Page 83 of Secret Baby's Second Shot

Enzo smiled, his arm draped over the back of the couch. “She’s an inspiration. She doesn’t even realize it yet.”

I nodded, my chest swelling with pride as I watched Ava play on the floor. “She’s incredible.”

That night, as I tucked Ava into bed, she looked up at me, her eyes shining. “Mommy, do you think other kids will be brave like me?”

“I think you’ve shown them how,” I said, brushing a curl from her face.

Her smile was sleepy but proud. “Then I’m glad we told them.”

I kissed her forehead, my heart full. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

47

ENZO

The conference room was colder than usual, or maybe it just felt that way because of the weight of what I was about to face. The hospital board members sat around the long table, their faces carefully neutral, waiting for me to begin. My palms were slightly damp, but I kept my expression calm as I straightened my tie and took a seat at the head of the table.

“Dr. Pearson,” the board chair began, her tone measured but not unkind, “thank you for coming today. We’ve all had time to review the concerns regarding the foundation’s recent controversy. We’re eager to hear your perspective and, more importantly, how you intend to move forward.”

I nodded, my hands resting on the polished surface of the table. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity. I know the last few months have brought unexpected attention to the hospital and the foundation, and I take full responsibility for my part in that.” I glanced around the room, meeting each board member’s gaze. “But I also want to clarify that my decisions were never about manipulating the system or taking advantage of the foundation’s generosity. They were about saving my daughter’s life andsupporting a mother who had already done everything she could to fight for her child.”

The room was quiet, the tension palpable as the board members exchanged glances. The chair leaned forward slightly, her expression softening. “Dr. Pearson, no one here doubts your dedication to your daughter or your integrity as a doctor. However, the concern lies in how this situation was perceived by the public. The foundation’s reputation, as well as the hospital’s, has come into question.”

I nodded again, my voice steady as I replied. “I understand that, and I regret any damage that has been done. But I also believe this situation has highlighted an opportunity for growth. The foundation’s policies needed to be revisited, and thanks to the courage of families like Summer’s, we’re making those changes. Moving forward, I’m committed to ensuring that this hospital and its programs prioritize compassion and accessibility above all else.”

The meeting continuedfor nearly an hour, filled with questions about my decisions and the steps I planned to take to rebuild trust. I answered each one as honestly as I could, focusing on my commitment to my patients and my belief in the hospital’s mission. By the time the meeting adjourned, the weight on my chest had begun to lift.

As I stepped out into the hallway, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Summer.Meeting went well. I’ll tell you everything tonight. Give Ava a hug for me.

Later that week,I was walking through the pediatric wing when I was approached by Dr. Cartwright, one of the seniorphysicians. His expression was warmer than I expected, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Pearson, got a minute?”

“Of course,” I said, matching his pace as we walked toward his office.

He gestured for me to sit, leaning against the edge of his desk. “I’ve been hearing good things about you. The way you handled the foundation controversy, the way you’ve stayed focused on your patients—it’s impressive.”

“Thank you,” I said, though I was still unsure where this was going.

“I’ve got a proposition for you,” he said, his tone shifting slightly. “We’re launching a new pediatric initiative—one that focuses on integrating advocacy and care for families dealing with chronic illnesses. It’s a big project, and we need someone with the right mix of medical expertise and personal experience to lead it. I think that someone is you.”

The words hit me like a jolt. “You’re offering me the position?”

“I am,” he said with a nod. “Your work speaks for itself, Enzo. And after everything you’ve been through with Ava, I think you bring a perspective that no one else can.”

That evening,I sat with Summer on the couch, her legs tucked under her as we watched Ava play with her magnetic tiles on the floor. I told her about the offer, watching as her expression shifted from surprise to pride. “Enzo, that’s incredible,” she said, her hand resting on my arm.

“It’s a lot of responsibility,” I admitted. “Balancing it with everything else won’t be easy.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she said, her voice steady. “You always do.”

I looked at her, my chest tightening with emotion. “I wouldn’t have gotten through any of this without you and Ava.”

Her smile was soft, her eyes shimmering. “We’re a team.”

The following week,I accepted the position, officially stepping into the role of heading the new pediatric initiative. The announcement was met with an outpouring of support from my colleagues and the community, many of whom had followed Ava’s story.

At the press conference announcing the program, I stood at the podium, my heart pounding as I looked out at the crowd. Summer and Ava were in the front row, their presence grounding me. “This project is about more than medicine,” I began, my voice steady. “It’s about the people behind the diagnosis—the families who fight every day for their loved ones. It’s about ensuring that every child has access to the care and support they need, no matter what.”

I paused, my gaze shifting to Summer and Ava. “And it’s about gratitude. Gratitude for the people who inspire us to be better. For me, that’s my daughter, Ava, and her mom, Summer. They’ve taught me what it means to truly fight for what matters.”

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