Diego visits Valerie at work

Chase had suggested the visit casually, almost as if it were a generous offer. “Diego, you should see Valerie at work,” he said over the phone. “You’ll understand how capable she is now. How happy she’s become.”

Diego’s stomach twisted, suspicion and dread warring with curiosity.

When he arrived at Chase’s house, everything was pristine. Valerie was already in motion, moving through the rooms with deliberate care—dusting, arranging cushions, polishing silverware. Her posture was upright, fluid, graceful. She hummed softly in Spanish, oblivious to the outside world except for her tasks.

Chase greeted Diego warmly, clapping him on the shoulder. “Ah, Diego! So good of you to come. I hope you’ll see your mother thriving in her work. She’s taken to it remarkably.”

Diego’s eyes narrowed. Chase’s tone was casual, almost friendly, and his smile easy. The house itself reflected the same tidy perfection Valerie had cultivated—the floors gleaming, the linens crisp.

Valerie glanced up, her eyes bright, voice melodic. “¡Dieguito! Qué bueno verte.” She approached, hands clasped politely, and Diego noticed the soft blush on her cheeks, the warmth in her tone.

<Diego! How good to see you.>

Diego’s pulse quickened. She’s… happy. She’s smiling… with him.

Chase guided him on a tour. “Notice how careful she is? Every detail, every task done with pride. You see the joy she takes in her work?”

Diego swallowed hard, heart hammering. Every glance, every smile from Valerie, every gentle nod, seemed designed to reinforce that she was content—and completely hers now.

Chase leaned closer, whispering to Diego as Valerie fetched a polished tray of drinks: “See, she’s chosen this. All on her own. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Diego’s stomach lurched. He wanted to scream that something was wrong, that this wasn’t real—but the scene in front of him was flawless. His mother was happy, polite, admirable, and Chase… benevolent, almost paternal.

The worst part was that Valerie treated Diego with gentle warmth too. “Dieguito,” she said softly, “you always help me keep things tidy, yes? Thank you for being considerate.” Her tone was affectionate, motherly—but not in a way that connected with the Dr. Valeria Diego remembered. It was filtered, obedient, molded.

Diego realized, with a sinking clarity, that even here—under his own eyes—Chase could gaslight him. Valerie could be right in front of him, smiling and speaking to him in Spanish, but the person he knew was gone.

And Chase’s final words as they left the room echoed in his mind: “You see? There’s nothing to fear. She’s happy. She’s safe. Isn’t that what matters most?”