My Uncle Locked Away My Roommate's Medical File When She Vanished — But When They Broke My Blind Cane, The Unsealed Safe Exposed The Supernatural Truth
A cacophony of screams and shouts erupted from outside. The alarm bells continued to wail, now accompanied by the frantic bleating of car horns.
Hundreds of students and parents, gathered for the afternoon assembly, scattered in sheer panic across the quad. I could see them through the now completely frozen window, tiny figures slipping on the suddenly icy cobblestones, their breath fogging in panicked gasps. Localized frost coated their shoes, their hair.
Cars in the parking lots, engines still warm from recent arrival, froze solid. Their windows instantly spiderwebbed with ice, engines sputtering and dying as the unearthly cold gripped them. It was like watching a sudden, impossible winter descend in seconds.
Arthur rushed to the window, his earlier despair now replaced by a frantic energy. “It’s spreading too fast!” he yelled, his voice strained. “The nexus is fully open!”
Just then, a sleek black limousine, incongruously pristine amidst the chaos, pulled up to the main gate. Julian Kincaid Sr. emerged, his face a thundercloud. He took one look at the shimmering cold mist engulfing the quad, the frozen fountain, and the terrified students, and his composure cracked.
He barked orders into his phone, his voice echoing across the courtyard even from this distance. He gestured wildly at the medical files now spread across Arthur’s desk.
“That’s Kincaid Sr.!” Clara exclaimed, rushing to the window. “He’s seen it. He’s seen everything!”
Within moments, a team of impeccably dressed lawyers, who had arrived with Kincaid Sr., were on their phones, their voices urgent. Kincaid Sr. walked directly to the main gates, his face a mask of furious determination, not stopping to check on his son.
He pointed at Arthur’s office, then back at the quad, speaking rapidly into his phone. “He’s pulling the endowment,” Clara whispered, her eyes wide with dread. “He’s revoking everything.”
“The $14,000,000,” Arthur murmured, his voice hollow. “All of it. Gone.”
The true, systemic collapse began. Julian Kincaid Sr., the primary financial donor, seeing the terrifying atmospheric anomaly and the exposed medical files, reacted with ruthless efficiency. His only concern was protecting his corporate holdings from any scandal, any association with this impossible disaster. He wanted to sever all ties.
His lawyers were already calling the university board, the state education regulators, and the press. The story wouldn’t be about a murder, but about an “environmental hazard” at Gable Academy. And the Kincaid Foundation wanted no part of it. The academy, already under supernatural siege, was about to face a far more immediate and devastating blow. Financial ruin.
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