Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 47525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Less than forty-eight of them…
That’s all that remains to run the truth serum tests. And while I’ve always thrived under pressure, I can feel Sadie’s chances at freedom slipping through my fingers with every second.
There’s no room for extra calls to her new lawyer. No time for fresh research. Just her, strapped to a chair, while I record everything she says and present it to the behavioral team. Then I’ll make my official recommendation to the parole board and submit her mental status to the court, in case she gets another trial.
“Something needs to fucking give…” I mutter. “I can’t afford to be wrong.”
I’m running through every scenario again—checking cracks, recalculating risks—when Robin calls.
“Tell me you have something new,” I answer.
“Something new, something pretty, and something ugly.”
“Start talking.”
“The pretty,” she says. “I paid the warden a visit. He’s agreed to let Sadie complete the full fourteen days in the program. Tomorrow counts as day nine—he’s decided not to count her arrival night.”
“How the hell did you get him to agree to that?”
“I pulled some strings I’d rather not explain. Just know you owe me.”
“I do.” I smirk. “Thank you. Now what’s the ‘new’ and ‘ugly’?”
“They’re one and the same. There was a long gap in the cabin’s surveillance footage. The tech team says the audio and video were looped.”
I exhale sharply. “I meant something relevant to her case, Robin. Not a tech hiccup.”
“When you brought me on, you said this experiment would run the same way every single time. No variables. No surprises. Just control. Truth.”
“My parents died a long time ago,” I say. “I don’t take lectures from anyone else.”
“A convicted triple murderer went unmonitored for hours in your cabin. Explain that.”
“She sutured a cut on my arm during Night Ten, and the first-aid kit is in my bathroom. That’s why.”
“That’s not the gap I’m referring to.” Her voice tightens. “I mean Night Seven.”
I go silent.
“Thanks for confirming there’s another missing segment, though… You didn’t let her stitch you up with her mind, did you?”
“Correct. She did it telepathically. I’m considering hiring her as a mentalist when she’s released.”
“If she’s released,” Robin fires back. “And you know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.”
“Don’t make me say it, Dr. Weiss.”
“You’ve never questioned any other surveillance lapses.”
“Because there haven’t been any,” she says. “And because you’ve never looked at any other patient the way you look at Sadie Pretty.”
“Come again?”
“You’re attracted to her. Deeply.”
“Robin—”
“It’s the only reason you took this case when everyone else warned you against it. You saw her face in the papers, lusted after her like every other man who’s caught a glimpse of her eyes, and now you think you can fix her.”
“Who said she was broken?”
Silence.
I should deny it more forcefully, tell her she’s out of line for even suggesting that I’m attracted to a patient, but I can’t…
“When you return to being the Dr. Weiss I actually respect,” she says, “send me her latest ‘then’ assignment, your session notes, and talk to me about our next move.”
“I don’t appreciate your fucking tone.”
“And I don’t appreciate wondering why the most meticulous man I know is two days late on reports and hasn’t mentioned a thing about missing footage.”
“Robin, if you don’t apologize for implying—”
She ends the call before I can finish my sentence, leaving me alone with her undeniable suspicions.
Shit…
25
SADIE
Day Fourteen
Day Nine
(I still can’t believe the warden agreed to be fair—and actually give me the full term.)
I’m sitting across from Ethan at our chessboard, watching him stare intently at the game.
He could’ve pushed me into a corner this morning, left me on the verge of a humbling loss, but he didn’t. Instead, he let me live a little while longer, and now he’s the one fighting for survival.
“I’d be open to a ‘draw’ if you say the word, Dr. Weiss.” I smile. “We could start a new game with a timer—force ourselves to finish it.”
“Why would I ever agree to a draw when you’re the one who’s about to lose?” He smirks. “I’m just debating how to make it as painless as possible for you.”
Gasping, I look back at the board, trying to see what he sees. And just as I realize exactly how I fucked up my bishop, the front door creaks open.
My heart stutters.
Has the warden changed his mind already? Did he send guards to take me back?
My heart pounds with uncertainty as an unfamiliar brunette and a man I’ve seen before—Dr. Sheldon—step inside. Expressionless, they’re both carrying duffel bags with bright orange “Corrections Approved” tags.
My private world with Ethan bursts into flames.
The man who kissed my neck in the bath, who whispered like we had forever, is gone. In his place: a stranger in a white coat who prefers being called “Dr. Weiss.”
“May I help you with something?” He glares at them. “No visitors are allowed in the cabin without my pre-approved permission.”