During my night shift in the ER, everything changed in a single devastating instant. I had just finished examining a polytrauma patient when the voice over the loudspeaker echoed down the corridor:
—Code blue en route: three victims of a road accident. Adult male, adult female, small child.
I had faced countless emergencies throughout my career, but when the stretchers burst through the doors, my whole world collapsed.
My husband, Daniel .
My sister, Mariana .
And my three-year-old son, Mateo : unconscious, pale, motionless on blood-stained sheets.
Continued on the next pageI gasped for breath. I moved purely on instinct, pushing my way through the chaos, desperate to reach Mateo. But before I could, Dr. Álvaro Cruz stepped in front of me and grabbed my arms tightly.
— Sofia , don’t go in. Not now.
Her voice was low, tense, unlike anything I had ever heard from her before. I felt a lump close in my throat.
“Why?” I whispered, trembling. “They’re my family. What are you hiding from me?”
He lowered his gaze, his jaw rigid.
—I’ll explain everything when the police arrive.
