The operating room fell silent as every machine flatlined. The shrill, continuous beep of the heart monitor echoed off the sterile walls like a death knell.
I stood beside Mia Cruz's motionless form, my hands already moving to check her pulse points. Nothing. Her skin was growing cold beneath my fingertips.
"Time of death, 3:47 PM," Dr. Webb announced solemnly, reaching for his clipboard.
"Not yet," I said firmly, placing both hands on Mia's chest.
Dr. Webb looked up sharply. "Mr. Hayes, I understand this is difficult, but the child has been without a heartbeat for twelve minutes. Even if we could restart her heart now, the brain damage would be severe."
"Twelve minutes isn't too long," I replied, beginning to remove my jacket. "Not if you know what you're doing."
The surgical team exchanged skeptical glances. I could feel their doubt radiating through the room like a physical force.
"Everyone step back," I commanded, rolling up my sleeves.
