Chapter 2: The Name He Already Knew
Dad stood in the middle of our living room, turning slowly, taking it all in.
One wall was lined floor to ceiling with medical textbooks.
On the desk sat two open laptops, a stack of research journals, and a half-finished paper with my name on it.
A whiteboard covered in notes and diagrams filled the corner.
"What is all this?" he said quietly.
"My work," I said.
He picked up one of the journals.
His hands weren't steady.
Elliot came in from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel.
He nodded at Dad.
"Sir."
Dad looked at him for a long moment.
Then back at me.
"You're still studying medicine."
"I never stopped," I said.
"I just found another way."
He set the journal down slowly.
Something moved across his face — something I hadn't seen from him in five years.
"Your name," he said.
"I've seen your name."
I didn't answer.
He turned to the whiteboard.
His finger moved along one of the lines of text.
Then he went still.
"This research," he said.
"This is the paper that's been circulating at the hospital."
Elliot looked at me.
I looked at Dad.
"You wrote this," Dad said.
It wasn't a question.
I nodded.
He sat down heavily in the nearest chair.
He didn't speak for a long moment.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face changed completely.
"I have to take this," he said — and stepped outside before I could say a word.
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What that phone call revealed made everything more complicated than I ever expected.
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