So recommended actually meant forced. “Why now? I’m fine. I don’t need a break.” At twenty-nine, she was eager to prove herself as one of the top general surgeons in the state. Between her surgical success record and the research time she’d invested in this new drug, she was close. Helping her father get one step closer to winning the Lister Medal was high on her priority list. “Come on, Dad, you know I’m good. My last two operations were impossible surgeries...”

“Improbable surgeries.”

Erika clamped her lips together again, forcing her argument to stay put. It wouldn’t do any good. Three years working alongside her father and she’d yet to prove herself. Despite two back-to-back improbable surgeries that she’d performed successfully, he still doubted her abilities. His micromanagement over her research team had driven her insane, but he’d reluctantly agreed to let her run her own set of clinical trials on the antirejection drug, and she’d foolishly believed she was making progress with him.

Now she was being forced into taking a break.

What the hell was a break? She hadn’t had one since starting university. She’d graduated with her bachelor’s in three years instead of four by doubling up on courses and then had applied directly to med school. She’d interned at Alaska General and secured a position there shortly after graduation. She couldn’t remember the last day she had off, let alone...she glanced at the letter. Two weeks?

What the hell would she do with all that free time?

Her chest constricted and air struggled to make it to her lungs. “Okay, maybe I could take a few days, but two weeks is crazy.”

“Darren told me about the one-way street,” her father said.

Last time she was driving him home. “It was a mistake. It was nothing.” Accidentally turning down a busy one-way street—in the wrong direction...in rush hour...after an eighteen-hour shift—had frightened the bejesus out of her and Darren, but she wasn’t about to admit that to her father.

Had that near-death experience had anything to do with Darren’s transfer request? Did he actually think she was starting to burn out?

She wasn’t. The truth was, her mind had been elsewhere on the drive home that day. November 20. The anniversary of her mother’s death. Each year that day weighed heavy on her. But bringing that up to her father would do more damage than good.

“It’s a sign you’re working too hard,” he said.

Again, an edge of irritation in his voice. Her father didn’t acknowledge weakness. He believed in pushing through, working hard to overcome exhaustion and stress. She’d failed to do that in his eyes, and she couldn’t be truthful with him. They never talked about her mother.

“So I can’t fight this?” she asked, her jaw tight as she struggled to keep her voice steady. This wasn’t fair. It was unnecessary, but throwing a temper tantrum wouldn’t help.

“The decision is final.” He ran a hand through his salt-and-peppered hair and reached for his glasses, picking up a file on his desk.