Chapter 2Refused to Save My Brother

Disappointment, regret, sheer disbelief—a storm of emotions churned in their eyes.

"Enough, Elias," Lena snarled. "We all know if you do this surgery, it will be a success. Unless you don't want to save him."

Her eyes narrowed. "Or maybe... you want to kill him?"

I just chuckled softly and continued to gather the broken pieces of my flowerpot.

"This is insane!"

Their words washed over me, but I remained silent, my head bowed. Time was ticking away. Clark was running out of it.

Suddenly, a nurse burst in from the operating theater, her face pale. "It's bad! Colonel Thorne is flatlining! If we don't operate now, he won't last another ten minutes."

My mother swayed, her eyes rolling back in her head as if she might faint.

That's when Lena stepped forward, her fists clenched.

"Mom, Dad... let me do it. Let me perform the surgery."

"Elias and I studied under the same mentor. I've observed this procedure countless times. I know I can do it."

My parents trusted Lena, but this was Clark's life on the line. Their golden boy. Their everything.

My mother hesitated. "Lena, are you sure? The senior specialists all refused. You've never been the lead surgeon on something this complex."

A flicker of steel entered Lena's eyes. She shot a venomous glare in my direction.

"That's only because Elias hogs the spotlight, never giving anyone else a chance! The truth is, my skills are every bit as good as his now."

She pressed on, her voice filled with conviction. "I know this procedure inside and out. And with the help of Elias's surgical assistance mech, I'm confident I can succeed."

My body went rigid.

I had spent seven years developing that mech-assisted surgical system. It was designed for the most delicate operations, like suturing microscopic blood vessels, guiding the surgeon’s hand with inhuman precision. Its success rate was hovering around sixty percent.

The hope of saving Clark lit up my parents' faces, though a shadow of doubt remained.

"I've heard how difficult this is," my father said. "Can a machine really make the difference? I'm still not sure."

Lena was ready with a reassuring answer. "Don't worry. The assistance arm handles the fine motor skills, the impossibly precise suturing. Plus, I won't be alone. I'll have a full team of doctors assisting me."

As if on cue, a group of surgeons filed in from the hallway, all nodding their agreement, all offering their help.

I scanned their faces. Most of them were my own residents, my protégés.

And now, every single one of them had turned their back on me.

Tears of relief streamed down my parents' faces. They grabbed Lena's hands, their gratitude overflowing.

"Lena, my dear, if you pull this off, we'll write you a letter of recommendation to the Central Command Medical Center. You'll be made a senior consultant. And everyone who helps you, we'll make sure their superiors know of their valor."

My hand twitched again, a tremor of ice this time.

A position I had bled for, worked seven long years to achieve, and they could grant it to Lena with a single letter. A letter they had never once offered to write for me.

My heart, already a cold, dead weight, sank even lower.

"Hold on," I said, my voice cutting through their celebration. "You want to use my machine? Have you obtained my authorization?"

The atmosphere in the room instantly dropped back to absolute zero.

Lena stared at me, aghast. "Elias, have you lost your mind? Your brother is dying, and you're talking about authorization?"