Evans upon hearing what the nurses had said he became very angry, and as such he tried to speak sense and reason with them to force their way and help this child that was on the brink of death. He stepped closer to the stretcher, eyes locked on the boy’s pale face, and then looked up at the nurses like they had personally chosen cruelty.“You can’t be serious,” Evans said. “You brought him out here to die in the hallway.”One nurse flinched and lifted both hands, palms out. “Sir, please lower your voice,” she said quickly. “We all did what we can.”“What you can?” Evans repeated, voice tight. “You wheeled him out from an emergency ward like luggage.”The mother’s knees nearly gave out. She held the stretcher rail like it was the only solid thing in the world. “Please,” she begged. “Please, he’s getting cold. He’s getting quiet.”The second nurse glanced toward the corridor as if she expected someone important to appear at any second. “Madam, we understand you’re scared,” she said. “

Evans pushed the stretcher through the secured doors himself. The moment they crossed the threshold, the air changed. It wasn’t the sharp smell of antiseptic and urgency he expected. It smelled expensive, layered with clean linen, perfume, and something faintly floral. The floor beneath his boots was polished so brightly it reflected the ceiling lights like a mirror. The emergency ward looked more like a private lounge than a place where people fought for their lives. Wide glass walls separated treatment bays. Soft lighting glowed along the edges. Machines hummed quietly, advanced and untouched. At the center of the ward stood four doctors in crisp coats, hands in pockets, tablets resting idle against their sides. They were not working. One of the nurses spoke quickly, like she needed to explain herself before she lost her nerve. “These are the only doctors qualified to handle critical neurological cases,” she said. “There’s no one else.” Evans looked from one doctor to

Patrick’s eyes stayed on Evans, but his voice dropped lower.“Say it again,” he said. “Slow.”Evans didn’t look proud of it. He looked tired, like he had been holding a storm in his ribs. “They refused,” he said. “The four doctors in there are standing idle."Patrick’s face didn’t change much, but the air around him did. “Idle for what?”“For her,” Evans answered. “The Chancellor’s wife. She said her back was itching. She ordered every doctor on duty to attend to her.”Patrick stared for a beat. “And the boy?”Evans’s jaw tightened. “Kai is getting worse. His breathing is weak. His fever is still burning. The sick boy is unattended to.”From behind the ward doors, a faint beep sounded, then stopped. The silence that followed felt too clean.Patrick’s eyes flicked to the doors again. “Did she insult you?”Evans didn’t answer right away. “She called me an outcast,” he said finally. “And she mocked my clothes.”Patrick let out a slow breath. “An outcast,” he repeated, like he didn’t like

The first thing Evans heard after the slap and the shouting was the sound of work.Not talk. Not pride. Not excuses.Work.“Move him in,” the lead doctor ordered, voice sharp now. “Neuro bay, now. Oxygen first. Don’t wait.”Two nurses rushed the stretcher through the glass doors. The wheels rattled over the polished floor like the building itself was finally remembering it was a hospital.Kai’s mother stumbled after them, hands trembling. “Please,” she kept saying. “Please, please, please.”Patrick stayed close but out of the way, his eyes were cold as he watched the ward reset itself. Evans followed beside the stretcher, jaw tight, watching the boy’s chest rise under the mask in thin, uneven pulls.A nurse snapped on gloves. “Oxygen mask sealed,” she said.“IV access,” another nurse replied, already tying a band around Kai’s arm.The lead doctor pointed without looking up. “Fluids. Cold packs. Get the anticonvulsant ready. If he seizes, we don’t panic.”Kai’s mother clutched the rai

“I think I know what’s happening,” Evans said, with a voice that was steady.The neuro bay went quiet in a way that felt unnatural for a room full of machines. Even the alarms seemed to hold their breath. Dr. Holst stared at him like Evans had just walked into the ocean and claimed he could split it.“You think you know?” the younger doctor repeated. “Based on what?”“Based on what I’m seeing,” Evans replied. “And based on what your treatment is not fixing.”Dr. Holst’s eyes narrowed. “You are not on our staff.”“I’m not asking for a badge,” Evans said. “I’m asking for ten minutes before your patient stops breathing.”Kai’s mother stood so fast her chair scraped the floor. “Please,” she said, voice shaking. “If you can help, help. I don’t care about weather or not you have any medical skills.”Dr. Holst lifted a hand toward her, trying to keep control. “Madam, we are treating your son. We will ensure the best medical care possible.”Evans pointed at the monitor without raising his voi