Page 76 of The Tower

I swallow, my eyes brimming once again. I want to tell him that I don’t know how, but his phone chimes, and he checks the screen.

“Dr. Chen,” he says, then starts toward the door.

I follow, my mind leaping to the one thing I’m sure I want. Freedom. Autonomy. However you want to say it.

I’ve been owned by my father long enough. It’s time for my life to be mine. All of it. All the time.

I perch on the edge of the sofa, twisting my fingers together as I watch dust motes dance in the air and try not to beg Dr. Chen to hurry up with her files. She’s taking her time laying them out on the coffee table, and I’m about to drop to my knees and beg her to just please, please get on with it.

Grimm stands among the dancing motes, his shape dark against the brightness of the windows as he paces. I want him beside me, but at the same time, his constant motion is keeping me grounded, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away.

“Well, all right then,” Dr. Chen finally says, aiming a soft smile at me. “Let’s talk about the results.”

In five long strides, Grimm is at my side, one hand enclosing mine, the other firm against my back. I glance up at him with a nod.

“Tell us,” he says.

She opens a folder and hands me a paper covered with chemical formulas that might as well be written in Klingon. I hand it to Grimm but can immediately tell that he doesn’t speak Chemistry either.

Dr. Chen almost smiles. “In plain English, we’ve confirmed that your father’s been using a tailored pharmaceutical cocktail to manipulate your memories and, shall we say, your obedience.”

I’m not surprised, but that doesn’t stop the blood from rushing out of my head as the room tilts. I squeeze Grimm’s hand as I take two deep breaths. When I’m pretty sure I’m not going to teeter off the side of the couch, I look at Dr. Chen again, then speak through bone-dry lips. “He was using me as a lab rat?”

“In essence, yes. I’m so sorry, Ms. Reed,” she adds, her voice gentle, but unflinching.

Manipulate how?” Grimm asks.

“A two-pronged approach. One compound actively suppresses real memories. The second heightens suggestibility so those memories can be replaced. And the cocktail did include compounds to help you cope with your phobias, though there’s also evidence of compounds that would exacerbate them.”

I nod stiffly, fury cutting through me as I think about the way he manipulated me, as if I were nothing more than a doll for him to stick pins in. Scared when he needed me to be. Able to cope only when it suited his agenda. My skin crawls from nothing more than the reality that Victor Reed and I share blood.

“That’s why I remember my mother’s death wrong. He stole the real memory and replaced it.”

She nods. “Again, I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

I swallow, then squeeze Grimm’s hand so hard I’m probably crunching bone. “What other memories did he take or change?”

She shakes her head, a frown tugging at her thin lips. “I’m sorry. There’s no way to know. Perhaps only this one.”

“Or many more,” I say, my words tasting bitter on my tongue. “Because he was a sadistic bastard, and I was his toy.”

Dr. Chen glances at the floor before looking up and meeting my eyes straight on. “Perhaps,” she says, as Grimm pulls me closer to him. “I suppose we’ll only know when and if memories return.”

I draw in a breath, forcing myself back to the moment. “What else?”

I can see how hard she’s working to keep control, and that evidence of compassion almost breaks me. I lean in even closer to Grimm as she says, “There was also evidence of a sedative compound that seems to have been used both in conjunction with the memory manipulation and as a tool to make you more malleable.”

“Malleable,” I say, as flashes of half-forgotten moments bubble up. The way I would become drowsy if I refused my meds. Then agreeable, because all I wanted was to make Father happy.

“He used to give me a fruit punch when I refused to take my meds,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “I’d refuse, and soon after, I’d get the punch. I hardly ever got sweets, so I always thought of it as a treat, and …” I trail off, trying to grab the tail-end of a memory. “They’d hold the punch out and ask me again. ‘Come on, Sasha. Be a good girl and take your medicine, and you can have the rest.’ And I would. I’d swallow the pills with what was left of that punch.”

I close my eyes. “They used things I loved to manipulate me. Kept them away, then held them out to me like a carrot.”

“I’ve got you,” Grimm whispers as his arm tightens around me. I sag into him, soaking up the comfort he’s offering. And—for right now at least—hoping he never lets me go.

“What else?” he asks Dr. Chen.

“The good news is, we now have conclusive proof of illegal drug administration. The compound’s structure is unique enough that there’s no plausible deniability—it could only have come from Reed Pharmaceuticals’ labs. Plus, the team you put together to infiltrate the Reed operation was able to get documentation. They were calling it Project Recall. And you were right,” she says, her attention on Grimm. “They already have orders for the product from some well-known players in the underworld.”