My vision went black. I crumpled to the floor. I didn't catch the rest of what he said. After hanging up, I opened my email—the hundred-plus enthusiastic offers I'd received just that morning had all turned into rejections.
I shattered.
Staggering to my feet, I gripped my phone and rushed back to my father's hospital.
Today was his exclusive interview with Capital City Broadcasting—the one about "mentoring students everywhere." I shoved through the thick wall of reporters, hit play on the recording, and charged in.
"Nathaniel Gilbert! For your precious reputation, I already gave up my spot to your favorite disciple. Why won't you leave me alone?!"
"Mercy General already sent me an offer. What gives you the right to make them take it back?!"
The set—seconds ago filled with laughter—went deathly silent. The only sound was the director's helpless sigh echoing from my phone through the massive room. The reporters outside exchanged stunned glances.
My father's face went livid. He shot up from his chair and swung.
"Ungrateful wretch! How dare you call your father by his name in public?! All those years of education—did you learn nothing?!"