Page 65 of See Me After Class

"Lila, who is this woman you just mentioned?" I asked, my tone curious but not accusatory.

She looked at me, panic flickering in her eyes before she masked it. "Just a figment of my imagination. I thought I saw someone that night, but I was wrong."

I noted the discrepancy but didn't press further. Instead, I guided the conversation toward her feelings and coping mechanisms since the incident. But throughout the session, a nagging thought stayed with me. Lila was holding back, hiding a crucial piece of her story.

After the session ended, Lila offered me a bright smile and left me to my thoughts. Dr. Thorne joined me shortly after. His eyes held a lot of scrutiny. "Well?"

I rotated a ballpoint pen between my index finger and thumb. "She's not saying everything, that's for sure. Something about her is off."

"Tell me what that is."

I reflected on the way she spoke, her mannerisms, the haunting in her eyes. "She's built a perfect image of a girl in distress who's managed to come out of trouble all by herself. It makes her a sweetheart—strong, vulnerable, and…" I hesitated.

"Go on." Dr. Thorne encouraged me, his smile gentle, coaxing out my thoughts.

I hesitated for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "It increases her commercial value," I finally said, my voice soft but certain. "She wrote a bestseller, didn't she?"

"She did," he affirmed, leaning back in his chair and tenting his fingers in front of him.

"I can't tell how much of her story is real, but there's definitely something else that we can't see. I need some more time with her."

Dr. Thorne nodded briskly, his eyes meeting mine with a sharp intensity. "Take all the time you need. She's a regular." There was a weight to his words, a gravity that underscored the importance of the case.

"Dessie…" he started again, his tone shifting.

"Yes?" I responded, looking up, my attention fully on him.

His smile softened, a warmth radiating from it that was both comforting and encouraging. "You and I are going to make a good team."

Those words struck a chord within me, igniting a warm rush of emotions. It was the kind of feeling that came from gaining recognition, from being seen and valued by someone you respect. I felt a sense of belonging, a connection that had been sorely missing since Oswald's passing.

In Dr. Thorne, I found not just a mentor but a confidant. He was senior, undoubtedly brilliant, and carried with him a sense of wisdom that was both grounding and slightly eccentric. I realized in that moment how much I had missed having someone to share the intricacies of cases with, someone whocould offer guidance, challenge my thinking, and appreciate the nuances of the human psyche.

Before I could formulate a response, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Its sudden intrusion startled me. I pulled it out, my eyes narrowing as I read the message on the screen. It was from Viktor. His text was brief, almost cryptic.Come to the greenhouse. It's important.

A swirl of emotions churned inside me. Annoyance, curiosity, and frustratingly, a spark of excitement that the message ignited almost instantly. I found myself annoyed at my own reaction, at how easily my mood could shift. I didn't reply, choosing silence over engagement.

Turning to Dr. Thorne, I tried to keep my voice steady. "Dr. Thorne, do I have any other cases today?"

He looked up from his papers, adjusting his glasses as he met my gaze. "You do not," he replied, his tone suggesting he sensed there was something more behind my question. "Back to the Institute?"

I nodded. There was a hint of hesitation in my movement. "Yes." My voice was a mix of determination and a feigned indifference I didn't quite feel.

Leaving Dr. Thorne's office, I made my way outside. The journey back was nondescript, save my churning thoughts about Lila Monroe. After parking, I bypassed the main gate, my steps unconsciously guiding me toward a less-trodden path. The shadows grew longer, stretching out like fingers across the path.

The path to the Institute's greenhouse wound through the yew gardens, a labyrinth of dark, twisted green. I quickened my pace, the gravel crunching under my shoes with each hurried step. Light danced between the ancient trees, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, whispering secrets, telling me to turn back. But I couldn't.

My heart pounded in my chest, its rhythm syncing with the rustle of leaves. The air was thick with the scents of damp earth and moss, a heady, almost intoxicating mix. I glanced over my shoulder, the feeling of being watched prickling at my neck.

Ahead, the greenhouse loomed, a silhouette against the waning light. Its glass panels, fogged and dull, reflected the last rays of the sun, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the ground. I approached with caution, my steps hesitant.

Reaching the door, I paused, taking a deep breath. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, a sense of something unknown, something lurking just beyond the threshold.

I pushed the door open, the hinges creaking softly. Warm, humid air enveloped me as I stepped inside. The greenhouse was a jungle of vibrant, lush greenery, an oasis of life amid the Institute's stoic architecture.

Dr. Viktor Magnusson stood among the verdant foliage, his figure partially obscured by a tall fern. "Dr. Davenport," he greeted, his voice echoing slightly in the enclosed space. "I've been expecting you."

He wasn't alone, I discovered. From behind an enclosed space, Dr. Galbraith and Leon emerged.

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