The reveal

 THE REVEAL

The ballroom fell silent.

Dr. Kim's voice cut through the chaos like a gunshot. "Everyone, step back! Dr. Scarlet Hayes is the Chief of Neurosurgery at Seattle Grace Medical Center!"

The words hung in the air for a moment, suspended in disbelief.

Then the gasps came.

I watched my mother's face drain of color. Her champagne glass slipped from her fingers, shattering against the marble floor. The sound echoed through the sudden quiet.

Savannah's mouth fell open. She looked like someone had just slapped her across the face.

Lucas stared at me like I was a ghost. Like I was someone he'd never seen before in his entire life.

My father's face turned red. That angry, dangerous red I remembered from my childhood. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

But I didn't have time to enjoy their shock.

I ran towards the man, pushing through the crowd that now stared at me with shock and slight adoration. I dropped to my knees beside the collapsed man. My training kicked in immediately, overriding everything else. My fingers found his neck, pressing against the carotid artery.

“I—i will be back,” Dr. Kim quickly excused herself before I could protest. 

There was only a weak pulse. Irregular rhythm.

Not good. This was so not good. He was in great danger, and if I didn't receive…he could – he would die.

All because my family refused to believe me. I could have gotten to him sooner.

The guilt hit me, but I quickly pushed it to the back of my mind. I needed to save this man.

"He's going into cardiac arrest," I said, looking up at the frozen crowd. "Someone call 911 and get me a defibrillator NOW!"

At first nobody moved.

They all just stood there, staring at me like I'd sprouted a second head. Like they were still trying to fathom what was really going on. I couldn't actually blame them. 

Everything happened too fast.

"NOW!" I shouted with urgency, glaring at them above my head.

Luckily for me , it broke the spell. People scattered in every direction. Someone pulled out their phone and another person ran toward the hotel staff.

I tilted the man's head back, checking his airway. Clear. I positioned my hands on his chest, one over the other, and locked my elbows.

"One, two, three, four, five..."

I started compressions, counting steadily under my breath. The ballroom was completely silent except for my counting and the rustle of people moving around.

I could feel eyes on me. Hundreds of them.

My mother's hateful stare.

Savannah's shocked gaze.

Lucas's confused expression.

But I blocked them all out. This man on the floor was someone's father. Someone's husband. Maybe even someone's son. He deserved every ounce of my skill and attention.

"Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen..."

My arms burned but I kept going. Consistent pressure. Consistent rhythm.

I could feel tears burning at the back of my eyes…from exhaustion, fear of him not surviving. For being too weak to stand up to my family.

"Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty."

I tilted his head back again, pinched his nose, and gave two rescue breaths. His chest rose and fell.

Then back to compressions.

"One, two, three, four..."

"Dr. Hayes?"

Dr. Kim appeared beside me with her medical bag. Thank God. The team must have been nearby when everything happened.

"How long has he been down?" I asked between compression. Sweat had started to form on my forehead, and she quickly brought out a clean towel, wiping it off from my face.

"Maybe two minutes before I got to him," she said as she opened the bag.

I nodded, while she started preparing an ambu bag to help with breathing.

The paramedics burst through the crowd, pushing their equipment ahead of them.

I didn't stop compressions, just briefed them quickly. "Probable myocardial infarction, administered compressions for three minutes, no pulse yet—"

One of the paramedics took over compressions. Another started setting up the defibrillator.

I moved back, giving them space to work. My arms shook from the exertion.

"Charging," the lead paramedic announced. "Everyone clear!"

I stepped further back.

The man's body jerked as the shock went through him.

We all watched the monitor.

Nothing. Still flatline.

"Continue compressions," the lead paramedic ordered. "Charging again. Clear!"

Another shock.

Still nothing.

My chest tightened. Come on. Come on, damn it.

"One more time. Clear!"

The third shock hit.

And then, finally, a blip on the monitor. Then another. A rhythm. Weak and irregular, but there.

"We've got a pulse!" the paramedic announced, relief shining through his eyes. 

I also let out a breath of relief. He was so close — so close to dying. 

I tried not to think what would would have happened if Dr. Kim hadn't arrived soon enough and cleared the crowds from my path.

The crowd erupted in applause and relieved chatter.

But I barely registered it. My eyes went immediately to where Damian stood on the other side of the room, still holding Jace.

Dr. Kim grabbed my arm hard enough to hurt.

"Scarlet."

Something in her tone made my blood run cold.

"What is it?"

"There's an emergency at Minneapolis General. The Commissioner's nineteen-year-old son was in a car accident about twenty minutes ago." Dr. Kim's face was pale. "Severe head trauma. They need a neurosurgeon immediately."

My stomach dropped. "How severe?"

"Subdural hematoma with midline shift. Possible brainstem compression." Dr. Kim's eyes were grave. "Scarlet, he needs surgery now. You're the only neurosurgeon in the city who can handle this level of complexity."

I looked across the ballroom at Jace. He was asleep against Damian's chest, his small hand clutching the fabric of Damian's suit jacket. Peaceful. Safe.

My baby.

"I have Jace," I said quietly.

"I know." Dr. Kim's grip on my arm tightened. "But this boy will die without immediate intervention. His ICP is already critical."

The choice felt impossible.

My son or someone else's son.

My baby or a dying teenager.

How was I supposed to make this decision?

"Scarlet," Dr. Kim said urgently. "I need an answer."

I looked at Jace one more time. Then I looked at Dr. Kim's desperate face.

A nineteen-year-old kid with his whole life ahead of him.

"Get me to the hospital," I said.

I walked across the ballroom toward Damian. The crowd parted for me. People whispered as I passed. Some stared openly.

I heard my mother's voice, sharp and cutting even in the crowd noise.

"She always did have a flair for drama."

Savannah's laugh followed. "Can someone please wake me up from this nightmare?”