👉 Previous Decision: You chose Option B – Memorize the security keycard combination to break into the Level-B Archive during your next shift.
The numbers burned in Maya’s mind. 3-8-2-1-0. A simple sequence, memorized through countless glances at Julian’s keycard. During her next shift, the 1:00 PM “routine maintenance” window provided a brief, unmonitored opportunity.
The Level-B Archive door hissed open. The air inside was cool, dusty, smelling of old paper and ozone. Rows of metallic shelves stretched into the dimness, filled with files labeled by cryptic codes.
She moved with purpose, Julian’s internal evaluation folder her target. It was tucked away in a locked cabinet, but the key was where she expected: taped under the top drawer.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it. Inside, nestled among performance reviews and project proposals, were drafts of medical reports. Her name, Maya Lin, was prominently displayed.
The words blurred at first, then coalesced into a horrifying clarity: “patient exhibiting severe early-onset psychosis,” “dissociative tendencies impacting memory and judgment,” “recommending long-term cognitive evaluation.” Julian wasn’t just hiding what he was doing; he was building a formal legal framework to dismiss her, to invalidate anything she might say. He was gaslighting her, not just to her face, but in her official medical records.
➡️ Read CHAPTER 10 to continue the story.
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