He puts his plan into motion

“You’re too controlled. Too proud. You want to handle this your way. Not go crying to mommy and daddy.”

Valeria opened her mouth to retort but found her tongue catching on the inside of her cheek. He wasn’t wrong, and the little bastard knew it.

“You’re a doctor, right?” he said, rising slowly from the couch. “Used to people listening to you. Used to being the one in control. People open up to you all the time, don’t they?”

Her jaw tensed. “I didn’t come here to get psychoanalyzed by a punk with daddy’s money and a superiority complex.”

He chuckled, walking toward the coffee bar in the corner. “No, you came here expecting a boy to grovel at your feet. And now that I haven’t, you’re... rattled.”

Valeria stiffened.

He’s baiting you. Don’t engage. Maintain authority. Don’t let him see it.

“Want something to drink?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder. “Water? Coffee?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He poured himself a glass of water anyway, then returned to the couch, but didn’t sit this time. Instead, he stood beside it.

“I’ve been reading up on things lately,” he said, sipping calmly. “About the mind. How people work. Did you know the brain doesn’t know the difference between imagination and reality? Not really. That’s why dreams feel so real. That’s why, when someone describes something vividly enough, your heart races, your breath slows, your muscles loosen…”

“I’m not here for your TED Talk,” Valeria snapped.

But even as she said it, she noticed something — her pulse had slowed, hadn’t it? Her anger was still there, but it was starting to feel… muted. Controlled. Like it was buried beneath the surface, muffled by something she couldn’t quite place.

“It’s funny,” Chase continued, his voice now softened to a slow, lulling cadence. “The more someone tries to hold onto control, the easier it is to help them relax. It’s like their mind is straining to stay tight, but all it takes is a little guidance... and eventually, it gives up. Relaxes. Opens.”

She scoffed, folding her arms tighter across her chest.

But her stance had changed. She wasn’t advancing anymore.

And she hadn’t noticed she’d stopped clenching her fists.

“Are you feeling tense anywhere?” he asked offhandedly. “Shoulders maybe? Neck?”

“No,” she said quickly.

But the moment he mentioned it; she became aware of it. The weight in her shoulders. The tightness behind her eyes. Like he’d turned her attention inward, making her feel her body more than she had all morning.

He smiled as if reading her.

“You’ve had a stressful past few days, haven’t you?” His tone was gentle, almost kind. “With Diego. With your job. Coming here expecting a fight… it’s exhausting.”

“Stop talking like you know me,” she bit out, but it was weaker than before. She could feel the smallest tremor of unease creeping into her belly — and it wasn’t fear. It was something less defined. Like static in her mind.

“Of course I don’t know you,” Chase said, sitting now, patting the couch cushion beside him. “That’s what makes this easier. You can relax here, Dr Rivera. Just… let go. You’ve been strong for long enough.”

She didn’t move. But her shoulders slumped a fraction of an inch.

“I’m not like your patients,” Chase went on, his voice a steady murmur now. “I’m not going to judge you. I just want to talk. It’s just a conversation. You don’t have to prove anything to me. Just listen. That’s all.”

Her eyes flicked to the door. A second too long.

He noticed.

“You know,” he said, casually watching her face, “you don’t have to stand. You can sit, relax those feet. Let your back feel the couch behind you. Just for a second.”

She was tired.

Her body moved before she could rationalize why.

She sat.

And as she did, her breath came out in a slow, long exhale — almost like a sigh.

Chase leaned slightly forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“That’s better,” he said softly. “Now… just take a deep breath. In through your nose…”

She didn’t realize she obeyed until she’d already done it.

Her nostrils flared gently. Then came the exhale.

Chase smiled.

“Good,” he whispered.

Chase

She was almost there.

Her pupils had softened, unfocused now. Her breathing was slower than it had been minutes ago, shoulders relaxed, hands limp in her lap. She sat on the couch beside him, her back straight yet strangely pliant — like a statue half-melted in the sun. Valeria’s gaze was locked somewhere past him, staring at nothing, clinging to the cadence of his voice like it was the only thing tethering her to reality.

Chase leaned in closer.

“Now, Dr. Valeria…” he whispered, his voice low and smooth. “You’re in a safe place. You feel good here. You trust my voice. When I speak… it feels right to listen.”

Her lips parted slightly.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his eyes flicking over her slackening expression. “You’ve spent your whole life helping people. Being strong. Being good. But right now… you don’t need to be any of that. Right now… all you need to do is listen. Let your mind take a break.”

Valeria didn’t move. But a tremor in her fingers stilled.

She’s under, Chase thought, pulse quickening. Not like mom. But she’s under.

He could feel it. The mental stillness. The pause behind her expression. She wasn’t resisting his words — not outwardly, not consciously.

So, he pushed further.

“You’ve been angry with me,” he said, voice still gentle, testing the waters. “You came here thinking I needed to be punished. That I hurt Diego. But you don’t feel that way anymore. You realize now… that I was just misunderstood.”

A flicker in her brow.

Chase stilled.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“No need to resist,” he said, leaning closer, soothingly. “Just… feel what I’m saying. Feel how it could be true. That maybe I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. That maybe… Diego exaggerated.”

Another flicker. Slight twitch in her jaw. Subtle tension returning to her shoulders.

Damn.

Even in trance, she wasn’t letting go of her core beliefs. She wasn’t dumb, or fragile like his mother. Valeria was composed, stubborn, principled to the bone. Chase could feel it like steel bars behind her eyes — a fortress around her self-image, forged over years of being the competent one, the protector.

Changing her won’t be fast. Not like mom. I’ll need time. Gentle nudges… not shoves.

Fine.

He relaxed back into the couch, adjusting his tone.

“You don’t have to change all your beliefs right now,” he said softly. “You’re strong. And strength means being open to new thoughts — even if they take time.”

Pause.

“But one thought feels right to you. One thought makes sense right now. Let it settle in your mind, feel how easy it is to believe…”

He leaned close, his breath brushing the shell of her ear.

“You no longer need me to apologize. Not today. You’re content with how I spoke to you. It wasn’t disrespect… it was passion. You admire passion. You understand that now.”

Her lips trembled — and then, slowly, parted again in a sigh.

Chase smiled.

“That’s good… very good.”

He let the silence linger a moment, before pushing one final seed into her pliant, quiet mind.

“In fact,” he whispered, “you’ve realized something else. That I have potential. That if guided properly… I could become someone Diego could look up to. And because you love your son so much… you want to help me grow. So, every day, you’ll come back here… to guide me. One-on-one. No one else. Just you and me. Because this is important to both of us.”

Her shoulders slumped deeper. The resistance that had flickered earlier was gone for now — replaced by a serene acceptance. Not surrender. Not transformation.

But permission.

Enough.

Chase rose, letting his voice change — ever so slightly.

“And now, Valeria, I’m going to count to three. When I reach three, you’ll wake up. You’ll feel calm. Peaceful. And you’ll remember that I was polite. That we had a surprisingly productive conversation. You’ll feel drawn to help me. You won’t question it. It feels right.”

He crouched down in front of her, voice low.

“One… feeling that calm fill your chest. Two… stretching through your arms, your legs, your spine…”

He grinned.

“Three.”

Valeria blinked.

The light returned to her eyes slowly — not with a startle, but like someone waking from a nap she didn’t realize she’d needed. She looked around, briefly disoriented, and then at Chase.

“...Well,” she said softly, clearing her throat. “That was… unexpectedly civil.”

Chase kept his expression neutral.

“I told you”, he said. “I just wanted to talk.”

She studied him for a beat too long, then stood up.

“I’ll… be back tomorrow,” she said, almost like it had occurred to her on the spot. “You clearly need guidance. And… perhaps it would help both of you boys.”

Chase inclined his head solemnly, hiding the grin clawing at the corners of his lips.

She was halfway to the door before she paused, confused, glancing back at him.

“Tell your parents I stopped by,” she added, as if she needed to justify her presence to herself. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

Chase waited until the door clicked shut.

Then he let out a slow breath, heart pounding in his chest.

She’s going to take time, he thought, already strategizing. But she’s in. She’s coming back. Alone. Again.

He stepped toward the window, watching her pull out of the long circular driveway.

“And I’m ‘grounded’ according to her,” he murmured to himself with a wicked smile, “so I’ve got all week to fix her.”

The game had begun.