My Cult-Leader Husband Stole My Credentials And Claimed I Was Hysterical Until An Old Letter Exposed What He Did To His First Assistant
The radio crackled with Agent Albright’s terse commands, but inside the compound, chaos was erupting.
David, realizing Marcus was missing from his post, had stormed into the medical records office. His face was a mask of furious desperation.
“The furnace!” he roared at the bewildered clerks. “All paper archives from 2018! Into the medical basement incinerator, now!”
His voice echoed through the sterile halls. He knew Marcus had reached out. He knew the net was tightening. His only chance was to erase the past.
I, still trapped in the infirmary closet, heard the commotion, the shouted orders. I knew what David was doing. He was destroying Lucas’s original ledgers, the proof of his poisoned reign.
Suddenly, a crashing sound from the furnace room in the medical basement. It was then I saw it—an old, heavy fire extinguisher chained to the wall of my closet, meant for emergencies.
With a desperate grunt, I swung the heavy canister, shattering the flimsy ventilation pane above the closet door. The glass fragments showered onto the floor. It was a tight squeeze, but it was my only way out.
I pulled myself through the opening, scraping my skin on the jagged edges, and dropped onto the infirmary floor. The air was thick with the scent of burning paper.
I ran towards the furnace room. The heavy steel door of the incinerator was open. David stood there, his face contorted with rage, throwing bundles of yellowed patient ledgers into the roaring inferno.
Just as he tossed the first batch of Lucas’s medical records into the flames, a figure stepped out of the shadows.
Marcus Bell. His uniform was rumpled, his hair disheveled, but his jaw was set.
He didn’t speak. With a guttural roar, he lunged for the furnace door. He grabbed a heavy piece of steel rebar, discarded from a past repair, and jammed it into the complex door mechanism, extinguishing the draft.
The furnace fire choked, sputtering out as the air supply was cut. Smoke billowed out, stinging my eyes.
David screamed in a primal fury. He grabbed a heavy iron rod that had been propped against the wall. He swung it with all his might, a sickening thud echoing through the room as it connected with Marcus’s head.
Marcus crumpled to the concrete floor, a dark stain blossoming on his temple. The iron rod clattered beside him. David stood over him, breathing heavily, his chest heaving, his eyes wild. He had just committed another act of violence, a step closer to pure, unadulterated madness.
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