My Corrupt Uncle Forced Me to Work off Fake Mob Debts in a Backroom Clinic — Until My Sleeves Rolled Up and Revealed My Late Father's Elite Trident Tattoo
Back at the clinic, the tension was a physical weight in the air. Captain Nico, his face grim, was on the phone, his voice low and guttural. He paced the hall outside Leo’s room, occasionally glancing at me, his gaze unreadable.
I knew the information Leo had given him, combined with my presence and the trident mark, had changed everything. Victor was cornered.
Suddenly, the lights flickered, then died. The rhythmic hum of the ventilation system choked to a halt. The entire clinic plunged into total darkness, save for the emergency exit signs glowing faintly red.
A cold, metallic clang echoed from the basement. Victor. He had cut the main breaker.
Panic began to rise in my chest. The darkness was absolute, disorienting. I fumbled for my phone, trying to switch on the flashlight, but it was dead. I had forgotten to charge it.
Footsteps pounded above me, frantic and heavy. I heard Victor’s voice, shouting orders.
“Eviction notice! Emergency injunction! Get everyone out of here!”
He was creating chaos, trying to force everyone out. I heard the frantic voices of the junior clinic assistants, trying to gather their things in the dark.
Then, from below, a loud, deliberate thud. Another clang. Victor was locking the basement emergency exits. I could almost hear the rusty bolts sliding home.
He was making sure I was trapped.
I ran to the nearest basement door, pulling at the handle. Locked. I tried another, and another. All sealed tight. The air grew heavy, suffocating. I was in the lower storage rooms, surrounded by walls of concrete, metal shelving, and now, impenetrable darkness.
Victor hadn’t just cut the power. He had cut off my escape. He was coming for me, and this time, he wasn’t sending guards. He was doing it himself.
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