The moment the police finished with me, I raced to the hospital without stopping. I burst through the doors and found chaos outside the operating room.
Doreen had both hands clamped around Arnold's arm, pulling him back. "Mr. Sanchez, you can't sign that. The hospital is trying to cover themselves. The second you put your name on that form, if anything happens to your wife's mother, it all falls on you."
Arnold hesitated. "But—"
"No 'buts.' I've never heard of anyone needing surgery over one drink. I know you're worried about her mother, but don't let the hospital play you."
A young nurse cut in, her voice tight with urgency. "That's not what's happening. We're not trying to shift responsibility. The patient just had coronary bypass surgery recently. The doctors need to operate to assess her condition."
Doreen let out a cold laugh. "Save it. So she had bypass surgery—so what? My uncle had the same thing done. He still drinks, still smokes, and there's not a damn thing wrong with him."
The nurse looked close to tears. "Every patient is different. You can't compare—"
"Spare me the lecture. The patient was brought to your hospital. If something goes wrong, that's on you."