"I can handle it, Kyle. Don't worry about me."
Kayla held her phone between her ear and shoulder as she walked out of class. She didn't look or feel remotely as strong as she wanted him to believe.
She sighed. "I'll talk to you when I get home. Yes. Bye."
The campus was unusually crowded today—buzzing, loud, restless. There had to be an event going on. Or a show. Something.
Her ponytail swayed with her fast stride. She had thought all morning about what she wanted to do after her talk with 47. Whether she'd actually have the guts to say the things brewing inside her.
She doubted it.
The scent of expensive perfume reached her before the sharp click of heels. Purposeful. Familiar. Too familiar.
Claudia.
Kayla didn't have time to brace herself before Claudia stepped directly in front of her, wearing that smug grin she dreamed of slapping off her face.
"Well, well," Claudia purred, grabbing her wrist the moment Kayla tried to walk past. "I have something to say to you."
Kayla yanked her hand free, teeth gritted. "I don't want to listen."
Claudia chuckled softly. "Not like you have a choice. I just wanted to remind you to stay quiet."
Kayla inhaled slowly.
Don't react.
Not yet.
Claudia leaned in, voice tightening, eyes narrowing. "Don't try to get ahead of yourself. You can claim to have done the surgery, but it's your word against mine and Dr. Brice's." She smiled—slow, poisonous. "You wouldn't win. Know your place, Ramirez."
Kayla's jaw clenched. Her fingers curled.
She moved—finally ready to react—
Flash.
Then another.
And another.
Cameras. A lot of them.
Kayla froze as over a dozen reporters and onlookers swarmed around them. Microphones shoved forward. Questions fired like bullets. Phones recording. Lights blinding.
Claudia blinked, startled. "What the—?"
Then a trembling woman pushed through the crowd, dropping to her knees in front of Claudia with shocking desperation.
"Please—please help my son." She clutched Claudia's hands, sobbing. "You saved that boy's life—the one from the news. Please, you're the only surgeon who can do this!"
Claudia's entire body went rigid.
The miracle surgery.
The lie.
She turned her head, eyes wide with fear—and met Kayla's gaze.
Kayla smiled.
The woman clung harder. "They said you're the youngest surgeon to ever pull off something like that. Please, Doctor Claudia—my son is dying."
Around them, students gathered in layers, filming. Reporters recorded live feeds. Voices rose.
Kayla took a step forward, expression perfectly innocent.
"Miracle Doctor Claudia," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Save her son."
It spread like wildfire.
"Save her son!
Save her son!"
Chants erupted. Cameras flashed nonstop. Reporters practically vibrated with excitement. This was news. Chaos. Spectacle.
Claudia swallowed hard, lips trembling. "O-Of course… I—I'll do it."
Cheers exploded.
"Miracle Doctor! Miracle Doctor!"
Kayla watched as Claudia's fear eased into arrogance, her posture straightening under the praise. A queen returning to her throne.
Claudia bent down, lifting the sobbing woman to her feet and dusting her clothes with dainty sympathy. "I promise to save your son."
More shouting. More flashing.
Kayla took one step back.
A hand clamped tightly around her wrist.
Claudia.
"If you'll excuse me," Claudia said brightly to the cameras, pulling Kayla along with her, forcing their intertwined hands to look friendly. "I have to prepare."
The cameras followed them all the way to the hospital, only stopping when security redirected the swarm.
As they walked toward the stairwell, the hospital director intercepted them—followed by a wall of senior doctors, including Dr. Brice.
"Dr. Claudia," the director boomed. "I just heard doctors from other hospitals will be coming to observe your surgery." He laughed, delighted, and patted her hand twice. "Show them that our hospital has only competent—no, miracle doctors."
"Of course, sir," Claudia replied, shy and humble in a way that made Kayla's stomach turn.
"Have you read the case file?"
"Yes, sir. I'll go through it again to make sure I don't miss anything vital."
The director laughed proudly. "Of course. We'll be watching."
He walked off, the group trailing behind him.
All except Dr. Brice, who slipped quietly into the stairwell.
Claudia dragged Kayla inside after him.
The moment the door shut, her voice dipped into venom. "You are performing that surgery. Do you hear me?"
"They'll only watch the operation up close—not the whole room," Brice added, stepping closer. "You go in, do the surgery, and leave. Easy. Nothing goes wrong. Do you understand?"
Kayla lifted her head, eyes narrowing. "I won't—"
"You're not about to say no, are you?" Claudia cut in. "If you don't do it, that child will die. You don't want that, do you? You're a good doctor, aren't you?"
There it was.
The manipulation.
The guilt trap.
They were experts at it.
"Fine," Kayla said calmly. "I'll do it."
Claudia exhaled in relief.
Brice nodded like it was the only logical outcome. "Good. Go get dressed."
Claudia grabbed her wrist again and dragged her toward the changing room, shoving a file against her chest the moment they stepped inside.
"Go through it. Don't mess up or I'll kill you," Brice snapped, leaving.
"Quickly, Ramirez. They're waiting for me," Claudia said sharply before strutting out.
Kayla gritted her teeth and flipped through the file.
Then glanced at the clock.
Then closed the file.
She put on the surgical gown and stepped out.
"Finally—let's go—" Claudia began.
Kayla followed silently as Claudia pulled her down the hallway toward the operating room, her steps loud and confident, still fueled by the earlier praise.
At the OR doors, Claudia adjusted her mask, plastered on a perfect professional smile, and pushed the doors open.
She walked in.
Kayla did not.
The doors slid shut behind Claudia with a soft hiss.
Kayla inhaled once—slow, steady.
Then she turned around.
As she walked away, she removed the surgical mask, glove, cap and gown, piece by piece, letting them slip from her fingers and dropping them neatly into the bin beside the elevator.
She pressed the elevator button and
waited then stepped inside.
Her reflection in the metal doors looked strangely calm.
As the elevator stopped at the ground floor, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She came out and walked toward the exit without hesitation. No fear. No guilt. No apologies.
At the door, she pulled out her phone.
Pressed the power button.
Held it.
The screen went dark.
She stepped outside and watched the door close.