Chapter 207 Hypnosis

    From behind the iron doors lining the corridor, madughter and sudden screams echoed through the halls. But the moment the patients caught a glimpse of Sloane through the small windows in their cell doors, the chaos fell intoplete silence -thick, heavy, suffocating silence.

    “She… she’s back…” one patient whimpered, curled up in the corner, eyes wide with fear.

    “The devil… the devil came back…” Another clutched his head and rocked back and forth, whispering in a shrill, broken voice like he was trying to shut out a nightmare only he could see.

    Sloane didn’t even flinch. She walked on, unfazed, like she’d seen this all a thousand times before. Her eyes stayed fixed straight ahead, her steps steady and unshaken.

    The director wiped the sweat from his forehead and spoke cautiously. “Ms. Rivers, Mr. Boone’s… he’s not in a stable state right now. Are you sure you want to see him?”

    Sloane shot him a cold nce. “What do you think? You think I came all the way here in the middle of the night for fun?”

    The director shook his head quickly, his voice flustered. “N–No, of course not. I just… I’m worried he might hurt you.”

    She let out a dryugh. “That’s not your concern. Just take me to him.”

    The director didn’t dare speak again. He picked up the pace, leading her down the dim corridor until they reached the room where Boone was being held.

    The door swung open, and a wave of musty, sour air hit her in the face. Boone was huddled in the corner, looking like hell. His hair was a knotted mess, his clothes were filthy and hanging off him in rags, and his eyes were nk–staring at nothing like he wasn’t even there.

    He yanked something out of his hair and shoved it into his mouth, mumbling to

    himself in a low, garbled voice that didn’t make any sense.

    Sloane gave the director a nod. He fumbled with his keys and unlocked the iron door.

    She pushed open the iron door and stepped inside. Her eyes were cold and sharp as she crouched beside Boone. Reaching out, she grabbed his chin and forced his head up.

    “Boone, do you remember me?” Her voice was quiet, like something dead whispering from the shadows.

    Boone’s gaze was unfocused. He kept mumbling, “No… don’te near me… devil… you’re all devils…”

    Sloane’s eyes darkened. She let go of his face and stood up, her voice tinged with mockery. “So he really has lost his mind.”

    He was the one who had suggested locking her in this ce all those years ago. So she was simply returning the favor. But honestly? He didn’tst long. In barely a few months, he was already broken.

    now,

    The director hovered at the door, nervous. “Ms. Rivers, is there… anything else you need?”

    Sloane turned to look at him, her stare razor–sharp. “You’re done here. Get out.”

    “Of course! Yes!” The director practically tripped over himself backing away. “If you need anything, just call.”

    Once he was gone, Sloane turned her gaze back to the trembling man in the corner. Her eyes glinted coldly. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small metal device–about the size of a pocket watch, etched with intricate, maze- like patterns.

    She walked over and crouched in front of him, slowly swinging the device back and forth in front of his face. Boone’s eyes began to follow the motion, drawn in. His gaze turned hazy, and the muttering from his lips started to fade.

    “Boone, look at me.” Her voice dropped even lower, slow and cold,ced with something impossible to resist.

    His eyes slowly settled, but they stayed nk and lifeless, like he wasn’t in control of his own body. He stared straight ahead, still empty–eyed, but clearly under its influence.

    “Tell me,” Sloane said, her words sharp and deliberate. “What do you know about the switch–when Sloane and Samantha were swapped at birth?”

    Boone’s lips twitched. His voice came out dry, t, and mechanical. “Samantha… was the maid’s daughter… Sloane was the real Rivers daughter…”

    Sloane’s brows knit slightly. She pressed on, her voice razor–sharp. “Neen years ago–did the Rivers family make any enemies who’d never let it igo/i?”

    Chapter 207 Hypnosis

    From behind the iron doors lining the corridor, madughter and sudden screams echoed through the halls. But the moment the patients caught a glimpse of Sloane through the small windows in their cell doors, the chaos fell intoplete silence -thick, heavy, suffocating silence.

    “She… she’s back…” one patient whimpered, curled up in the corner, eyes wide with fear.

    “The devil… the devil came back…” Another clutched his head and rocked back and forth, whispering in a shrill, broken voice like he was trying to shut out a nightmare only he could see.

    Sloane didn’t even flinch. She walked on, unfazed, like she’d seen this all a thousand times before. Her eyes stayed fixed straight ahead, her steps steady and unshaken.

    The director wiped the sweat from his forehead and spoke cautiously. “Ms. Rivers, Mr. Boone’s… he’s not in a stable state right now. Are you sure you want to see him?”

    Sloane shot him a cold nce. “What do you think? You think I came all the way here in the middle of the night for fun?”

    The director shook his head quickly, his voice flustered. “N–No, of course not. I just… I’m worried he might hurt you.”

    She let out a dryugh. “That’s not your concern. Just take me to him.”

    The director didn’t dare speak again. He picked up the pace, leading her down the dim corridor until they reached the room where Boone was being held.

    The door swung open, and a wave of musty, sour air hit her in the face. Boone was huddled in the corner, looking like hell. His hair was a knotted mess, his clothes were filthy and hanging off him in rags, and his eyes were nk–staring at nothing like he wasn’t even there.

    He yanked something out of his hair and shoved it into his mouth, mumbling to

    himself in a low, garbled voice that didn’t make any sense.

    Sloane gave the director a nod. He fumbled with his keys and unlocked the iron door.

    She pushed open the iron door and stepped inside. Her eyes were cold and sharp as she crouched beside Boone. Reaching out, she grabbed his chin and forced his head up.

    “Boone, do you remember me?” Her voice was quiet, like something dead whispering from the shadows.

    Boone’s gaze was unfocused. He kept mumbling, “No… don’te near me… devil… you’re all devils…”

    Sloane’s eyes darkened. She let go of his face and stood up, her voice tinged with mockery. “So he really has lost his mind.”

    He was the one who had suggested locking her in this ce all those years ago. So she was simply returning the favor. But honestly? He didn’tst long. In barely a few months, he was already broken.

    now,

    The director hovered at the door, nervous. “Ms. Rivers, is there… anything else you need?”

    Sloane turned to look at him, her stare razor–sharp. “You’re done here. Get out.”

    “Of course! Yes!” The director practically tripped over himself backing away. “If you need anything, just call.”

    Once he was gone, Sloane turned her gaze back to the trembling man in the corner. Her eyes glinted coldly. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small metal device–about the size of a pocket watch, etched with intricate, maze- like patterns.

    She walked over and crouched in front of him, slowly swinging the device back and forth in front of his face. Boone’s eyes began to follow the motion, drawn in. His gaze turned hazy, and the muttering from his lips started to fade.

    “Boone, look at me.” Her voice dropped even lower, slow and cold,ced with something impossible to resist.

    His eyes slowly settled, but they stayed nk and lifeless, like he wasn’t in control of his own body. He stared straight ahead, still empty–eyed, but clearly under its influence.

    “Tell me,” Sloane said, her words sharp and deliberate. “What do you know about the switch–when Sloane and Samantha were swapped at birth?”

    Boone’s lips twitched. His voice came out dry, t, and mechanical. “Samantha… was the maid’s daughter… Sloane was the real Rivers daughter…”

    Sloane’s brows knit slightly. She pressed on, her voice razor–sharp. “Neen years ago–did the Rivers family make any enemies who’d never let it igo/i?”