The surgical knife hovered above little Samuel’s tiny body.
The room was silent… too silent.
Machines beeped steadily, echoing like a warning no one wanted to hear.
The doctor’s hand trembled.
He looked at Samuel’s peaceful face—so small, so innocent. A child who trusted the world… a child who had no idea he had been betrayed by his own blood.
For a brief second, something human flickered inside the doctor.
“This is wrong…” he whispered under his breath.
But then—
His eyes shifted to the glass window.
Outside, Nneoma and her husband stood there, watching… waiting.
And the bag of money.
It was still sitting on the table.
The doctor swallowed hard.
“Proceed,” he muttered.
AT THE CHURCH
Miriam suddenly gasped.
Her body jerked forward as if something had struck her chest.
Her prayers stopped mid-sentence.
Her hands began to shake violently.
“No… no… something is wrong…”
Tears filled her eyes without warning.
She stood up abruptly, ignoring the confused looks from others around her.
She reached for her phone and dialed Nneoma.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
No answer.
Her heart dropped.
She called again.
Still nothing.
“God… please… protect my son…” she whispered, already running out of the church.
BACK AT THE HOSPITAL
Inside the operating room, the nurse adjusted the equipment nervously.
“Doctor… are we really doing this?” she asked softly.
The doctor didn’t respond.
His face was cold now… detached.
“Scalpel.”
The nurse hesitated.
“I said—SCALPEL!”
She handed it over with shaky hands.
The doctor took a deep breath…
And just as he was about to make the first incision—
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The monitor suddenly spiked.
Samuel’s heart rate dropped sharply.
“Doctor!” the nurse shouted. “His vitals—!”
The doctor froze.
“What?! That’s impossible—he was stable!”
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