The delivery room was a flurry of activity as the medical team worked together to bring new life into the world. They could all feel the pressure building with the constant screams of the patient.
Dr. Isaac, a seasoned obstetrician, stood at the foot of the bed, gloved and ready to assist. Midwives Rachel and Emily flanked the bed, coaching the mother, Sarah, through each contraction.
"It's time to push, Sarah!" Rachel encouraged, as Emily monitored the baby's heart rate.
With a deep breath, Sarah bore down, her face contorted in effort. The room fell silent, except for the sound of the baby's heartbeat and Sarah's labored breathing.
Suddenly, a tiny head crowned, followed by a pair of small shoulders. Dr. Isaac gently guided the baby out, and with one final push, the newborn slid into the world.
"It's a boy!" Dr. Isaac exclaimed, holding up the squirming infant for all to see.
The room erupted in joy and relief as the medical team worked to suction and stimulate the baby. Rachel wrapped him in a warm blanket, and Emily handed him to Sarah, who cradled him close, tears of joy streaming down her face.
"Hello, little one," she whispered, gazing into her baby's eyes for the first time.
The baby responded with a loud, cute cry, tears streaming down his face.
Rachel ran out of the labor room, returning moments later with a man in his mid-thirties. He wore an expensive black luster suit, had jet-black hair, and an athletic build that made it look as though he was still in his twenties.
"You were serious? I... it's a boy this time," he said, shock written across his face.
"Honey! We have our first son!" Sarah said, her voice trembling with emotion.
The man walked over and sat beside his wife, looking at the baby sleeping in her arms. A cheerful smile played on his face. He stood up and walked toward where Dr. Isaac was watching the pair of mother and son.
"Thank you, Doctor, for all you've done for my family. Without you, my long-awaited son would not have been born," he said.
"You praise me too much, Mr. Jones. This humble servant is just glad to have witnessed the birth of the next successor of the Smith family. I know he will surely surpass his father in both talent and wealth," Dr. Isaac replied.
Those words would be the beginning of Dr. Isaac's downfall.
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Thanks, that's very clear. Based on both chapters and your instructions, I'll now complete Chapter Two in third person POV, showing deeper emotional layers and dialogue-driven relationships between:
Jace and his father (Jones Smith) – cold, pressured, strained
Jace and his mother (Sarah) – warm, protective
Jace and his sisters – loyal, chaotic, fiercely loving
I'll match the tone you used: slightly sarcastic, dramatic, with emotional highs and lows.
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Years later, the once-celebrated doctor now begged on the streets. The very man he praised, Jones Smith, had ruined him. All because of the son born that day—Alex Smith.
Alex was born into the most powerful and affluent family in the world—the Smiths. A lineage of brilliance and excellence. Every child born into that family was a prodigy. Sports, music, business, art—you name it. The Smith bloodline was synonymous with greatness.
But Alex? He was different.
From a young age, it was clear that Jace lacked what the Smith family revered above all—talent.
At six, he failed his entrance IQ test to the Royal Crest Academy—twice. His father, Jones, nearly had a stroke in the family courtyard when the results were hand-delivered by the academy's headmaster.
"You're telling me… my son scored what—fifty-seven?" Jones's voice was dangerously calm, the calm before a storm.
"Fifty-two, sir," the headmaster had corrected. "Out of a hundred."
Jones stood there for a moment, silent. Then he turned to Sarah, his wife. "Is there something you want to tell me, Sarah? Because my son—my blood—cannot be this... dumb."
Sarah's eyes blazed. "Jones, he is your son! Don't you dare question that again!"
Alex, at the age of six years old, stood behind the door, hugging a teddy bear named "Captain Genius," who, ironically, was smarter than he was.
From that day on, the distance between Jones and Alex widened. His father refused to attend school functions. He skipped birthdays. He replaced affection with cold nods, and every word he spoke to Alex felt like a calculated jab.
But Sarah—she never changed.
She always had a smile for her son, a hug ready, no matter how bad the report card looked.
"You don't need to be a genius, Alex," she would say, running her fingers through his messy black hair. "You just need to be kind. That's enough for me."
And his sisters? Oh, his sisters were insane—in the best possible way.
There was Alyssa, the oldest. At 17, she was already a global chess champion and fluent in five languages. But she'd throw away a gold medal if anyone dared insult her little brother.
"Who said he's dumb?" she snapped once at a teacher's conference, slamming her school tablet on the desk. "Say that again. I'll show you how dumb I can get."
Then there was Sophie, the middle child. Twelve years old, music prodigy, once called "Mozart's spiritual twin" in Forbes. But when Alex failed his piano class, she had other plans.
She threw a mini-concert in the school cafeteria titled "This Is My Brother, and I'll Break Your Speakers if You Laugh at Him." Alex cried happy tears. Her principal cried for suspension.
And lastly, the youngest—Lily, who was somehow eight but already outsmarting their family accountant.
She loved to sneak cookies to Alex late at night and say, "Don't worry, Alex. If they don't like you, I'll buy you a planet when I grow up."
Despite all this love, the weight of failure never left Alex. At family dinners, he was the ghost at the table—seen, but not heard.
Jones sat at the head, flanked by his brilliant daughters, pride gleaming in his eyes… until they landed on Jace. Then, just silence. Judgment.
One evening, Alex built up the courage to ask, "Dad… are you proud of me?"
Jones didn't even look up from his wine. "What for?"
Those three words. Like a punch in the chest. Sarah's fork clattered onto her plate.
"You know what, Jones?" she snapped. "You don't get to do this. He is your son. He may not have talent in what you want, but he has a heart. And he still tries, every single day."
Alyssa stood too. "If he's a disappointment, then we all are. Because we're a family. We either shine together or fall together."
Jones looked at them all and said nothing.
And Alex, sitting quietly, whispered only loud enough for himself to hear:
"Maybe I really was born just to be the mistake of the family…"
But still, despite the coldness of his father, Alex found warmth in his mother's arms, chaos in his sisters' love, and peace in the quiet corners of the house they couldn't lock him out of.
He didn't hate his life—not yet.
Not until that certain incident unfolded.
And after that day, the boy who had no talent… would never be the same again.
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