Richard gave a small incredulous laugh.
“You process admissions.”
“Yes.”
“You are not an auditor.”
“No.”
“You’re not a physician, an administrator or an attorney.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“Then perhaps you should explain why you thought you were qualified to interpret financial records you had no business reviewing.”
Daniel flinched.
Maya did not.
“I didn’t interpret financial records,” she said.
“I read what crossed my desk.”
She opened the gray folder.
The first pages were copies of charity-assistance forms.
Names and private details had been redacted for the public presentation, but dates, processing codes and approval fields remained visible.
Maya lifted one page.
“This application was marked completed at 3:08 a.m.”
She lifted another.
“This one was marked completed at 3:11.”
A third.
“3:14.”
She looked toward the board.
“The same approving signature appears on all three.”
Richard folded his arms.
“So?”
“The person whose signature appears there wasn’t in the hospital that night.”
Kline closed his eyes briefly.
Richard’s face hardened.
Maya continued.
“At first I assumed it was a clerical error.
Then I saw the same signature again.
Different nights.
Different patients.
Same approval.
Some applications showed assistance granted.
But when those patients called later, their balances had not changed.”
A board member named Dr.
Patel spoke from the front table.
“How many?”
Maya looked at Evelyn.
Evelyn answered.
“Enough to require an independent review.”
Richard turned on her.
“That is deliberately vague.”
“It is deliberately careful,” Evelyn said.
“Because unlike a gala speech, an investigation has rules.”
A few people looked away to hide reactions.
Richard’s composure slipped another fraction.
He pointed at Maya.
“This employee is engaged to my son.
We have had personal disagreements.
She clearly resents me.
You are allowing a family conflict to contaminate a professional matter.”
There it was.
The move Maya had expected.
