The $450 Manhattan Room Mystery: Why Was a Famous Surgeon Performing Midnight Blood Rituals Behind My Wardrobe Wall?
👉 Previous Decision: You chose to record video evidence, which led to your phone being fried and Dr. Finch offering you an NDA.
The next morning, I arrived at Mount Sinai, my mind still reeling from Finch’s chilling offer. I had not signed his non-disclosure agreement. I had no intention of becoming an accessory to whatever horror I had witnessed.
By noon, the hospital floor felt colder. My colleagues averted their eyes. Charge Nurse Mara Albright, a woman whose loyalty to Finch was legendary, found me near the pediatric ICU.
Her face was stony, her hands clasped tightly. “Clara, Dr. Finch has filed a report.”
My stomach clenched. “What report?”
“Emergency filing,” she said, her voice clipped. “Alleging you were caught attempting to steal fentanyl from the pediatric ICU stocks last night.”
My mouth fell open. “That’s a lie! I was in my apartment.”
Mara’s jaw worked. “HR is expecting you now. You’re on unpaid administrative leave, pending investigation.”
I walked through the bustling hospital cafeteria, every face a blur of suspicion. My legs felt heavy, my uniform a target. Finch had struck, and he had aimed for my career.
My small locker, once a refuge, now felt tainted. The thought of my $85,000 debt gnawed at me. Finch had reduced my rent to $100, but now I had no income.
This wasn’t just about the hole in the wall anymore. This was war.
Choose your next action
Seek help from Dr. Julian Rivera, an eccentric retired bioethicist who frequents a diner near the hospital. — Read CHAPTER 4 to continue
Break into the brownstone’s locked basement boiler room to search for physical evidence of Finch’s activities. — Read CHAPTER 8 to continue
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