Corin arranges the appointment under a fabricated referral, and I walk into Havenbrook Wellness Center posing as a client struggling with unspecified trauma, nerves buzzing beneath a carefully practiced calm.
The waiting room looks exactly like what it claims to be. Soft lighting, calming artwork, a receptionist who greets me with practiced warmth that gives nothing away.
"Mr. Arden? Dr. Feld will see you shortly."
I sit, scanning the space carefully without appearing to. Nothing about it suggests anything sinister, which somehow makes it worse. Whoever built this front understood exactly how to disguise exploitation as genuine care.
Dr. Feld turns out to be a composed woman in her fifties, gentle voice, careful eye contact, everything about her demeanor designed to earn trust quickly.
