What's Wrong With Being An Omega Nanny?-Chapter 72: Self-defence!

Chapter 72: Self-defence!
The morning sun bathed the Vortellion estate in a warm glow, but the atmosphere inside was anything but serene. Gerald sighed as he watched the children shuffle out the door to school, their backpacks slung carelessly over their shoulders. Getting them up and ready had always been a battle... spilt juice, arguments over socks, and one kid nearly forgetting his homework. It’s been hectic without a nanny. By the time they were in the car, Gerald was ready for his other task.
In the dining room, Milo had prepared a spread of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit, the aroma filling the air. Clara, ever the perfectionist, hovered over the kids before they left, making sure they ate every bite. She was trying hard to be the ideal mother, but the kids barely acknowledged her efforts, their responses limited to grunts and eye-rolls. As the door closed behind them, Clara turned to the breakfast table where Viktor and Luka sat, already digging into their plates.
Clara, dressed in a sleek blazer and skirt, was in high spirits, her voice bubbling with excitement. "So, I’ve got this big shoot today," she said, cutting into her pancakes. "It’s for a luxury brand, but you won’t believe what happened. They wanted me to pose with a male model —a guy with a chiselled jaw and zero personality. I told them no way. I’m not doing anything that could even look like cheating on Viktor." She glanced at Viktor, expecting a reaction, but his eyes were glued to his phone, his expression distant.
"Viktor?" Clara said, her tone sharpening. "Did you hear me?"
Viktor didn’t look up, his thumb scrolling through his messages. He was waiting for something from Nathan, though Viktor didn’t care much for Nathan’s flashy lifestyle, he couldn’t shake a nagging worry.
’What if something’s happened to him?’
he thought, his jaw tightening. Nathan was supposed to be back in the country, but there’d been no word.
Clara slammed her hand on the table, the clatter of cutlery cutting through the silence.
"Viktor!" she snapped, her eyes flashing. "Are you even listening to me?"
Viktor’s head snapped up, his glare cold. "I don’t care about your modelling drama, Clara," he said, his voice flat. "Do whatever you want."
Clara’s face fell, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Are you thinking about that nanny again?" she asked, her voice low but sharp. "He’s gone, Viktor. He’s never coming back. And even if he did, you can’t be with him. He’s an omega, and you hate omegas, don’t you?"
Viktor’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his phone. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.
"I’m done here," he said, his tone final.
Clara stood too, her hands on her hips.
"We’re engaged, Viktor. What’s the plan for the wedding? When’s it happening?"
Viktor smirked, his expression cold.
"I don’t care. Next year or never... pick one." He turned to Luka, who was watching the exchange with a barely concealed grin, clearly enjoying Clara’s frustration. "Luka, come with me."
Luka wheezed a laugh, grabbing his plate as he followed Viktor out of the dining room, leaving Clara standing alone, her fists clenched. "Unbelievable," she muttered, sinking back into her chair.
.
.
In Viktor’s office, the air was cooler, the large windows letting in a breeze. Viktor settled into his leather chair, his expression grim as he handed his phone to Luka.
"I need you to look into someone for me," he said, his voice low.
Luka raised an eyebrow, taking the phone. "Elias?" he asked, his tone cautious. "I’ve got his location if you want it. He’s on that field trip in the community near the health centre."
Viktor shook his head, his jaw tight.
"Not Elias. Not yet. I don’t want to drag him back and make him hate me more than he already does." He pointed to the phone, where Nathan’s name and number were displayed. "Nathan Caldwell. Track him down. See if he’s in the country."
Luka’s eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face.
"Nathan Caldwell? The matching centre guy’s son? How do you know him?"
"By accident," Viktor said, leaning back in his chair. "Just do it."
Luka nodded, pocketing the phone.
"Got it. I’ll get on it." He left the office, his mind already working through ways to trace Nathan’s whereabouts.
Viktor sat alone, his fingers tapping his phone against his jaw. He knew Elias was at the health centre, surrounded by students and professors, out of reach for now. But the thought of him... so close yet so far... gnawed at him. He wished he could meet with him. Somehow. He smirked, an idea forming. He dialled the university chancellor’s number, his voice smooth as the call connected. "Hello?"
.
.
Meanwhile, at the community health centre, the air was thick with the chaos of an understaffed hospital. Patients crowded the waiting room, their voices a low hum of complaints and coughs, while nurses darted between rooms, their faces strained.
Elias adjusted the white coat Dr Harris had given him, feeling out of place among the bustle. Dr Carter, the doctor in charge, had singled him out as his assistant for the day, and Elias couldn’t shake the unease that came with the man’s lingering stares.
Dr Harris, stationed in a corner of the main ward, was there to supervise the students, not to work directly with patients. She gave Elias an encouraging nod as Dr Carter led him through the hospital, introducing him to other doctors and showing him the ropes.
"You’ll stick with me today, Elias," Dr Carter said, his grin too wide. "We’ve got a lot to cover."
Elias nodded, keeping his responses short. "Okay," he said, his hands stuffed in his pockets to hide their trembling. The hospital was overwhelming... beeping monitors, hurried footsteps, the faint smell of antiseptic... but Dr Carter’s presence was what set him on edge. The man’s eyes lingered too long, making him so uncomfortable.
They moved from patient to patient, Dr Carter explaining procedures while Elias took notes. The work was straightforward... checking charts, handing out supplies, observing consultations... but Elias couldn’t relax. Jace and Rowan were elsewhere, busy with their own tasks, and Elias felt alone under Dr Carter’s scrutiny.
In one ward, they stopped by a patient’s bed, an older man with a fever and a persistent cough. Dr Carter handed Elias a syringe filled with a clear liquid. "This one needs an injection," he said, his tone casual. "It’ll help him sleep. He’s in a lot of pain, and painkillers aren’t cutting it anymore... he’s built up a tolerance."
Elias hesitated, his fingers tightening around the syringe.
"I can try," he said, his voice uncertain. "But I’m not perfect at this. I’ve only practised in class."
Dr Carter’s grin widened, and he stepped closer. "Don’t worry, I’ll guide you." He stood behind Elias, his hands hovering over Elias’s shoulders as he pointed to the patient’s arm. "Right here, see? Just line it up."
Elias froze, his body tensing as Dr Carter’s chest brushed against his back. The man’s hips pressed closer, too close, and Elias’s stomach churned.
’This isn’t right,’
he thought, his heart pounding. He’d suspected Dr Carter was trouble from the moment they met, and now he was sure. The man’s touch wasn’t accidental... it was deliberate.
Elias forced himself to stay calm, his mind racing for a way out.
"What’s in the syringe?" he asked, his voice steady despite the panic rising in his chest.
Dr Carter’s hands rested lightly on Elias’s shoulders, his voice low.
"It’s a sedative. Like I said, it’ll help him sleep. The guy’s in pain, and this is the best way to give him some relief."
Elias nodded, his eyes narrowing.
"Got it," he said, his tone neutral. He glanced at the patient, who was watching them with weary eyes, then back at Dr Carter, who was still grinning, oblivious to Elias’s growing disgust. "So, it’s just to knock him out?"
"Exactly," Dr Carter said, his voice almost cheerful. "You’re catching on quick. I knew you were a smart one."
Elias’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, his decision made. He adjusted his grip on the syringe, his movements slow and deliberate.
"Good to know," he said, turning slightly as if to prepare the injection. In one swift motion, he reversed the syringe and jabbed it into Dr Carter’s thigh, pushing the plunger to release the sedative.
Dr Carter yelped, cursing loudly as he stumbled back, clutching his leg.
"What the hell?!" he shouted, his face twisting in pain and shock. He shoved Elias away, his eyes wide with fury.
The commotion drew a crowd... nurses, a few patients, and Dr Harris rushed into the ward. "What’s going on?" Dr Harris demanded, her eyes darting between Elias and Dr Carter, who was swaying on his feet, the sedative already taking effect.
Elias held up his hands, his expression calm but his heart racing.
"He was getting too close," he said, his voice steady. "Kept touching me, pressing against me. I warned him."
Dr Carter’s face reddened, his voice slurring as he pointed at Elias.
"He’s lying! The kid’s crazy... he just attacked me!"
A woman in the next bed, her voice frail but firm, spoke up.
"He’s not lying," she said, her eyes narrowing at Dr Carter. "That doctor’s always touching me too... my laps, my back. Every time he checks on me, it feels wrong."
Another patient, a younger man, nodded.
"Yeah, I’ve seen him do it to others. Always thought he was creepy."
The room buzzed with murmurs, patients and staff exchanging glances. A senior doctor, who’d overheard the commotion, pushed through the crowd.
"Enough," he said, his voice authoritative. "We’re calling the police. This needs to be investigated."
Dr Carter’s eyes widened, his voice rising to a frantic shout.
"I’m innocent! You can’t do this! I... I..." But his words slurred further, and he collapsed to the floor, the sedative pulling him under. The room fell silent, everyone staring at the unconscious doctor.
Elias gave a small, innocent laugh, holding up the empty syringe.
"Self-defence," he said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. Dr Harris stared at him, her expression a mix of shock and approval, while the other students whispered among themselves, some casting wary glances at Elias.