But this was different. This wasn’t her brother; it was the son of a powerful man. And she was nobody—just a servant with no rights.
If she messed up and hurt him, she’d go to jail. If she was right but David found out she’d interfered, she’d lose everything: her job, her income, her grandmother’s care.
— “Lord,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “what do you want from me?”
The only answer was the ticking of the clock. Vicky went to the window. Somewhere in that massive house, a little boy was sleeping with pain and silence inside him.
And she was the only one who knew the truth.
— “I’m scared, I’m so scared,” she admitted to the darkness. — “But if this is Your will…”
She remembered another bit of wisdom: “The Lord doesn’t call the equipped; He equips the called.”
Vicky wiped her tears and made her choice. If Mike showed he was in pain again tomorrow, she would act. She would trust what she saw, even if it cost her everything.
She lay down, her heart pounding, but a strange peace came over her. It was the heavy peace that comes when you decide to jump into the unknown, trusting you’ll be caught. Tomorrow was coming, and with it, the moment of truth.
Evening came too quickly. David was out at a business dinner. The house was quiet. Vicky was sorting laundry in the hall when she heard it again.
A dull thud. Her heart stopped for a beat. She ran.
Mike was on the floor in the hallway, curled up, clutching his ear. His face was twisted in agony, tears flowing. Vicky dropped to her knees beside him.
— “I’m here, Mike, I’m here.” She gently tilted his head toward the wall sconce.
The dark mass was very clear now; it seemed to have shifted and was pressing hard against the canal. Her hands were shaking, but she knew it was now or never.
She pulled a pair of sterilized tweezers from her pocket—she’d taken them from the first-aid kit days ago, just in case. Her breath came in short gasps.
— “Lord, steady my hands, please,” she whispered.
Mike looked at her with wide eyes, full of fear but also a strange trust.
“I won’t hurt you, I promise,” she signed with one hand.
He gave a slow nod.
Vicky took a deep breath, held it, and with extreme care, reached into the ear canal. Her hand shook for a second, then became rock steady. She felt the mass—it was dense and stubborn.
She carefully gripped the edge and pulled. There was resistance. Her heart was in her throat. She pulled again, slowly, millimeter by millimeter, and suddenly, the tension snapped.
Something slid out. It fell into her palm. A dark, compressed, hardened plug of wax and debris. Years of buildup that had stolen the boy’s hearing.
Vicky stared at it with a mix of horror and relief. But before she could react, Mike suddenly let out a sharp gasp. It was a real, audible gasp…
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