Silence.
“Let him,” Richard ordered.
Leo stepped forward.
The room was ice cold. The baby’s skin pale.
Doctors watched with folded arms, waiting for failure.
Leo applied a small drop of oil under the baby’s jaw to reduce friction. Then he pressed gently along the swollen spot.
Nothing.
The monitor stayed flat.
Isabelle sobbed harder.
“Enough,” the chief doctor said. “This is pointless.”
Security reached for Leo again.
Then—
A tiny vibration beneath his fingers.
Leo acted instantly.
He lifted the baby slightly, angled him downward the way his grandfather once showed him when a stray kitten choked on plastic.
One firm pat.
Two.
Three.
A doctor shouted, “Stop! You’ll cause trauma!”
Four.
Leo pressed under the jaw and gave one quick, sharp thrust.
A small red plastic bead shot out and hit the marble floor with a sharp click.
For one frozen second, no one moved.
Then—
A cry.
Loud. Strong. Alive.
The heart monitor exploded back to life with jagged green lines.
Beeping.
Breathing.
Life.
The doctors stood pale and speechless.
It hadn’t been a tumor.
The baby had been choking on a bead lodged in his airway, hidden beneath swelling.