I stepped forward and cut off her tearful performance, but before I could finish, Dad slapped me across the face.
"Alice Gilbert, what do you mean yours?! You say that in public—do you have any regard for your father's reputation at all?!"
"This is a public hospital, not the Gilbert family's private property!"
"Since you asked today, I'll make this crystal clear. As long as I'm at this hospital, don't even think about getting in. You've studied for years—do I really need to keep explaining that you should avoid the appearance of nepotism?!"
"Avoid nepotism? Dad, I got in on my own merit..."
"Your own merit? Your father is the director of this hospital, and you claim you got in on your own merit? Chloe's father died young, her mother has a terminal illness—she's the one who truly earned this on her own!"
His ice-cold dismissal pierced my heart like needles.
From the day I learned to read and write, the sentence Dad repeated most was:
"Dad can't help you. You have to rely on yourself."
So getting from undergrad all the way to a PhD was relying on myself. Publishing papers during my doctorate was relying on myself. Getting into this top-ranked hospital was relying on myself.