25. Giselle
GISELLE
G iselle stood in the OR, staring down at Sophie, the child’s face pale and vulnerable under the harsh lights.
She took a slow breath, forcing herself to focus on the tools laid out before her, on the movements she’d practiced a thousand times. But today, everything felt different. Each step felt as if she were moving through sand.
Her team was quiet, their eyes darting between her and the child on the table. She didn’t need to look at them to know they were tense, waiting for her to guide them through this .
The pressure was relentless, making her hands feel unsteady in a way they hadn’t been in years.
Giselle’s mind kept drifting, each thought tangling with the next. She couldn’t stop thinking about Addie—about her face, her eyes, the fear, and the accusation that had lingered in her gaze earlier.
“Clamp,” she ordered.
A nurse handed her the tool, but there was something hesitant in the motion, a hesitation that only tightened the knot in her chest. She was used to being in control and knowing exactly what came next.
But now every move felt unfamiliar, as if she were losing her footing more and more with each second that passed.
Giselle’s hands moved with precision as she made the initial incision, exposing Sophie’s chest cavity.
Her gaze was sharp and unyielding as she focused on the delicate structures beneath the skin.
The sight of Sophie’s small form, vulnerable and fragile, forced her to steady her breathing and lock every part of her mind onto the job before her.
This wasn’t just about skill now—it was about speed, accuracy, and unbreakable focus.
“Retractor,” she said, her voice low and controlled.
The nurse placed it into her hand and Giselle secured it in place, opening the area around Sophie’s heart. Her heartbeat drummed against her ribs, but she pushed it aside, letting muscle memory take over.
She assessed the bleeding, noting the accumulation of fluid pressing against the heart and compressing it into an unnatural shape. This was the cause of Sophie’s rapid decline.
“Drain,” Giselle ordered, reaching out as she watched the steady buildup of blood around the heart. Her nurse passed the tool and Giselle worked swiftly, inserting it to relieve the pressure surrounding the pericardial sac.
Blood began to flow through the drain and Sophie’s heart visibly relaxed, resuming its normal shape. Relief whispered at the edges of her mind, but she kept her expression neutral, every movement of her hands deliberate, each step measured .
“Good,” she said, almost to herself. “Suction here. Watch the levels.”
Her nurse nodded, focusing on the suctioning as Giselle worked to stabilize Sophie’s heart function. She looked up, catching a brief glimpse of Addie in the viewing room, her face pale and her gaze locked onto the scene below.
Addie’s hand was pressed against the glass, her expression a mix of fear and accusation that cut right into Giselle’s focus. She forced herself to look back at Sophie, her mind hammering out the need to focus, to fix this, no matter the weight pressing against her chest.
“Keep the drain steady,” Giselle instructed, glancing at the monitor as Sophie’s heartbeat leveled into a steadier rhythm.
Her shoulders eased, the tense knot there loosening, if only slightly. She checked the heart, looking for signs of further complications, each small detail taking shape in her mind like pieces of a puzzle.
“Clamp,” she said, stretching her hand out. The nurse handed her the tool, and Giselle worked to secure one of the small, torn blood vessels near the heart, closing it off with careful precision.
Everything was running smoothly—until it wasn’t.
The heart monitor blared, the rhythm erratic, the line jumping in uneven peaks and valleys. Giselle’s eyes snapped to Sophie’s heart, noting a sudden pooling of blood, faster than before. Something had reopened, an unseen tear letting blood flood into the cavity again, compressing the heart.
“Suction, now!” she ordered, the calm in her voice cracking, urgency sharpening her tone.
The nurse moved instantly, but the blood was building too quickly, covering every visible structure, making it impossible to identify the source.
She clenched her jaw, pushing away the surge of dread rising in her chest.
The blood wouldn’t stop, no matter how fast they suctioned.
“Another clamp,” she said, her hand steady as she took the new tool. She worked quickly, her gaze darting between the pool of blood and the drain. Every second felt like it stretched into eternity, the edges of her focus blurring as she worked, her hands moving in practiced rhythm.
“More suction. Keep it clear. Hang some more blood.” Her assistant’s movements mirrored her pace, their hands synchronized, but the bleeding didn’t slow. She knew she had only minutes to get it under control, or they’d lose Sophie.
Giselle adjusted her grip, pressing the clamp down as her mind raced to analyze what she couldn’t see, working through every possibility. Her gaze flicked to the monitor again—heart rate unstable, dropping.
“More suction,” she repeated, urgency biting into each word.
Another assistant nurse shifted, her hand hovering over the defibrillator, her face tight with worry.
“Not yet,” Giselle said sharply. “Focus on the suction. I can stabilize it.”
She applied pressure to the torn vessel, her hands firm but precise. The bleeding slowed, but not enough. Sophie’s heart continued to beat irregularly, the sound uneven and strained.
Giselle glanced up, catching Addie’s face through the glass again. Horror was etched into every line of her expression. She forced herself to look back at Sophie and block out everything but the child in front of her.
“Come on,” she whispered, her hands steadying as she worked, every ounce of her concentration narrowing to this single moment, this single chance.
Then the sound came—the long, flatline tone that filled the room. Giselle’s heart lurched, her mind freezing as she looked at the monitor and the thin, unwavering line stretched across the screen.
Giselle’s breath raced as she looked at Sophie, at the stillness of her small frame. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. Her hands moved automatically, reaching for the defibrillator.
“Clear!” she ordered, despite the tremor in her gut. She pressed the paddles against Sophie’s chest, willing the machine to work, for something to change.
But nothing did. The monitor stayed steady and unyielding, taunting her with silence.
Her team’s faces reflected her own doubt back at her. She saw the glances they exchanged, the way their expressions softened as if they were already accepting the outcome.
“Again,” she said, her voice sharp and her gaze fierce.
An intern shifted, his gaze flicking to the clock on the wall. “Dr. Carlisle…”
“I said again.” Her tone left no room for argument.
They followed, preparing for another shock, their movements slower now.
Through the glass window of the OR, Giselle caught sight of Addie. She was standing there, her hands pressed against the glass, her face a mask of anguish and anger.
“You promised, Giselle. You promised!” She heard Addie scream.
Madeline pulled her away from the glass. Giselle shut her eyes for a second. When she opened them, the flatline tone and Addie’s voice were still pretty audible.
“Do you even know what it means to love someone?” Addie’s voice carried through the window, muffled but unmistakable, piercing right through the thin layer of calm Giselle was trying to maintain.
Giselle’s jaw tightened. She glanced at the monitor, then back at Sophie. Her hands felt heavier, her mind barely able to process the words Addie had thrown at her.
“You’re too cold, too rigid. You don’t care about anyone!” Addie’s voice was louder now.
Giselle glanced back down at Sophie, her fingers trembling slightly as she forced them to move, to keep going, to ignore the voice that wouldn’t let her breathe.
“Addie, stop.” Madeline’s voice rang out from somewhere beyond the glass, calm but stern.
But Addie’s face didn’t soften.
Giselle closed her eyes for a brief second, forcing herself to block out everything, to ignore the stinging words and searing looks, and to focus only on the child before her. This was her job. This was why she was here—to help, to save lives, to do what no one else could.
“Again,” she said, her voice cracking slightly .
The team hesitated, but they moved to prepare the machine once more. Giselle gripped the defibrillator, her hands steady, her gaze locked on Sophie.