Hypnosis Unlocked His Seven-Year Betrayal

Seven years after I left Nathan Vale, I became the most authoritative hypnosis specialist in the country.

Today, I received a confidential consultation request from another province.

When I pushed open the door to the consultation room, a storm had just begun outside.

In the dim therapy chair sat a man tormented by insomnia.

It was Nathan.

He slowly opened his eyes and broke the awkward silence with a dry voice.

Summer have you been well all these years?

Holding his medical file, I smiled with polite distance.

Fortunately, yes. Everything has been fine.

He watched me calmly close the file, pain flashing through his eyes.

Youre different now. Before, whenever it thundered or rained, you never dared to be alone.

I smiled and didnt answer.

Actually, nothing had changed.

I had only stopped leaving any part of my emotions for him.

Putting away my pocket watch, I slowly pushed the medical file back in front of him.

Mr. Vale, I cant perform hypnosis on you.

His fingers, resting on the armrest, trembled violently.

It wasnt emotional shaking. It was involuntary tremor caused by long-term neurasthenia.

His hand knocked over the glass on the table.

The glass shattered against the tile, the sound swallowed by a clap of thunder.

Nathan stumbled up from the therapy chair.

His hand reached across my desk, fingers spread, trying to cover my ears.

Muscle memory from seven years ago.

I didnt even lift my eyelids. I pressed the intercom.

Jade, come clean this up.

His hand froze in midair.

Thunder rumbled outside. I continued flipping through the next clients file.

He stared at my calm profile as I turned the pages. Slowly, the hand hovering in the air withdrew and clenched into a fist, his knuckles taut.

My assistant pushed the door open and bent to pick up the broken glass.

Nathan still stood there.

Summer, I can pay double.

It isnt about money.

Triple.

His voice was dry and hoarse, soaked in exhaustion.

I really havent slept through a full night in almost three months.

I didnt respond. I opened the drawer.

My fingertips touched a metal casing.

I took it out and placed it on the desk.

An old pocket watch.

The moment Nathans gaze landed on it, his breathing stopped.

His throat moved, but he said nothing.

I saw an unreal flicker of light ignite in his eyes.

He thought I kept the watch because I was sentimental.

I picked it up, turned it half a circle in my palm, and snapped it down on the desk.

If Mr. Vale really wants sleep, the psychiatric department is down the hall to the left. Ask for heavy sedatives.

I tore off a sticky note, wrote down a few numbers, and pushed it toward him.

Refusal consultation fee. Finance will send you the invoice later.

He didnt look at the note.

He stared at my fingers, at the pocket watch I had slapped casually onto the desk. His mouth twisted into an expression uglier than crying.

That watch is broken.

His voice trembled hoarsely.

Ill buy you a new one.

I didnt answer.

I simply turned the watch over and opened the back cover with my thumb.

Inside the cover was a place where words had once been engraved.

Three words.

Nathan loves Summer.

Now those words were unrecognizable.

The metal had been scraped again and again by something sharp, leaving grooves of different depths, like wounds that had failed to heal.

All color drained from Nathans face.

I knew what he had remembered.

I stared into his bloodshot eyes.

It wasnt just the watch that shattered.

My voice was very soft.

It was someones nerves too. You havent forgotten that, have you, Nathan?

It was as if someone had shoved him hard from behind.

He staggered backward and hit the therapy chair.

He didnt even take an umbrella. He yanked open the door and stumbled into the rain at the end of the corridor.

I picked up the pocket watch again and pressed my thumb against the scratches.

Seven years.

Memory was like a rusted floodgate. In that moment, it loosened with a crash.

I heard Nathans voice again.

Not the hollow, nearly begging voice from moments ago.

The voice from seven years earlier.

Warm, carrying the scent of mint, pressed against the top of my head.

Summer, dont be afraid.

I will always be your safest fortress.

Seven years ago, I was twenty-two.

It was the third year Nathan had kept me by his side.

Thunderstorms triggered my illness.

It wasnt ordinary fear of thunder. It was true post-traumatic stress.

When I was little, my stepfather had locked me in a leaking basement for three days. Ever since, whenever lightning flashed, my limbs would spasm uncontrollably.

That day, thunder struck from four in the afternoon until dawn.

I curled inside the master bedroom closet, wrapped in his coat.

The sound of the door lock turning came at 11:03 p.m.

Nathan rushed into the bedroom, soaked from head to toe, ink stains still on the cuff of his suit.

He opened the closet door and saw me shaking in the corner. Without a word, he bent and scooped me up, holding me in his arms.

His chest trembled. His body heat came through his drenched shirt.

Summer.

Look at this.

He took out a custom pocket watch from his pocket, opened the back, and held it by my ear.

The second hand ticked softly and steadily, one beat after another, like another calm heart.

Listen to this. Not the storm outside.

His chin rested against the top of my head, his voice lowered.

I clutched his shirt and refused to let go, nails digging into the fabric.

Never leave me.

He placed the watch into my palm and wrapped his hand around mine.

Even if Im crushed to dust.

Only those words.

I believed him.

I used those words as a foundation and built every definition of safety upon them.

But another thunderstorm came three months later.

I held that pocket watch and sat on the living room sofa all night.

The second hand ticked thirty-two thousand times.

His phone had been turned off since eight in the evening.

At 5:40 a.m., the door lock finally turned.

He pushed the door open, collar loose, carrying a strong sandalwood scent that did not belong to him.

It was the perfume used by Bianca Vale, his bosss daughter.

I had smelled it at the company banquet. I could identify it from three tables away.

He saw me sitting on the sofa and paused.

Why arent you asleep?

His eyes swept over the watch in my hand, then quickly moved away.

The company system had issues. I spent the whole night in the server room.

He tugged at his tie and walked toward the bathroom.

The perfume rubbed off by accident. There were lots of people around.

I didnt move.

I placed the watch on my knees and pointed at the storm still churning beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Do you know how I got through last night?

He stopped, but he didnt turn around.

In the past, at moments like this, he would turn back, pick me up, and cover all my panic with his warmth.

This time, he stood where he was and tugged at his tie. His voice carried something it never had before.

Summer, youre not a child anymore. You need to learn to handle these things yourself. Stop being so immature.

His phone screen lit up on the entryway cabinet.

I saw the message preview.

The sender was saved as a white gardenia emoji.

Thank you for staying with me last night. I felt so safe.

It was as if an invisible hand had seized my heart.

You lied to me.

I heard my own voice shaking.

Bianca, right? Are you going to abandon me and marry her?

Nathans expression changed.

Not guilt.

Not panic.

It was a kind of irritated impatience I had never seen on his face before.

He came back, pressed one hand onto my shoulder, and pushed me against the sofa back.

His strength wasnt great.

But the gesture itself chilled my spine.

Youve been too tense lately.

He leaned down, his gaze like he was examining a malfunctioning machine.

I think youre hallucinating.

He went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water.

When he returned, white powder was still visible at the bottom of the glass, swirling in tiny currents.

He held the water to my lips.

Drink it. Sleep.

His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth. The touch was light. So was his voice.

When you wake up, well get married.

I didnt drink it.

I knocked the glass away with the back of my hand.

Water spilled across the carpet. The white powder dissolved into a cloudy stain.

Nathan straightened and stared at the wet patch for five seconds.

Then he took out his phone and dialed a number.

Seal all exits.

Within ten minutes, the villas security system switched modes.

Door locks, window locks, garage gates, every path leading outside locked at once.

He took away my phone.

The reason was that I needed rest.

For half a month, I did not see complete daylight once.

The bedroom curtains were nailed shut. The remote was removed.

But early autumn thunderstorms came like clockwork, every other day.

Every time lightning pierced through the gap in the curtains, I shook uncontrollably. My nails nearly dug through my palms.

During the day, Nathan was gone.

When he came home at night, he sometimes brought me a slice of my favorite cheesecake.

He sat by the bed, fed me with a fork, and wiped cream from the corner of my mouth with his thumb.

His movements were exactly the same as before.

As if nothing had happened.

As if I could leave at any time.

On the eleventh day, the housekeeper forgot to lock the kitchen door after bringing dinner.

The living room TV was on.

I saw the screen.

A press conference.

Nathan stood onstage. Bianca held his arm, wearing a crisply tailored white suit.

Reporters shoved microphones almost into his face.

Nathan turned slightly, looked at the woman beside him, then faced the camera.

In this life, I will only marry the woman standing beside me.

Flashbulbs exploded across the screen.

I crouched in front of the TV cabinet. My knees hit the tile, but I felt no pain.

That night, when he opened the bedroom door, I held kitchen scissors in my hand.

The tip pressed against my carotid artery.

Let me go.

He stood at the door, eyes falling on the scissors.

There was no fear.

He approached with slow steps, bit by bit.

Let you go?

He stopped in front of the bed and tilted his head.

So you can go tell everyone?

He reached out and grasped the blade with his bare hand.

Metal sank into flesh. Blood slid down the blade and fell onto the sheets.

His expression did not change.

Summer, alive, you are mine.

He pulled the scissors from my hand inch by inch.

Dead, you can only die in this house.

He threw the scissors into the hallway.

The sound of metal striking the floor echoed through the empty villa for a long time.

Three days later, Nathan brought someone back.

The man carried a black briefcase. Beneath his white coat, he wore an ordinary gray sweater.

Nathan had the housekeeper help me sit up. Soft restraints were already tied around my wrists.

He stood at the foot of the bed and looked down at me.

Summer, youre in too much pain now.

He reached out and brushed aside the hair on my forehead.

I found the best doctor for you.

I shook my head desperately. Tears slid from the corners of my eyes into my ears.

I wont fight anymore. Ill listen to whatever you say. Please dont do this.

Nathans hand stopped on my forehead.

He closed his eyes.

For that one second, I thought he would stop. I thought he was still the man who once canceled million-dollar negotiations for me.

Then he opened his eyes, turned around, and said something to the man in English.

Erase the memories that hurt her. Rewrite love into obedience.

The man opened his briefcase and took out a syringe and a palm-sized machine.

Nathan walked toward the door.

I could no longer scream complete words. Only broken sounds left my throat.

The door closed.

As the last strip of light was cut off, the needle pierced the vein on the back of my hand.

After the drug took effect, my consciousness sank like drowning.

My body stopped struggling.

But I was still awake.

The man thought the sedative had pushed me into deep hypnosis.

He began guiding me with a pendulum and words, invading my subconscious sentence by sentence.

Forget betrayal.

Forget waiting through that thunderstorm.

He is safe. Obey him, and you wont hurt anymore.

Every instruction reached my mind like ten thousand needles piercing my skull.

The brainwave interference device was attached to both sides of my temples. Whenever my subconscious tried to seize a memory, electric current poured in from behind my ears and burned along my nerves.

I tried to hold on to the sound of the pocket watchs second hand.

To the image of Nathan crouching in front of the closet and catching me.

To the words crushed to dust.

Every time I tried, the electric shock came.

It was as if someone were using a branding iron to burn away the words inside my brain, one stroke at a time.

I felt my fingers move.

Under the restraint, my right middle finger kept curling inward.

Hidden beneath my nail was a thin piece of metal.

Before I was tied to the bed, I had bitten off a clasp from the pocket watch chain, held it between my gum and cheek, and moved it into my hand.

I began to scrape.

While the doctor adjusted the instrument settings, I used that metal piece to scratch the back cover of the pocket watch again and again.

Nathan loves Summer.

I cut over those three words repeatedly.

My finger tore open. Blood mixed with metal dust. My fingertip lost all feeling.

But physical pain became an anchor.

It pinned me to the edge of clarity and kept that machine from pushing me all the way down.

The procedure lasted four hours.

When it ended, I could see nothing clearly. All I heard was the hum of the machine shutting off.

The door opened.

Nathan walked to the bed and bent over to look at me.

I knew I had to act.

I emptied my gaze, stopped my eyes from focusing, and relaxed every facial muscle.

His hand covered the top of my head.

Summer, youre so good now.

There was satisfaction in his voice.

His fingertips brushed over my cheekbone, as if admiring a newly acquired collectible.

A deep chill crawled up my spine.

But I endured it.

The brainwave intervention severed part of my short-term memory. For nearly half a year, my recollections were fractured and displaced.

But the core remained.

My nerves had been burned raw. Pain itself became the container of memory.

With my damaged consciousness, I escaped that villa through the kitchen exhaust duct at dawn on the twenty-first day while the night housekeeper dozed off.

That was seven years ago.

I closed the back cover of the pocket watch. The metal clasp gave a soft click.

The door to the consultation room was suddenly shoved open.

Nathan had come back.

He was soaked through, hair plastered to his forehead.

He knelt in front of my desk, knees hitting the tiles with a dull thud.

I was a bastard back then.

He held his head, his vocal cords shaking badly.

I thought if your memories were erased, you wouldnt suffer anymore. I thought it was for your own good.

I looked at him.

This man who had once said at a press conference that he would marry only one woman now looked like a rotten, rain-soaked rag.

I smiled.

Very lightly. Without sound.

He froze and lifted his face.

I leaned down, meeting his gaze at eye level.

Mr. Vale, actually, that doctor of yours wasnt very skilled.

His lips moved.

Try imagining what it felt like to feel your brain nerves being burned one by one by electric current, while having to pretend to stare blankly as you touched my head and said I was good.

I paused, my voice steady.

In business terms, I believe youd call that worse than death.

Nathans pupils expanded to the limit in an instant.

He opened his mouth but made no sound. Only broken gasps squeezed from his chest.

His nails dug into the seams between the floor tiles, shaking terribly.

I straightened, picked up the pocket watch from the desk, and gently swung it in midair.

The second hand no longer moved.

Since you like hypnosis so much.

I released my fingers and let the watch hang.

Then Ill let you taste what it means to never wake up.