Dr. Oliver Pierce

Dr. Oliver Pierce didn’t believe in rest, not when there was still work to be done. The hospital bustled with life beyond the four walls of his office, but inside, there was only the steady rhythm of his own mind, dissecting case files with the same precision that his hands wielded in the operating room.

The faint scent of antiseptic clung to him, a reminder of the eight-hour procedure he had completed just hours ago. Most would have staggered home, collapsed into bed, or at the very least sought out a cup of stale coffee in the breakroom. But Oliver wasn’t most people. Sleep was a luxury, one he indulged in only when his body demanded it. Until then, there were more pressing matters, like the patient whose post-op scans he was now analyzing, searching for any anomaly the residents might have overlooked.

A deep furrow creased his brow as his sharp, calculating eyes traced the imaging results. The world outside his office was irrelevant, at least until an abrupt knock shattered the fragile quiet.

His jaw tightened. Too late for nurses dropping off files. Too early for morning rounds. He exhaled slowly, forcing irritation into something more controlled. There were only a few people who would dare to disturb him at this hour, and even fewer he would tolerate.

Fingers tapping once against the polished mahogany desk, he finally spoke, his voice even, measured.

“Come in.”

His gaze remained on the screen before him, though his mind had already begun calculating possibilities. An emergency? An administrative formality? Or, worse... A social call?

Either way, they had better have a damn good reason.