Contract Marriage: Married to My Ex-Husband's Alpha Stepfather [BL]

Chapter 208: The Friendship That Became A Legend

[FROLO]

In hospitals and clinics across the city, seven phones chimed at the same time with one message.

"The jet has crashed."

One by one, seven medical personnel left their stations. They didn’t need to ask questions about which jet had crashed.

Because they knew.

A gynecology professor at a university hospital was lecturing his students when his phone chimed. And he took one look at it, then turned to his students:

"Any tests scheduled for this week are postponed. Go through your notes."

He left the lecture hall before the students could even ask what happened.

A surgeon who had been studying his patient’s file for a uterine surgery scheduled that evening handed the file over to an associate doctor the moment his phone chimed.

"Are you alright, doctor?"

"Postpone all my surgeries by a week or give them to someone else. I have an emergency," the surgeon said as he grabbed his sweater and walked out of the hospital.

At a fertility clinic, a doctor excused himself:

"Doctor Hamid will handle all the appointments for a week. Please push forward all my appointments," then he left too.

Two nurses who had been stuck in traffic set their car to autopilot and stepped out to hail a taxi bike when they got the text.

A therapist who was in session with her patient suddenly ended the session:

"I have a family emergency, please forgive me. I’ll see you in a week," then she left the hospital.

At Aslava Hospital, the hospital director, Doctor Maxim, excused himself from a board meeting when he got the text:

"I have an emergency. My secretary will let me know what was discussed. I’ll be back in a week," he didn’t wait for any questions.

Just walked out the door like the other doctors across the city.

And so, the seven headed in the same direction, responding to the emergency text they had gotten.

The jet had crashed.

And it really had.

Thirty minutes later, at a private go-karting range, the seven doctors gathered in a dusty service room behind the range.

Their faces had the same expression.

Shock.

Horror.

And raw, unfiltered fear.

"We’re dead," the therapist said as she paced across the room like it was supposed to be normal for such meetings.

"We need to be strategic. He doesn’t know," the professor said, and the nurses just laughed at the absurdity.

"Doesn’t know? Is that what you’ve come up with on your way here? Doesn’t know?" the surgeon asked, as if that was the most dangerous of ideas for them.

Maybe it was.

Maybe it was not.

There was no telling.

But one thing was certain.

The Frolo they lived in yesterday was gone. A new Frolo had been born from the ashes of the Senate, and they had to be ready. No matter how terrifying it was for them.

No matter how dangerous this was bound to be.

They had to be ready.

"The pharmacist died yesterday morning. The midwife was strangled in her sleep last night. The accountant died by suicide, saying that he was sorry for everything. Three of us have been taken out already;

"...and you’re telling me he doesn’t know?" the surgeon asked, his horror something that was a mirror for everyone here. They had known that someday this was bound to happen, that there would come a day when what they did would be found out. \

But not like this.

Not like they were geese being hunted.

This was worse.

"Guys..." the professor said suddenly as he looked at one of the nurses who was swelling up. He looked like he was having an allergic reaction.

"The fuck is wrong with you? Why don’t you walk with your allergy meds?" Director Maxim asked, frustrated. They were already having a hard day, and fuck if this was another thing for them to deal with.

"I... k... I’m... can’t br... No allergies... I have no allergies," the nurse forced out, right before his entire body went still, his shape a round balloon that didn’t make any sense.

"He’s dead," the other nurse said, and everyone stiffened.

"He knows," Director Maxim said, trying to keep a straight face even though this was the most dangerous thing he had ever witnessed in his career as a doctor.

A medical professional who was healthy was suddenly bleeding from all openings and had no pulse. That wasn’t the kind of shit that happened with ease.

"No shit sh—" the fertility doctor began, only for him to fall to the floor, a bullet hole in his head. The bullet had gone through and through and lodged itself in the other nurse’s right arm.

"Oh, my god. He knows!!!" Everyone began panicking.

This service room had always been their safe space for their dealings for several years, and now it was easily the most dangerous of places to be. Yet they couldn’t even step out because they had blood on them.

Someone knew where they were.

Someone could see what they were doing.

"What do we do?" the therapist asked, shaking like a leaf as she tried to make sense of what was happening around them.

They were cornered.

"If we confess, we live. Even if it’s just for a few minutes longer," the panicking professor suggested. It was the most reasonable choice right now because a confession was better than denying the truth. Five of them had already fallen.

"Are you stupid? If we confess, we ruin our careers. We ruin our lives!" Director Maxim said, and the other four looked at him like he had very well lost his mind.

"If we don’t, there won’t be any lives to ruin or careers to save," the surgeon argued, and Director Maxim looked at them, rage in his eyes, hot; he knew this was not the time for them to be having a humanitarian crisis.

"If you confess, I will kil—" the director began as he pointed his gun toward the group that had remained. Only for someone to shoot his hand and for the gun to drop on the ground.

"Who did t—" the therapist questioned, but she didn’t even get her question out before the director fell to the floor, there were four bullets in his abdomen.

Three from a sniper shot.

And one...

From the nurse with a bullet wound in her arm.

"Get out your phones. We are making that confession now. I’m not going to stand here and be killed," the nurse said, and the surgeon looked at the nurse, his shock obvious. Still, he pulled out his phone and turned the camera on.

"Set it to livestream. The professor has an active social media account with a good number of followers," the nurse said, and the professor stared at her, but she kept the director’s gun pointed at the professor.

"Now!!!!" the nurse shouted, her hands shaking like this was a first for her, too. But then fear was a really good motivator, and right now her life was about to be doomed, and she wasn’t going to stand and watch it all unfold.

"Gee, fine! I’m logging in, alright?" the professor said as he used the surgeon’s phone to tap into his account. Then he started a livestream.

The nurse, the surgeon, the therapist, and the professor stood in front of that camera, the gun forgotten on the floor, as they began confessing the kind of shit that had the entire Frolo in a worse chokehold.

By the time they were done, everyone watched as the other nurse was taken out by sniper shots.

On livestream.

But that couldn’t be as shocking as their confession.