One of the girls, Hazel, lifted her face toward Mira’s voice—actually turning toward a sound for the first time.
Benjamin’s chest tightened.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me this?” he whispered.
Mira lowered her eyes.
“Because treating the children of a powerful man is dangerous. If anything went wrong—even if it wasn’t the surgeon’s fault—careers would be ruined, boards would panic, reputations would crumble.”
She looked up at him, tears filling her eyes.
“But they can see. They just need help.”
Benjamin swallowed hard, hope and heartbreak colliding.
“We’re going to the hospital. Now.”
AT THE HOSPITAL THAT FAILED THEM
St. Brigham’s Medical Center was polished and gleaming, but when Benjamin stormed into the ophthalmology wing, panic rippled through the staff.
“You told me my daughters were blind,” he said through clenched teeth. “Explain the reflections in their pupils.”
Doctors stuttered.
Avoided eye contact.
Finally, one muttered:
“We… didn’t want to risk complications.”
Mira’s voice cut sharply through the room.
“You didn’t want to risk your reputations. So you let three children live in darkness.”
Silence.
A shameful, cowardly silence.
Benjamin turned to Mira.
“Tell me what to do.”
Her voice steadied.