My staff tried to ruin my business while I was gone, so I became their worst nightmare.

The Unannounced Return

My casino manager spread rumors I’d abandoned the business while counting cash with my employees and laughing. When I confronted him, he bragged,

“I haven’t seen that fucker in months. He doesn’t gaff about this place.”

I just stared at him. That was eight months ago.

Yesterday, he was sitting on the floor surrounded by shredded paper with his head in his hands. I’d been away from my casino on personal leave and wanted to see how my employees operate when no one’s breathing down their necks.

Instead of scheduling a formal inspection, I showed up unannounced while my manager was in Singapore. Nothing could have prepared me for what I went through that night.

I walked through the front doors and immediately noticed something was off. The security guard at the entrance looked at me with obvious disgust.

I dressed down in an old shirt and worn jeans and hadn’t shaved for three days to avoid being recognized.

He muttered to his partner, “Ultra gringo droto gastanoska the welfare,”

another mothhead white boy wasting his welfare check, which made them both laugh.,

Though I understood every word, I kept quiet and headed for the penny slots. The cocktail waitress passed by my machine three times before I finally got her attention.

When she saw my small pile of crumbled bills, she told me water was free but I’d need to pay upfront for anything else. She actually wiped her hands on her apron after touching my money.

It was clear she thought that I couldn’t afford it. The dealer at the nearest blackjack table kept glancing over and told his colleague these types always hit their wives when they lose.

My luck got better when I won thirty dollars on the slots. But when I went to cash out, the cashier immediately called security over.

She said, “Siesta yoni robo features,”

telling them to check if this junkie stole any chips.

The security guard bumped me hard into the machine before patting me down aggressively. His hands were rough as he checked every pocket.

As he did that, the men laughed that my kids were probably home hungry while daddy got high at the casino. The commotion had drawn the attention of a pit boss who strutted over like he owned the place.,

He took one look at me and shouted that I was exactly the type who’d pimp out his own mother for substance money. The other employees laughed and agreed, with one suggesting I probably already had.

A female dealer added that men like me were why she carried pepper spray and that we were all potential rapists who couldn’t handle rejection. Another employee chimed in that I looked like the kind of pervert who hung around playgrounds.

I forced myself to stay calm and turned back to the dealer, trying to keep my voice steady. Someone else muttered that I probably lived under a bridge.

I asked, “Where’s the owner of this place?”

Suddenly, he burst out laughing.

“I haven’t seen that fucker in months. He doesn’t gaff about this place.”

My heart dropped. The reason I had taken leave was to help take care of my newborn baby girl.

Eight months of sleepless nights and diaper changes occurred while my company fell apart. All I could think about was my personal leave and how my manager had sworn he’d maintain the highest standards.,

A Sinister Discovery in the Back Room

Things took a darker turn when I headed to the bathroom. That is when I noticed staff members leading teenagers through a side door into a back room I hadn’t authorized.

Following at a distance, I found young kids, some who couldn’t have been older than thirteen, sitting at rigged slot machines. A staff member slapped food from a crying girl’s hands.

He said, “Winners eat, losers play.”

They were hunched over machines with dark circles under their eyes. Some were barely able to keep their heads up.

Another girl who looked around nine was softly crying as she pressed the buttons. I heard a staff member tell her she still owed three hundred dollars before she could leave.

I recognized what was going on immediately; any high-end casino owner would. They were using children as collateral for their parents’ debts.

The rage that built in my chest was unlike anything I’d ever felt.

I demanded, “What the hell is going on here?”,

I was unable to stay silent any longer. The night manager grabbed me by the collar, his face twisted in anger.

In Spanish, he told others I was just another gringo trying to play hero, probably hoping to touch the kids myself. Before I could respond, he was calling for security, shouting that I’d seen too much.

Two guards appeared immediately. One landed a solid punch to my stomach that doubled me over before dragging me through the casino.

My feet scraped against the carpet as they hauled me like a sack of garbage. I could taste blood in my mouth from where I’d bitten my tongue.

But I wasn’t worried. When all was said and done, I was going to use my power to make them pay.

The Investigation Begins

Outside in the parking lot, bleeding from my mouth, I pulled out my phone with shaking hands. I texted my manager in Singapore, demanding an immediate video call.

Through the glass doors, I could see the night manager watching me. That same twisted smile was on his face as he mocked me with exaggerated gestures.

My hands trembled as I typed, blood dripping onto the screen. The Singapore manager didn’t answer; of course he didn’t.,

I sat in my car for a moment, spitting blood into a napkin. Then, I drove straight to my home office.

My rage had crystallized into something cold and purposeful. I logged into the casino’s cloud backup system, my fingers flying across the keyboard.

I began pulling security footage from the past weeks. What I saw made my stomach turn.

Children were being brought in through side entrances. Parents were signing papers while crying kids slumped over machines for hours.

Staff members were physically preventing them from leaving. My hands shook with rage as I watched weeks of recorded abuse unfold on my screens.

My wife found me at 3:00 a.m. still watching footage. She gasped when she saw a child crying at one of the machines and her face went white.

The child looked exactly like her nephew from her sister’s family. She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin as we watched the timestamp from just two weeks ago.

I needed answers. At the local twenty-four-hour diner, I met my head of security off-duty.,

He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes. After making sure we weren’t being watched, he admitted he’d been threatened to stay quiet about the backroom operations.

His hands shook as he described what he’d seen. He told me how they’d threatened his family if he spoke up.

The next morning brought another shock. I discovered the Singapore trip was fake; my manager had been in town the whole time orchestrating everything.

The hotel records showed no check-in, no flights booked, nothing. He’d been here running this operation right under my nose while I’d been home with my daughter.

Driving past the manager’s house at dawn, I saw him leaving with the night manager. They were counting cash and laughing, with thick stacks of bills passing between them.

My knuckles went white on the steering wheel as I watched them celebrate their profits from exploiting children. At my lawyer’s home, still early morning, I learned the harsh reality.

Reporting to authorities would trigger a lengthy investigation that could shutter the casino for months. Hundreds of legitimate employees would lose their livelihoods.,

My lawyer’s face was grim as he explained the choice I faced: justice or jobs. My wife called while I was driving home, and her voice was shaking.

She’d been getting threatening calls about her baby. The caller knew specific details, like how the nursery window faced east.

Someone had been watching our house and studying our routines. My blood ran cold.