Chapter 57

The express flight, secured in the dead of night through the rapid and efficient network of Miss Kai’s connections, had delivered her back to the city at dawn. Her heart was a cold, heavy stone in her chest, weighed down by the secrets she carried. She had rescheduled her critical evening meeting with Miss Kai, but first, she needed the Professor’s counsel. Yes, Adeline was back.

She found him in his private office, sitting in a worn leather armchair, watching the first weak light filter through the tall window. The atmosphere was one of tense, intellectual clarity.

Adeline laid out every detail: the identity of her patient, Niran Williams; her dissociative construction; and the trauma.
The Professor listened intently, his expression unreadable, his gaze fixed on the quiet street below. When Adeline finally fell silent, winded by the confession, the room absorbed her words into a deep silence.

He finally turned, a slow, contemplative movement. He didn’t smile, but a flicker of professional acknowledgment crossed his eyes.

“You were right on almost every count. It makes sense.” He paused, leaning forward. “But there is one question you forgot to ask about your patient.”

Adeline felt a sharp jolt of surprise. “What is it?”

“The essential one,” he replied. “What you described is textbook dissociation. A self-generated being created to operate as a shield against debilitating trauma. But for that defense mechanism to evolve into your patient’s dominant public identity, that suggests it was induced. It is a personality disorder that was deliberately nurtured. And both identities carry a fundamental flaw.”

Adeline froze. “But it’s still reversible.”

The Professor’s voice dropped, becoming conspiratorial. “It should be,” he said gently, “but after that, it will become irreversible.”

She blinked.

“You are intent on resurrecting the real Niran Williams. And though I am not a fan of unconventional ethics, I must advise you never to do it. The ideal solution is to restore the strength of the new Williams so that she destroys the original self once and for all.”

The sheer ruthlessness of the suggestion, destroying the victim’s true self, left Adeline stunned. Her gaze hardened with cold clarity. Why was the Professor, like Madame Roger, so eager to eliminate the original Niran?

A tense, deliberate silence hung between them before he spoke again. “What is the first step you take when dealing with a patient who has been abused?”

“I help them re-evaluate themselves, find their value, and move past the shame.”

“Come.” He rose and guided Adeline to a tall, antique mirror hanging between two bookshelves. “What do you see?”

“Myself.”

“Exactly. When a person is abused, they are consumed by shame. This shame manifests as a crushing lack of self-esteem, a distortion of the self. The more you help them find the right balance, the more that person regains self-esteem and manages to look at themselves in the mirror and see the being who went through so much with pride. They reclaim the reflection they avoided. That is the moment healing begins.”

“Mirror therapy,” Adeline murmured.

“Not entirely. But what I mean is that this is the core of Dr. Niran Williams. That self-worth, that ruthless, impenetrable mask is drawn from her reflection. It can only change when what she sees is not what she seeks. But that still would not bring back the old Williams. It is only her defense.”

Adeline stared at the mirror. “So, when she sees herself, she sees Dr. Niran Williams. What about the real Williams?”

The Professor stared at her, then moved to his desk, picked up a wooden stick, and returned. “Walk farther away and keep staring at the mirror.”

Adeline was confused, but she obeyed. As she kept her eyes on the reflection, the Professor struck the mirror with the stick. The glass shattered loudly, falling in fragments across the floor. It was risky, but the reaction was exactly what he expected. The sudden noise frightened Adeline so much that she fell to her knees, covering her ears and lowering her face in instinctive protection.

“The more the real Williams resurfaces, the more the mirror breaks when she stares at it, because she was not allowed to grow strong enough to stand on her own reflection. Sorry if I scared you,” the Professor said.

Adeline stood and regained her posture before returning to her chair, her mind racing. “But then, how could I bring back the original Niran?”

She was resolved. She would be influenced neither by Miss Rogers’ desire for control nor the Professor’s chilling pragmatism. She would see her mission through on her own terms.

The Professor looked directly at her, his eyes holding a final, definitive answer. “You cannot pull her from the present,” he whispered. “You must drag her from the past.”

“Confrontation?”

“Yes. Confront her and help her recall her past life. You can use images, videos, or a person who will directly show her what she looked like in her state of agony and shame.”

Confront her with her past. The words echoed.
Adeline’s fingers tightened around the leather folder in her bag. Inside, among Madame Roger’s documents, was a photo album from the school where Williams had suffered the worst abuse. She knew the name of the girl Williams loved, Esther Dara, and the names and photos of the abusers, circled in red in the forensic reports. She had the tools. But before the final, destructive resolution, she needed to confront the one who should have made these decisions years ago. Miss Kai Malee.

And tonight, she would.

Meanwhile, the hospital crisis was nearing its peak. The next day was the decisive day. An emergency meeting had been convened at first light. The team of specialists had exchanged the latest reports concerning the child’s vitals. The news was positive. At dawn, they would begin gradually bringing the child out of the artificial coma.

Williams, composed and efficient, concluded the meeting. Before leaving, she spoke with Mr. Richardson, instructing him to remain on site to oversee the patient’s recovery. Then she moved with clinical detachment. Makizal, Ultra, and Beta formed a silent, disciplined escort as she headed to the airfield for the next leg of her calculated journey.

After a couple of minutes driving, they finally arrived at the one final stop before she returned home. Williams remained seated in the deep leather of the executive vehicle, the tinted windows hiding her from the world. Ultra and Beta positioned themselves like shadows while Makizal approached the house and knocked.

A man opened the door, his face lined with stress, his eyes hollow from restless nights.

“Mr. Mayeurs,” Makizal said pleasantly.

“Who are you?” Mayeurs stammered, surprised and nervous.

“Someone would like to exchange a word with you.”

Mayeurs hesitated, his gaze darting around the street.

Makizal’s smile vanished. His voice dropped to a low, accusatory tone. “Are you a drug trafficker?”

“What? No!”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

The brief, suffocating tension was enough. Mayeurs followed Makizal to the large black vehicle, the air thick with unspoken threat, and slid onto the sumptuous leather seat.

He was shocked to see the CEO of Niran Kai Medical Centre sitting across from him.

“Madam…”

“Mr. Mayeurs,” Williams cut in, her voice flat. “How are you?”

“I… I am fine.”

“Good.” She looked out the window for a moment before continuing. “Not to waste time: Ms. Evelyn came to see you.”

“She spoke with my wife, not with me,” Mayeurs corrected immediately.

Williams turned back, her eyes pinning him. “Tell her to have an abortion. And I suggest that we, together, resume the procedure.”

“Absolutely not!” Mayeurs bristled.

“No?” Williams leaned slightly forward.

“We will not resume the procedure with your institute,” he said firmly. “Your facility has done us enough damage.”

“Then with another clinic?”

“Then that is no longer your concern. You need to speak with our lawyer.”

“And the abortion? Is that also a no?”

“And that is for my wife to decide.”

Williams remained silent for a moment, letting the pressure build. “Mr. Mayeurs, I studied your case closely. Your wife went to several hospitals for five years, believing she had a problem, until she came to Niran Kai, and we insisted the problem might be coming from you. During those five years, you never deigned to check if the issue originated with you. Five years she lost, searching for a child you clearly were not concerned about.”

“You…”

“Be quiet,” Williams ordered.

“Your wife wants a child, and she needs a man who acts like one. You are not pitying yourselves as a couple. You keep pitying yourself as a powerless man.”

The sentence hit like a surgical strike. Mayeurs froze, his eyes reddening with humiliation.

“Whether your pride is hurt or not, you are sterile, and there will never be a biological solution. Not even the Lord will save you, because He decided it at your birth.” She handed him a single sheet of paper. “It is only a matter of time before your wife has this child, with or without you.”

“What do you want?” Mayeurs whispered.

“Read the notes.” Williams gestured to the paper. “Before discovering your condition, your wife inquired several times about adoption. But after she found out about you, she began asking about divorce.”

Mayeurs had never known this. His eyes widened with the pain of realization.

“And I would not blame her. She is the only one making decisions after all. Mr. Mayeurs, our mistake is repairable. Yours is not. Have Evelyn abort the pregnancy and resume the procedure. This is a decision you can still make.”

He abruptly opened the door and stumbled out, but Ultra stepped forward to restrain him.

“Let him go,” Williams said.

“That is ours.” Ultra snatched the document back from his hand.

Mayeurs glanced at Williams one last time, then staggered away.

“Where are we going?” Makizal asked from the driver’s seat.

“Home,” Williams replied, already erasing the conversation from her mind.

Mr. Mayeurs burst into his quiet, organized house, his face distorted by unshed tears and rage. His wife was in the kitchen, preparing food, the scent of cooking oil and garlic masking the devastation he carried.

“Darling… is something wrong?” she asked, instantly sensing the shift.

He swallowed. “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“The day you found out about me… did you think about divorce?”

Her breath caught.

The silence that followed told him the truth more clearly than any words could.

Years of resentment.
Years of waiting.
Years of being the only one trying.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, confirming everything he feared. This was the truth that had always lived between them.

Would he succumb to Williams’s cold logic, or stand against her and risk consequences that could destroy everything?

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