Chapter 50

The world beyond the glass doors faded into silence as Sloane changed into her sterile gown. The air was thick with disinfectant, cold enough that her breath nearly fogged the surgical mask. Her fingers trembled once, just once, before she stilled them against her sides. When she stepped up to the table, the senior surgeon glanced at her over his mask. “You’re here,” he said, voice clipped, already halfway focused on the incision. Mr. Brown lay still beneath the shadowless light, chest open under the careful hands of the operating team. His heart, small, frail, and beating faintly, throbbed in uneven rhythm against the sterile cloth. The monitor’s beeping filled the room like an unsteady pulse, and for a moment, Sloane could barely breathe. She nodded at the doctor who greeted her and moved quietly to assist, eyes scanning the open cavity. The other experts were already leaning in, murmuring to one another, brows furrowed. Every movement, every shift of the scalpel, carried hesitation.