Chapter 3 - The Gaslight Games
The psychological warfare intensified. Julian was becoming erratic, a cornered animal lashing out at the walls of his own cage. He began to suspect everyone—his nurses, his assistants, even the janitorial staff.
"They're sabotaging me!" he screamed, overturning a tray of surgical instruments in the scrub room. He turned to me, his eyes wild. "You. You were in the office. Did you see who accessed the terminal?"
I looked him dead in the eye, my expression one of mild, confused concern. "Julian, you’ve been working twenty-hour shifts. Perhaps you’re experiencing early-onset burnout? Or maybe the guilt is finally catching up with you?"
It was a gaslight, and it was perfect. I was feeding his paranoia, pushing him toward a nervous breakdown that would make his eventual arrest appear as the culmination of a mental health crisis.
Meanwhile, I had established the safe house. It was a remote property, shielded from the reach of his digital surveillance. I spent my days acting the part of the devoted mother-in-law, bringing him coffee while I used the app on my phone to liquidate his final holdings in offshore accounts.
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Mia was the hardest part. I had to keep her hidden in plain sight. I told her we were preparing for a 'surprise'—a way to win. I couldn't tell her the truth of how much I was destroying; she was too terrified, too fragile. Every time he entered the room, she flinched, and every time she flinched, my resolve to destroy him grew more absolute.
I wasn't just protecting my daughter anymore. I was performing an exorcism. And by the time the board of directors arrived at the hospital for an emergency audit, I had ensured there was nothing left of Julian Vance but a hollow shell waiting to be crushed.
