Chapter 4 Betrayal's Sting

# Chapter 4: Betrayal's Sting

The next three days became a blur of cheap motels and burner phones. I'd withdrawn the maximum amount from my checking account before they could freeze it and was carefully rationing the cash. Without my phone or laptop, I felt cut off from the world, vulnerable in ways I'd never experienced before.

On the fourth day, as I sat in a small coffee shop near Venice Beach, someone slid into the seat across from me. My heart nearly stopped until I realized it wasn't Jason or my mother.

"Professor Collins?" I blinked at my developmental psychology professor.

She smiled kindly. "Maya. You've missed class."

"I've been... dealing with some personal issues," I said cautiously.

"So I've heard." She placed her coffee cup down. "Your mother called the department. She's concerned about your mental health."

Of course she had. "Professor, it's not what she's telling people. They're—"

"Conducting an unauthorized psychological experiment on you?" she finished, her voice low. "Yes, I gathered that might be the case."

I stared at her. "You... believe me?"

"Linda Bennett and I have had our professional disagreements over the years," she said, stirring her coffee. "Her methods have always been... unorthodox. And I've had concerns about Dr. Reynolds' research ethics for some time."

Hope bloomed in my chest. "Then you can help me? Report them or something?"

She sighed. "It's complicated, Maya. Without evidence, it would be your word against three established professionals. And frankly, your recent behavior doesn't help your credibility."

My hope deflated. "So what am I supposed to do?"

"Come back to campus," she said. "Resume your studies. Don't let them see how deeply they've affected you."

"That's your advice? Pretend everything's normal?"

"For now, yes." She slid a business card across the table. "My private number. If you need to talk, call me. But Maya—be careful. Watch what you say and to whom."

After she left, I sat there for a long time, turning her card over in my fingers. Was she genuinely trying to help, or was this another trap? In my new reality, I couldn't be certain of anything.

Two days later, running low on funds and options, I reluctantly returned to campus. I avoided the psychology building, focusing instead on my other classes. I'd found a temporary room to rent from a graduate student who didn't ask questions, paying cash for the first month.

I was leaving the library late one evening when a familiar figure stepped out of the shadows.

"Maya."

Jason's voice still had the power to make my heart race, though now with fear rather than love. I turned to run, but he caught my arm.

"Please," he said, his grip firm but not painful. "Just talk to me."

"Let go," I hissed.

To my surprise, he did. "Five minutes. That's all I'm asking."

I should have walked away. Every instinct screamed at me to run. But there was something in his eyes—a vulnerability I hadn't seen since before everything fell apart.

"Five minutes," I agreed, crossing my arms protectively across my chest.

He led me to a bench under a jacaranda tree, its purple blossoms creating a canopy above us. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

"How are you?" he finally asked.

I laughed bitterly. "Seriously? That's what you want to know?"

"I've been worried about you."

"Worried I might ruin your precious experiment?" I snapped.

He winced. "I deserved that."

"You deserve a lot worse."

Jason ran a hand through his hair, a gesture so achingly familiar it made my chest hurt. "Your mother doesn't know I'm here."

That surprised me. "You're operating outside the parameters of the study?"

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "You sound like a researcher now."

"Don't," I warned. "Don't try to make this normal."

"Sorry." He looked down at his hands. "Maya, things got... complicated."

"Complicated how?"

He seemed to struggle with his words. "The experiment... it wasn't supposed to go this far. Dr. Reynolds and your mother, they kept moving the goalposts."

"What do you mean?"

"It started as a simple study on attachment styles. You were supposed to be observed, not manipulated. But then your mother became convinced you needed more intensive intervention, and Dr. Reynolds saw an opportunity for a groundbreaking paper..."

I shook my head. "And you just went along with it? Pretended to love me, made me fall for you, all for some academic paper?"

"It wasn't like that," he insisted, his eyes finding mine. "Not for me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I broke protocol." His voice dropped. "I wasn't supposed to develop real feelings for you. But I did."

The confession hung in the air between us. I wanted so badly to believe him, but how could I trust anything he said?

"That's convenient," I said coldly. "Let me guess—you want me to come back now? Return to the experiment like a good little subject?"

"No." He reached for my hand, but I pulled away. "I want to help you."

"Help me how?"

"I can get you information. Evidence of what they're doing."

I studied his face, searching for signs of deception. "Why would you betray them now?"

"Because what they're doing is wrong." His jaw tightened. "And because I can't keep hurting you."

"How do I know this isn't just another manipulation? Another 'controlled trigger event' to see how I'll react?"

"You don't," he admitted. "You have no reason to trust me. But I'm telling you the truth."

Before I could respond, my burner phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: *We know you're with Jason. Meeting him was a mistake. Come home now, Maya.*

I showed it to him, my hands shaking. "See? They're watching us right now."

Jason looked around, his expression darkening. "They must have followed me."

"I need to go," I said, standing quickly.

"Wait." He grabbed a pen from his backpack and scribbled something on a scrap of paper. "This is where I'm staying. Come tomorrow at noon if you want to know the truth."

I hesitated, then took the paper, shoving it in my pocket as I hurried away.

That night, I couldn't sleep, torn between suspicion and a desperate hope that Jason might actually be sincere. By morning, curiosity won out. I needed answers, even if it meant risking another trap.

The address led me to a small guesthouse behind a larger home in a quiet neighborhood. I knocked tentatively, and Jason opened the door almost immediately.

"You came," he said, relief evident in his voice. "Come in."

The space was sparsely furnished—just a bed, a desk covered with papers, and a small kitchenette. He offered me water, which I declined.

"Show me what you have," I said, getting straight to the point.

He handed me a folder. "It's not everything, but it's a start. Emails between your mother and Dr. Reynolds discussing the experiment."

I scanned the pages, my stomach turning as I read their clinical assessments of my "case," their plans for various "interventions" designed to test my emotional responses.

"They call it 'Project Looking Glass,'" Jason explained. "The idea is to create controlled emotional trauma in a therapeutic setting to reset maladaptive attachment patterns."

"They're deliberately traumatizing me as therapy?" I looked up, horrified. "That's barbaric."

"It started with noble intentions," he said. "But it's gone too far. Dr. Reynolds is more interested in publishing revolutionary findings than in your wellbeing."

"And my mother?" I asked, my voice small. "Why would she do this to me?"

Jason hesitated. "That's... complicated. She truly believes she's helping you. After your father died, she became obsessed with protecting you from emotional pain."

"By causing me pain?"

"By controlling it," he corrected. "In her mind, it's better for you to experience heartbreak in a controlled environment than risk it happening unpredictably in the real world."

I shook my head in disbelief. "That's insane."

"I know." He sat beside me on the edge of the bed. "I should have refused to participate from the beginning. I'm so sorry, Maya."

There was genuine remorse in his eyes, but I couldn't let myself be swayed so easily. "If you're really on my side, prove it. Tell me how to stop them."

"I've been thinking about that." He reached for his laptop. "If we can get these documents to the university ethics board—"

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. Jason froze, his eyes widening.

"Were you followed?" he whispered.

"No," I whispered back. "I was careful."

The knocking came again, more insistent this time. Then my mother's voice: "Jason, open the door. We know she's in there."

Jason quickly gathered the papers, shoving them into my hands. "Hide these," he hissed, pointing to the bathroom.

I hurried into the tiny bathroom, clutching the documents to my chest. Through the thin door, I could hear Jason reluctantly letting them in.

"Where is she?" My mother's voice was sharp.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jason replied coolly.

"Don't play games," Dr. Reynolds said. "Our surveillance picked her up entering this address twenty minutes ago."

Surveillance? They were tracking me even without my phone?

"This is private property," Jason said. "You can't just barge in here."

"We can when a vulnerable subject is at risk," my mother countered. "Maya! Come out now!"

I stayed silent, frantically searching for an escape route. The bathroom window was too small, and there was nowhere to hide the documents. In desperation, I snapped photos of as many pages as I could with my burner phone.

"Fine," I heard Jason say. "She was here earlier, but she left."

"You're lying," Dr. Reynolds said. "Search the place."

Footsteps approached the bathroom. I braced myself as the door swung open, revealing my mother's stern face.

"Maya," she sighed. "This needs to stop."

"What you're doing is illegal," I said, backing away. "I have proof now."

Her eyes flickered to the documents in my hands. "Those are confidential research materials. Hand them over."

"No."

She stepped closer. "Maya, you're not well. Let us help you."

"Help me?" I laughed bitterly. "You've been experimenting on me, manipulating my emotions, gaslighting me when I caught you—and you call that help?"

Dr. Reynolds appeared behind her. "Your mother has your best interests at heart, Maya. As do we all."

"Bullshit," I spat. "You're using me for your research, and she's letting you."

My mother's expression hardened. "That's enough. We're leaving. Now."

I looked past them to Jason, who stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Jason?"

"I'm sorry, Maya," he said, his voice flat. "This is for your own good."

As Dr. Reynolds moved toward me, I realized with sickening clarity—Jason had never been on my side. This entire meeting had been a setup, another manipulation to lure me out of hiding.

"You set me up," I whispered, staring at him in disbelief.

A cold smile spread across his face. "You never could resist trying to uncover the truth, could you? That's what makes you such a perfect subject." His voice dropped to a near whisper as he leaned closer. "You'll never escape this game, Maya. This is your 'cure.'"

In that moment, as his mask fell completely away, I realized the depth of his betrayal—and that I was truly on my own.