The same doctors who once told me, “Mr. Carter, thank you for giving me the chance to become a doctor,” were now flooding me with curses and angry messages.
[Leo, you can't catch your cheating wife, so you're taking it out on us. Don't think you can use me as a scapegoat. I'm going to expose everything you've done to the media. I won't pay a cent and I'm definitely not going to Africa.]
[Mr. Carter, please have mercy. I'm about to get married and I still have a mortgage to pay. This is between you and Dr. Wells—please don’t drag us into it.]
[You pathetic cuckold, just wait. Once Dr. Wells divorces you and my buddy takes your place, let’s see how long you can keep acting like you're king of the hill.]
I pulled up each of their records one by one—and handed them over to the management company.
"Calculate exactly how much I spent training each of them. If they don’t want to go to Africa, then they can pay me back three times the amount, just like the contract says."
I was already being merciful.
Training a doctor wasn’t easy. For them to become good doctors wasn’t easy either. I didn’t want to ruin them — I just wanted what I was owed.