my eyes turning red. "What's your name? Your ID number? Do you have any idea that's slander?!"

My fury made Brooke flinch, and tears instantly welled up in her eyes. But she refused to back down, her tear-filled gaze shifting to Alex, who stood there in stunned silence. Her expression was a bizarre mix of righteous indignation, heartbreak, and a kind of "savior" complex I couldn't comprehend.

"Dr. Monroe! I'm not lying! I've studied medicine for five years, I know what I'm seeing!" she sobbed, a picture of tragic beauty. She pointed a trembling finger at me. "I just don't want you to be fooled by a woman like her! Her personal life is a mess, she doesn't deserve you! Look at her, she's still trying to deny it!"

The look on Alex's face screamed, Who am I? Where am I?

I yanked up my pants, ignoring the searing pain as the fabric scraped against my raw skin. I stood up and locked my eyes on Brooke.

"Say it again," I hissed, forcing the words through gritted teeth. "What disease do you think I have?"

"I..." My glare seemed to frighten her, but a quick glance at Alex standing nearby gave her a fresh surge of courage. She puffed out her chest. "You know perfectly well what you've been doing, don't you?"

"Right," I said, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. "Just perfect."

I was done wasting my breath on her. I pulled out my phone and started dialing right in front of her.

"Hello, 911? I'd like to report a crime. There's someone here publicly slandering me, defaming my character..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Ms. Lynn! Please, calm down!"

A middle-aged man with a "Chief Physician" badge clipped to his coat rushed in, clearly having heard the commotion. When he took in the sceneme on the phone with the police, Alexs face a mask of thunderhe looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"Dr. Monroe, what... what's going on here?"

Alexs voice was clipped. "Dr. Wallace, this intern here claims my 'girlfriend' has secondary syphilis."

The color drained from the chief's face.

He spun on Brooke, his voice a furious whisper. "Brooke! What do you think you're doing? You don't have a lab report, and you're making a diagnosis with your eyes? What are you, a goddamn X-ray machine?!"

"I... I..." Brooke's tears flowed faster as she looked pleadingly at Alex. "Dr. Monroe, I was really just trying to help you! I..."

"Shut up!" Dr. Wallace looked like his head was about to explode. He knew Alex had influence with the hospital administration. If this blew up, his whole department would be in hot water. "Apologize to Ms. Lynn and Dr. Monroe right now!"

"Do you want to lose your residency spot?!"

The words "residency spot" were clearly Brooke's weak point.

She trembled, biting her lip, her face a mask of humiliation and defiance. She reluctantly gave me a short, jerky bow.

"I'm sorry."

Her voice was as quiet as a mosquito's buzz, but the venom in her eyes could have killed.

"I don't want your apology," I cut her off, my gaze sweeping sharply between her and Dr. Wallace. "I'm going to get a full STD panel done. Right here, in your hospital. Right now."

I paused, enunciating every word.

"And if the results come back clean, I'm not just suing you, Brooke, for slander. I'm suing this hospital for gross negligence and for allowing an intern to spread malicious lies."

Beads of cold sweat popped up on Dr. Wallace's forehead.

"Ms. Lynn, please, let's not be hasty," he said, forcing a smile. "This is all a big misunderstanding! Brooke, you're suspended from your internship duties. Go write a ten-thousand-word self-criticism report! We'll post a hospital-wide notice of reprimand!"

I couldn't be bothered to watch their pathetic drama anymore. I turned and walked away.

Alex quickly followed, helping me register and get my blood drawn.

I was so angry I basically did the blood draw on myself, finding the vein and inserting the needle with a grim satisfaction.

It was past midnight by the time I dragged my rash-covered, furious self home. I swallowed my medication and fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

I had no idea that for every hour I slept, I was being crucified online.

When I finally opened my eyes again, it was to the violent buzzing of my phone. A string of missed calls from Alex.

"Hello...?" My voice was as scratchy as sandpaper.

"Lia, thank God you finally picked up! Get on TikTok! Now! It's a total disaster!"

My stomach dropped. I opened the app.

The 999+ notifications in my DMs and comments made my phone lag so badly it felt like I was watching a slideshow.

A video from a local creator was trending, sitting right at the top of my feed.

In the video, a girl in a white coat was sobbing into the camera.

It was Brooke.

The caption read: [I just wanted to be a good doctor, is that so wrong?]

She didn't use any names, but the background was unmistakably the ER hallway from last night.

Between heart-wrenching sobs, she spoke.

"...I was just trying to kindly warn the gentleman that his 'girlfriend's' symptoms were very suspicious. If it was that kind of disease, it could be contagious. I never thought his girlfriend would react so violently and file a complaint against me..."

"...Now, to smooth things over, my supervisor has suspended me and made me write a self-criticism report. After five years of medical school, I honestly don't know what I did wrong..."

"...Maybe I shouldn't have gotten involved, but I just couldn't bear to see that man kept in the dark. I did nothing wrong! I'm still the best Little Lamb!"

That last part, "I'm still the best Little Lamb," was her personal tag.

The comment section had already exploded.

[Don't cry, sweetie! You did nothing wrong! You're just too kind!]

[Seriously, some women these days have no shame. And then they get mad when you call them out?]

[That patient was definitely just pissed you exposed her! Hugs for Little Lamb!]

[OMG, isn't that St. Jude's Medical Center? I think I was there yesterday, that woman was a total nightmare!]

[Someone find out who that woman is! We have to save that handsome guy from her!]

I was shaking with rage.

What a masterpiece of twisting the truth, "the best Little Lamb."

She was even replying to comments, vividly describing what I looked like.

[The woman looked sickly, but she had a terrible temper. I have no idea how she managed to trick a guy like him. He's so handsome and classy, they're like night and day!]

[I heard the handsome guy is an administrator here at the hospital, and he's super nice! Ugh, what a waste!]

My anger boiled over. I started typing a reply in the comments: [I'm the "patient" you're talking about, and here's what actually happened...]

I had just furiously typed out half the story when a cold, gray box popped up on my screen:

[Your account has been suspended due to multiple user reports of violating community guidelines.]

My vision went black for a second.

When I came to, I immediately contacted customer support, only to be told it would take three business days to review my case.

Three business days? The damage would be irreversible by then.

Alex was panicking on the other end of the line. "Lia, I've already spoken to the hospital director. They said they'll issue a public statement to clarify everything immediately!"

"Alex," I said, taking a deep breath to force myself to stay calm. "Don't. Right now, you're the 'poor, handsome guy being duped' in her story. The more you defend me, the more they'll think I have some powerful background and I'm using it to bully her."

"So what are we supposed to do? Just let her drag your name through the mud?"

I hung up, my eyes fixed on Brooke's tear-stained face in the video.

Suddenly, I remembered the way she'd looked at Alex in the ER last night. It was... wrong. That wasn't how an intern looked at a colleague.

It was obsession. Jealousy. Resentment.

She kept saying things like "for your own good" and "she doesn't deserve you."

Why would a brand-new intern be so... invested in my brother's love life?

Unless... she knew him from before.

A crazy idea, sharp as lightning, shot through my mind.

I shot up in bed and dialed Alex's number again.

"Alex, I need you to do something for me. Right now. I need you to log in to the hospital's internal staff forum."

"Huh? Right now? Why?"

"Just do it. And search for a post." Drawing on a hazy memory, I gave him a few keywords. "Try: Dr. Monroe, girlfriend, doesn't deserve."

There was silence on the other end. As an administrator, Alex could access the internal network in seconds.

Five minutes later, he called back, his voice thick with shock and disbelief.

"Lia... how... how did you know?"

He sent me a screenshot.

It was a post from three months ago, in the "Anonymous Gossip" section of the hospital's internal forum.

The title was: [Vent] Dr. Monroe in Admin is so nice, but isn't his girlfriend kind of a diva?

The post read: [OP is a new intern. I saw Dr. Monroe in the cafeteria today, and his girlfriend (I assume) called. He had to drop everything and run down to the coffee shop in the lobby to buy her some special strawberry frappe.]

[Last week, I saw her making him carry her shopping bags in the hospital garden. She was totally bossing him around, but Dr. Monroe is such a saint, he was smiling the whole time.]

[And I heard she's a massive spender. Most of Dr. Monroe's salary goes straight to her.]

[What's so great about a woman like that? Why would Dr. Monroe be with her? I just feel so bad for him!]

The replies were a mixed bag.

[OP, you just have a crush on Dr. Monroe, don't you?]

[Hahaha, our Dr. Monroe is the hospital heartthrob. The line of people crushing on him is a mile long.]

[I've seen that woman too. She's gorgeous, but she looks really mean.]

And when someone asked the original poster if she had a crush, she had replied with a long, defensive rant:

[NO! I DON'T! Stop making things up! I just feel bad for Dr. Monroe! He's such a good person, why does he have to be deceived by a woman like her?!]

I stared at the screenshot, a chill spreading through my limbs.

Three months ago, I had a dental appointment, and Alex offered to buy me a drink. I complained he got the flavor wrong, so I sent him back downstairs to get another one.

Last week, my mom had us pick up her physical exam report from the hospital, and I'd done some shopping beforehand, so I made him carry my bags.

As for his salary... my mom had confiscated his credit cards years ago for his reckless spending. I was the one holding them, giving him a monthly allowance.

I took another deep breath, my voice as cold as ice.

"Alex, trace the IP address of that post."

There was a pause. "...Lia, the IP address traces back to the intern dorms. Building A."

"And who... lives in Building A?"

"...Dermatology and a few internal medicine interns." Alex hesitated. "Brooke... Brooke lives in Building A."

I laughed.

A cold, hollow sound that nearly brought tears to my eyes.

So this wasn't a medical error. It wasn't a random attack.

This was a premeditated setup, a character assassination fueled by a one-sided crush.

Brooke hadn't misdiagnosed me.

She had already judged and condemned me.

She wasn't diagnosing my illness; she was delivering my punishment.

She was punishing me, the "awful woman" who "didn't deserve" Alex and was "deceiving" him.

Fine.

You want to settle this online?

Just then, a friend request popped up on my social media.

The profile picture was Brooke's own pitiful, tear-stained face.

I accepted.

A message came through instantly.

[Ms. Lia Lynn, I presume? I honestly didn't expect things to blow up online like this.]

[I already know I was wrong, and I've asked for your forgiveness. But as a doctor, I feel I should still offer some advice. A girl should take care of her body. It's really better not to be so... promiscuous.]

Her condescending tone, as if she were some kind of savior, was infuriating.

I stared at the words, a bitter laugh bubbling up inside me.

I was about to unleash a torrent of curses, but my fingers froze over the screen.

What was the point of yelling at her? It would only feed her ego.

I deleted the long string of insults I had typed and calmly replied with a few words.

[Are you at the hospital right now?]

Brooke clearly hadn't expected that question. A few seconds later, a single "?" appeared.

Seeing that question mark, a cold smile touched my lips.

I didn't bother replying. I dialed Alex's number instead.

"Alex, do me a favor."

"Anything, Lia!"

"Go live on your TikTok account."

"What?"

"The title of the stream will be: [Regarding 'Little Lamb's' SlanderThe Patient's Actual Brother Has Something to Say]."

The next morning, Alex and I walked back into that hospital.

Alex's TikTok account had a few tens of thousands of followers, mostly from his fitness videos and hospital-related informational content.

The moment he started the livestream with that title, thousands of viewers poured in.

Most of them were people who had followed the "Little Lamb" drama last night and had come to curse out the "slut" and the "blinded hottie."

[Ugh, that woman has the nerve to show her face at the hospital again?]

[Is this guy insane? He's that handsome and he chooses a girl with syphilis?]

[You city people are wild!]

I ignored the flood of comments and walked straight to the emergency department's main hall.

As I expected, Brooke was there.

She wasn't in her white coat. She had changed into a white dress and was laughing and chatting with another nurse, showing no signs of someone who had been suspended and was supposed to be reflecting on her actions.

When she saw me, she froze for a second, then her lips curled into a slight, contemptuous smirk.

But when her eyes moved past me and landed on Alex, who was holding his phone up and livestreaming, the color drained from her face.

In the next instant, she put on a heart-wrenching, tearful expression and rushed toward us, bowing deeply over and over.

"Dr. Monroe! Ms. Lynn! I'm so, so sorry!"

"I truly had no idea the online reaction would be so huge... I never should have revealed your condition online, I was just so worried you might infect someone else..."

She cried, stealing glances at Alex from the corner of her eye, her performance utterly convincing.

The livestream chat instantly exploded.

[Did you hear that! She admitted it herself! It's a 'condition,' not an 'allergic reaction'!]

[I'm gonna be sick. And this woman dragged her 'boyfriend' here to cause more trouble?]

I suppressed the inferno of rage in my chest and cut her performance short with a cold, clear voice.

"A condition? Alright then."

I held up a manila folder I was carrying.

"The results from last night's blood test are in this folder."

Brooke's sobs hitched.

"But," I continued, "I'm worried people will say we used our 'connections' to force the hospital to alter the report."

I turned to the camera, to the crowd of onlookers that had gathered in the lobby.

"So, right here, right now, in front of everyone in this livestream, I'm going to register again, get my blood drawn again, and do another full panel of tests!"

"And that's not all," I said, turning to Alex.

Alex understood immediately and made a call. "Hello, is this the Notary Public's office? I need an expedited on-site notarization service..."

"This is..." Brooke's face was now completely white.

Just then, Dr. Wallace, the chief from yesterday, rushed over, his face livid. "This is absurd! What do you think a hospital is? A stage for your livestream drama?"

He was clearly trying to shut this down.

Alex walked over to him without a word and whispered something in his ear.

I only caught a few words: "dean," "internal forum," "malicious slander."

Dr. Wallace's face turned from white to green, then from green to a dark, stormy gray.

He stared at Brooke, his eyes burning with a look that could have skinned her alive.

Finally, he ground out three words through his teeth: "Let her test!"

I took Alex's phone and handled the registration and payment.

On the screen, I ignored the vile comments scrolling by.

Blood draw, urine sample, various scans...

The notaries arrived quickly, and two of them set up their own cameras, recording the entire process.

I remained perfectly calm through it all.

Brooke tried to find an excuse to slip away several times, but Alex stood like a guard at the lab entrance, blocking her path every time. Her face grew paler, her eyes wild with panic.

After all the tests were done, I crossed my arms and sat on a bench in the hospital lobby to wait.

The number of viewers on the livestream had surpassed one hundred thousand, all of them waiting to see how this drama would end.

Two hours later, I had all the printed report sheets in my hand.

I didn't even look at them. I handed the entire stack, along with the notarized documents, directly to Dr. Wallace.

"Dr. Wallace," I said with a small smile, "you're the chief physician. You're the expert. Would you please do the honors? Read my test results out loud for our friends in the livestream."

Dr. Wallace's white coat was soaked with sweat.

He took the stack of papers, his hands trembling.

He cleared his throat and began to read, one sheet at a time.

"Complete blood count, normal."

"Liver function, normal."

"Kidney function, normal."

...

He read quickly, until he got to the very last page. His voice stopped abruptly.

He looked up, gave me a strange, conflicted look, then glanced back down at the report in his hands. His eyes held a flicker of hesitation and something that looked almost like... pity?

The livestream chat sensed that something was wrong.

[Why'd he stop reading? What's on the last page?]

[Come on, say it! The suspense is killing me!]

Under the pressure of hundreds of thousands of viewers, the doctor swallowed hard. He looked at the camera and forced out the words:

"Syphilis antibody test... Positive (+)."

"Diagnosis: Syphilis, Secondary Stage."