The morning after Dr. Vane’s first treatment, Emily felt... awake.
It was a sensation she hadn't realized she had lost. The fog that had shrouded her mind for days had lifted, replaced by a clarity that felt sharp and brittle, like glass. She sat up in bed, the sheets pooling around her waist.
Ethan was gone. He had slept in the study again.
Emily pushed the hurt down. He is protecting me, she told herself, repeating Dr. Vane’s words like a mantra. My body is rejecting the magic. He is just giving me space to heal.
She reached for the vial on the nightstand—the dopamine regulator. She took a sip. The lingering static at the base of her skull vanished instantly.
"I can do this," she whispered.
She got dressed. Not in a soft, convalescent robe, but in a tailored black suit. She pulled
