“I will see fear in his eyes.”
“And when he gets desperate,” I added, “when he begs for mercy, then you reveal who you are.”
Leo leaned back.
He looked at his hands – the hands of a specialist who had saved hundreds of lives.
The same hands that once clutched a broken wooden toy, crying in the rain.
“Remember, Mom?” Leo asked suddenly, his voice softening.
“When we lived in that tiny apartment with a leaky roof, when you had typhoid fever but didn’t want to go to the doctor because you were saving up money for my therapy.”
Tears welled up in my eyes.
“I remember. Back then, I wondered why my father was so cruel. What did I do wrong?”
“I started to hate my own leg.”
“Mom, I even wanted to cut it off for you so you wouldn’t have to work so hard to take care of me.”
A tear fell from my eye.
I quickly wiped it away.
“Don’t say that, son.”
“But you made me stronger,” Leo continued.
“You said my leg was a leg made of heaven. You worked day and night until your hands were calloused. You never gave up on me.”
“So today isn’t just about my revenge. It’s about defending your honor.”
He reached for the red folder again.
This time his hand was steady.
“I’ll do it. I’ll meet with him. I’ll make sure he understands that the disabled child he abandoned is now the only one who can save him—and I don’t want to do that.”
I smiled proudly.
My son was a man.
He was no longer a scared little boy.
He was strong and principled.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be there. I’ll be sitting in this room with my back to the door when he comes in.”
“I want to see his face when he realizes he’s walked into a lion’s den.”
Leo pressed the intercom button on his desk.
His assistant’s voice rang out.
“Yes, doctor?”
“Sarah, please call a patient named Mark Peterson on the waiting list downstairs.”
“Tell him the head of the department is ready to personally review his case—and immediately. Give him priority.”
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