Chapter 10: All In

The morning sun filters through the curtains, painting soft patterns of light on the walls. I stir, the events of last night creeping back into my consciousness like a bad dream. My mind is still reeling from Joe’s unexpected visit, his cruel words echoing in my head, but there’s something else now—a buzzing excitement, a sense of purpose.

I sit up and spot the sleek black phone Agent Jones handed me last night sitting on the nightstand. I pick it up, feeling its cool weight in my hand. The thing looks like something out of a sci-fi movie—sleek, with no branding or logos, just a smooth, dark screen that flickers to life the moment I touch it. I punch in my birthdate as the passcode, and the phone unlocks instantly.

It’s fast, almost unnervingly so. Everything is smooth, effortless. I swipe through the interface, which is intuitive, almost as if it’s anticipating my next move. There are only two numbers saved in the phone—Jones and Dr. Reed.

No time like the present.

I tap on Dr. Reed’s contact and hit the call button. The phone rings twice before I hear her crisp, no-nonsense voice on the other end.

“Professor Lockwood. I take it you’ve made your decision?”

“Yes,” I say, my voice steady. “I’ve decided to take part in the experiment.”

There’s a pause on the other end, and I can almost hear the smile in her voice when she responds. “I knew you would.”

“You knew?”

“Of course,” Dr. Reed says, and I can picture her sitting there with that confident smirk of hers. “You’re a woman of conviction, Professor. You were never going to walk away from something like this. You’re too invested, too driven. It’s in your nature.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I admit, feeling a mix of pride and anxiety. “So, what’s next?”

“We’ll meet tonight to go over the details,” Dr. Reed says, her tone all business now. “There’s a conference room at the top of the Empire State Building. I’ve already booked it.”

“The Empire State Building?” I repeat, slightly taken aback. “Isn’t that a bit... public?”

Dr. Reed chuckles softly. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s a private room, completely secure. We like to keep things... dramatic, let’s say. Adds a bit of flair to our meetings. Besides, I knew you were going to say yes, so I took the liberty of booking the room.”

“How did you know I’d say yes?” I ask, curious.

“Call it a hunch,” she replies, her voice light. “I’ve been doing this a long time, Liberty. I know people. And I know you.”

I sigh, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “Alright then. What time?”

“Jones will pick you up at 6 PM sharp. Be ready.”

“Got it,” I say, and before I can thank her, she’s already hung up.

The rest of the day is a blur. I try to distract myself with work, but my mind keeps drifting back to the meeting, to what lies ahead. I can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and dread. This is it. Everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve believed in—it’s all led to this moment.

When the clock finally hits 5:45, I’m dressed and ready, but I still feel a bit uncertain. I went with my usual lecturing outfit—neat, presentable, and modest. It’s almost like a catsuit, but with a more academic, professor vibe. The kind of outfit that says, “I mean business,” but also, “I’m not here to mess around.”

I stand in the lobby of my building, checking the time again, even though I know Jones will be punctual. He seems like the type who’s never late. Sure enough, at exactly 6 PM, a sleek black car pulls up to the curb, and Jones steps out.

“Professor,” he greets me with a nod. He opens the door for me, and I slide into the back seat.

The drive is smooth, and the city passes by in a blur of lights and movement. New York at night is alive, electric. People are everywhere, going about their lives, oblivious to the fact that I’m on my way to something that could change the world.

Jones weaves through the traffic effortlessly, and soon we’re pulling up to the Empire State Building. It’s a towering monolith of steel and glass, the city’s most iconic structure. I step out of the car, feeling a mix of awe and apprehension.

Inside, the lobby is a blend of old-world elegance and modern efficiency. The art deco design is stunning—polished marble floors, brass fixtures, and intricate murals on the walls. People mill about, tourists and professionals alike, but Jones leads me straight to a private elevator, away from the crowds.

The elevator ride is silent, the only sound the soft hum of the machinery as we ascend. My stomach does a little flip as we reach the top, and the doors slide open to reveal a long hallway, carpeted in deep red. At the end is a set of double doors, polished wood with brass handles. Jones gestures for me to go ahead, and I take a deep breath before pushing them open.

The room is breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, the lights twinkling like stars in the night. The furniture is sleek and modern, with a long glass table in the center, surrounded by high-backed leather chairs. A chandelier hangs above, casting a warm, golden light over everything.

And there, standing by the window, is Dr. Reed.

“Liberty,” she says, turning to face me with a smile. “Welcome.”

“Thank you,” I reply, my voice steady, though my heart is racing. I walk over to the table, taking in the view as I sit down.

Dr. Reed joins me, sitting across from me. She’s dressed sharply, as always, her suit perfectly tailored, her hair pulled back in a sleek bun. She exudes confidence, the kind of woman who’s always in control.

“Let’s get down to business,” Dr. Reed says, pulling out a thick folder from her bag. She places it on the table between us, the letters “NDA” stamped in bold on the front. “This is your Non-Disclosure Agreement. You’ll need to sign this before we proceed.”

I nod, taking the folder and flipping through the pages. It’s thick, filled with legal jargon, but the gist is clear—I’m not to discuss this experiment with anyone, ever. I skim through it quickly, then grab the pen she offers and sign my name at the bottom.

“Excellent,” Dr. Reed says, taking the folder back and tucking it away. “Now, let’s talk about your role in the experiment.”

“I’ve been thinking,” I begin, choosing my words carefully. “I want to make a change to the experiment.”

Dr. Reed raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on.”

“I don’t think it’s ethical to ask other women to participate in this,” I say, my voice firm. “This is my theory, my experiment. I’m the one who should test it. I want to be the ‘test subject’—the only woman living in the men’s prison.”

Dr. Reed’s eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t interrupt. I continue.

“It’s personal for me, Dr. Reed,” I say, leaning forward. “You see, my mother was one of those women—those serial killer groupies who get obsessed with an unattainable guy on death row. She married him in prison and had one night of passion with him during a conjugal visit. That’s how I was conceived.”

Dr. Reed’s expression doesn’t change, but I can see the wheels turning in her mind. She’s processing this, analyzing it.

“She was always depressed, always living half a life because he was imprisoned,” I say, my voice growing softer. “Then, when I was just a kid, after my father was finally executed... she took her own life.”

Dr. Reed’s gaze is intense, her blue-grey eyes boring into mine. “And that’s what drives you to be so obsessive and dedicated to the idea of rehabilitating dangerous criminals,” she says, finishing my train of thought. “I get it. You have a very personal connection to the experiment.”

“Yes,” I say, my voice unwavering. “That’s why no one else is fit for this. No one but me.”

For a moment, the room is silent, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Then, Dr. Reed nods slowly, a look of understanding in her eyes.

“I knew everything about you, Liberty,” she says, her voice softer now. “I have a file as big as a King James Bible on you. I know your favorite breakfast cereal. I know your bra cup size. But what you’ve just told me... it makes sense. I see why this is so important to you.”

I swallow hard, feeling a mix of relief and determination. “So you’ll let me do it?”

Dr. Reed smiles, a small, knowing smile. “Yes. We’ll proceed with your plan. You’ll be the sole female participant in the experiment.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. This is it. It’s really happening.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice filled with gratitude.

Dr. Reed stands, extending her hand across the table. “You’re welcome, Professor. I’ll see you in two weeks. Jones will be in touch with the details.”

I shake her hand,

feeling a sense of finality in the gesture. As I leave the room, the weight of what I’ve just agreed to settles over me. It’s a mix of fear, excitement, and something else—something deeper.

As I step into the elevator, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirrored walls. I look calm, composed, but beneath the surface, I’m anything but.

Two weeks. Two weeks until everything changes.

The doors slide shut, and the elevator begins its descent.