The rain poured harder, blurring the streetlights into rivers of gold and shadow.Cielo’s pulse hammered in her ears as she gripped the steering wheel, her soaked hair sticking to her cheeks.Tobias stood outside, rainwater dripping down his face, staring at her like she had lost her mind.“Give me the keys!” she cried.“This is my car,” Tobias shot back, his voice was sharp as thunder. “You are not thinking straight.”Cielo’s chest heaved. “I know the city better than you! If you drive, we’ll get stuck in traffic before the toll bridges. I know every shortcut, every detour. Let me drive!”Tobias’s jaw tightened. He wanted to argue, to shout, to prove he was still in control — but one look at her trembling hands and desperate eyes told him she wasn’t bluffing.“This isn’t a game, girl,” he warned.“It’s not,” she shot back. “It’s my brother’s life!”That silenced him. For a long, tense moment, all he could hear was the rain beating against metal. Then Tobias exhaled, his breath foggi

“Please,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Don’t insult me by making me to get into a conversation with you.”The doctor’s words hit Tobias like a knife. Shame burned, anger followed, but under it all — a spark ignited. Was he going to prove them all wrong?“You call yourself a doctor,” Tobias said slowly, his voice trembling—not from fear, but from the sheer effort to contain the rage building inside him. “But you would rather let a child die because of money?”The words cut through the silence like lightning.Dr. Mendez folded his arms, his face tightening in disdain. “Don’t lecture me, Mr. Sheldon. Medicine runs on science, not sentiment. You think passion can power a ventilator? You think tears can fund a transplant?”Cielo froze by her brother’s bed, her knuckles turned white as she clutched Miguel’s hand. The boy’s chest rose and fell shallowly beneath the tubes. Machines beeped in slow, uneven rhythm, and the sound felt like a countdown.Tobias took one step forward.

Tobias stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I need information about this hospital — how it operates, who funds it, where the money flows. And you’ll give me your phone number. When I call, you’ll answer.”The doctor blinked, confused but compliant. “Yes… of course. Anything you need.” He quickly scribbled his contact on a small notepad from his breast pocket, his hands trembling slightly."I also need information about everything, I mean everything that goes on in this hospital including the bad, the fishy, the messy, the corruption, everything. I am requesting this from you because I have chosen to trust you and I know how to find you if you fail me, do you understand?" He looked in Dr Mendez eyes and he spoke with authority causing Dr Mendez to tremble at the voice of Tobias. Immediately the doctor found the nearest pen and paper and scribbled his number after which he handed it over to Tobias.Tobias took the slip, folding it neatly into his coat. His voice was low but decisive.

The air inside Tobias Sheldon’s office had changed.A few minutes ago, it smelled of tea and betrayal.Now, it reeked of tension, metal, and fear.The policemen stepped forward in formation, their boots echoing sharply against the marble floor. One of them — the captain, a tall man with a square jaw and the name tag Mendez — unfolded a sheet of paper from his hand.“Mr. Tobias Sheldon,” he began, his voice was official and unshakable. “You are under investigation for orchestrating a Ponzi scheme within the Pedroza Finance Group — a scheme that has scammed dozens of retired citizens of their life savings.”The words sliced through the silence like a blade.Tobias froze, his eyes widening. Then a low, disbelieving laugh slipped out of him.“A what?” he asked coldly. “A Ponzi scheme? Inside my own company?”Mendez’s face didn’t move. “We have substantial evidence suggesting that you’ve been siphoning money through falsified accounts under the pretense of investment returns.”El Pedro fol

The rain had stopped, but the air in the courtyard was still thick — heavy with the scent of tension and exhaust fumes. The world itself seemed to hold its breath as Don Esteban Dorada took another step forward.Each click of his polished shoe against marble echoed like a judge’s gavel.El Pedro stood frozen, pale as ash. His lips trembled; the confidence that once painted his smirk had evaporated under the cold stare of the man walking toward him. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but his legs betrayed him — heavy, weak, and shaking.Don Esteban stopped just a few paces away, the hem of his long black coat brushing the wet floor. His expression was carved from stone.He tilted his head slightly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.“Where is my money, El Pedro?”The courtyard went dead quiet. Even the policemen, still holding Tobias in cuffs, found themselves staring — caught between two forces far beyond their rank.El Pedro swallowed, his throat clicking dryly.