Chapter 3

The next day at the clinic, Eve made me a cup of hot tea.

As she handed it over, her slender fingers paused on the white ceramic cup.

Her expression was gentle as always, but her tone carried a trace of concern:

"Dr. Smith, yesterday's call... you really refused?"

"I've never seen you like this."

Eve was my deputy and my most capable partner.

She knew how much I'd sacrificed for this charity clinic, and she knew I treated every patient like my own child, never giving up before.

I picked up the teacup without answering.

The warm liquid slid down my throat, but couldn't warm that frozen heart.

"Take it slow. There's always hope."

Seeing my pale face, Eve habitually tried to comfort me.

I forced a slight smile in response.

Hope?

My hope died ten years ago.

Before I could speak, the office door burst open. A young rehabilitation therapist rushed in frantically:

"Dr. Smith, Miss Eve, something's wrong—someone's kneeling outside!"

Eve and I exchanged glances and immediately headed out.

The afternoon sun was vicious as fire, baking the ground until white heat rose from it.

Outside the clinic entrance, a large crowd had gathered, mostly parents picking up their children.

In the center of the crowd, a woman knelt upright on the scorching cement.

Behind her stood a man, helplessly holding a child, his face full of anxiety.

It was them.

Anna and Brandon.

I put on a mask and slowly walked through the crowd to stand before them.

"Dr. Smith! You're finally willing to see us!"

The moment Anna saw me, she crawled forward on her knees two steps, crying, her voice pitiful:

"Please, save my daughter! As long as you're willing to help, we'll give you any amount of money!"

Brandon also chimed in with red-rimmed eyes and a hoarse voice:

"Dr. Smith, we've asked around. Only you can save her. Please have mercy!"

My gaze fell on the child in their arms.

Lucy.

She wore soft, comfortable cotton clothes. Her face was pale, but she still showed signs of careful nurturing.

Her features resembled Anna's.

But my son Lorne...

When he died, he wore faded old clothes, washed until they were white.

He was so thin he was just bones. His tiny body curled in my arms, his last weak breath still stubbornly calling for the woman who'd abandoned him.

"Mommy..."

My heart felt like someone had torn it open with a dull blade, blood pouring out, the pain almost making me unable to stand.

The surrounding parents began whispering.

"Dr. Smith has always been so soft-hearted, why this time..."

"Right, what a pitiful child. They've been kneeling here so long."

I took a deep breath, suppressing the metallic taste rising in my throat.

Under everyone's puzzled gazes, I looked down at Anna kneeling on the ground and said coldly:

"Stop dreaming."

"I'll save anyone else, but not this child."