Page 77 of The Tower

Her words are flat. Even. Like she’s discussing the weather. But I can hear the tinge of emotion underneath as she continues to speak, and I realize that she has to keep it flat. Because otherwise, she’ll explode from the horror of it all.

I know exactly how she feels.

“The team’s recruited a whistleblower from inside Reed’s company,” Dr. Chen continues. “She’s agreed to testify at the hearing to explain how the memory manipulation works and the plan to monetize it. I spoke with the attorneys, and they assured me that even without her, we’re in an excellent position, but her testimony should let us steamroll right over anything they might raise.”

Liam asks the question I’m too afraid to voice. “Will Sasha experience long-term damage?”

“No,” she says, losing that flat tone and offering me a genuine smile. “And I anticipate that at least some of your memories will return.”

“My mother?”

“You were very young when she died,” Dr. Chen says gently. “So the memories may be spotty. Unclear. Don’t expect too much.”

“I won’t. I just—I just want the memories he stole.”

She nods. “I hope you get them.”

I close my eyes, imagining forgotten memories of my mother surfacing like shipwrecks from deep water.

I want all of them, even the dark ones.

I draw a breath and squeeze Grimm’s hand tighter as fear and longing twist together in my chest.

When I look up, Grimm’s watching me, and the concern in those remarkable eyes is undeniable. “Victor can’t hide from this.”

He’s right.

Soon, I think, as hope engulfs me, warm and soothing. The day’s finally coming when I’ll see justice for my mother, my father will pay for what he’s done, and Project Recall will be dead in the water, unable to hurt anyone else.

After Dr. Chen leaves, Grimm and I settle in at the kitchen table and work on putting together a timeline of my medication history. It doesn’t take long to see a pattern— every time I showed signs of independence or resistance, my prescription was adjusted.

“This is going to destroy him,” I say. “Not just legally, but publicly.”

“That’s the point.” The edge in Grimm’s voice could cut glass. “He doesn’t deserve mercy.”

“No. He doesn’t.” I stand, a little shaky, and he’s immediately at my side, pulling me close. Keeping me steady.

“You should take the meds,” he says, referring to the capsules Dr. Chen left for me.

“Ironically, the last few days of withdrawal may be the hardest,” she’d said. “Headaches, shakiness. Possibly chills. It’s as if the drugs are fighting to stay in your system.”

I’d kept the bottle, but I have no intention of opening it.

“There’s no reason not to,” he says. “You don’t have anything to prove.”

“Don’t I?”

“No.” He uses a finger to tilt my chin up so I have no choice but to look at him. “Accepting help when you need it isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom.”

“Is that what you do? Accept help when you need it?”

A shadow crosses his face. “No. But I’m hardly a stellar role model.”

I grin, surprised by his honesty. “Careful, or I might start thinking you’re human after all.”

“Well, we can’t have that.”

The moment stretches between us, the silence both edgy and full of possibility.