bed, tested corneal response, reviewed the ventilator, and ordered the sedative infusion stopped.
She also asked for the time and results of every examination used to declare brain death.
The attending doctor opened the electronic record.
His confusion deepened as he scrolled.
“The apnea test is listed as completed at 4:40 a.m.,” he said.
Dr.
Park looked at the respiratory therapist.
“Who performed it?”
The therapist shook his head.
“Not our department.
We were never called.”
Dr.
Park’s jaw tightened.
“A valid brain-death determination cannot be made while sedative or paralytic effects remain possible.
It also cannot be based on a test that may not have occurred.”
Ricardo’s face went white.
“Are you telling me my daughter was never brain dead?”
“I am telling you the declaration is invalid,” Dr.
Park said.
“We need to stabilize her and determine what is suppressing her responses.”
The distinction was careful, but hope exploded through Ricardo so violently that he had to brace himself against the bed.
Leo reached through the rail and touched Sophia’s wrist.
“I knew you were still here,” he whispered.
Marcelo scoffed.
“This is hysteria.
The child had a severe accident.
Everyone knows that.”
Three days earlier, Sophia had been found unconscious at the bottom of the indoor pool in the Castillo mansion.
She had been alone, according to Marcelo, who said he discovered her after hearing a splash.
Security cameras covering the pool corridor had stopped recording eleven minutes before the accident.
At the time, Ricardo had been too terrified to question the coincidence.
He had ridden in the ambulance with Sophia, begging her to breathe, while Marcelo stayed behind to manage the household and contact the family’s private medical team.
Now every detail returned with a different shape.
Dr.
Park ordered blood samples drawn immediately.
She had the infusion bag, tubing, pump, and remaining medication sealed as evidence.
A security officer searched beneath Marcelo’s chair and found the silver case Leo had described.
Inside were two empty vials, disposable gloves, a forged prescription, and a hospital access badge belonging to a private nurse named Celeste Varga.
Elena turned toward her brother.
“Marcelo, tell them this isn’t yours.”
“Of course it isn’t mine.”
“It was under your chair.”
“The boy put it there.”
Leo flinched as though struck.
Ricardo stepped between them.
“Accuse my brother’s child again and you will leave this hospital in handcuffs.”
Leo looked up at him.
No one in the Castillo family had ever called him that.
Marcelo heard it too.
His confidence cracked.
“You have lost your mind,” he told Ricardo.
“That gardener and his son have been circling this family for years.
They see wealth and opportunity.”
The accusation brought another man into the doorway.
Daniel Reyes, Leo’s father, still wore his green gardening uniform.
Soil marked his sleeves.
He had been summoned after hospital security learned a minor was in the suite.
He crossed the room and placed both hands on Leo’s shoulders.
“My son came here because he loves Sophia,” Daniel said.
“That is the only thing in this room he wants.”
Marcelo’s mouth curled.
“How noble.”
Daniel looked at him steadily.
“Last week, you offered me fifty thousand dollars to remove the pool camera equipment and destroy the hard drives.”
Ricardo turned.
Marcelo did not.
That was answer enough.
