Chapter 13: Changing State

Rachel’s pen scratched haphazardly across her notepad, the ink bleeding into nonsense—Diane’s posture: loose, hips tilted? Hailey’s smirk—premeditated? Sam’s nails: bitten down to quicks—no, painted, chipped cobalt. Devin’s— She blinked. What the hell was she even documenting? Brianna’s sharp, knowing gaze burned into her from across the room, lips pursed in quiet amusement. Control? Gone. Strategy? Fuck it.

Diane settled onto the couch, her palm drifting absently over her still-flat stomach. “Hey, Daddy,” she murmured, patting the cushion beside her with a coy smile. “You should sit next to me.”

Hailey—lounging like a satisfied cat—grinned. “Yeah, Daddy. Sit next to Mommy.” Her toes curled against the rug. “She’s fragile now.”

Devin’s brow furrowed as he glanced between them. “What the hell is—?”

Brianna groaned, tossing her head back. “Christ, Dev. You’re really a dumbass.” She rolled her eyes hard enough to strain a muscle. “Mom took a test this morning. You knocked her up.” A beat. Then, softer: “Again.” She scooted over, patting the space between herself and Diane. “So sit down, Daddy. Between Mommy and me.”

Samantha darted forward, wrapping Diane in a tight hug. “Congrats, Mom!” she chirped before twisting toward Devin. Her smile evaporated. Eyebrows arched. “I’m next.” A pause. “We can start practicing as soon as this session’s over.”

Rachel—still gripping her useless pen—managed a numb nod. “Congratulations,” she offered, voice hollow.

Brianna’s laugh was a blade. “Phase Ninety-Five, huh Doc?” She stretched, catlike. “Guess we’re writing your notes now.”

The atomizer in the drawer might as well have been a paperweight.

And the session hadn’t even started.

Devin exhaled, slow, and took his seat.

Right where they’d placed him.

Rachel cleared her throat, smoothing her skirt as she prepared to steer the session. “Now that we’ve—”

Brianna snorted, flicking her fingers dismissively. “Oh please, Doc. Your little puppet strings snapped weeks ago.” She sprawled further across the couch, one bare foot nudging Diane’s knee. “Just park your ass over here before you pull something trying to pretend.” Her grin was sharp enough to draw blood. “We’ll call it group therapy.”

Rachel’s spine straightened reflexively—old habits—but the fight drained just as fast. She crossed the room on unsteady legs and sank into the waiting space between Brianna and Hailey, her hands folding neatly in her lap. Too late for professionalism now. The leather creaked beneath her, still warm from Devin’s weight.

Hailey’s fingers drummed against her thigh—tap tap tap—a metronome counting down Rachel’s silence.

Explain the atomizer. Explain the phases. Explain the why. The thoughts tangled like live wires in Rachel’s skull. They’d tear the lies apart if she hedged—Brianna’s smirk promised that much—but the truth could bury her. Diane’s palm still rested on her stomach. His child. Theirs now.

Sam’s bare toes curled against the carpet, her voice soft but unwavering. “You look like you’re gonna puke.”

Rachel exhaled through her nose. “I owe you all complete transparency.”

Devin’s chuckle was dark. “Starting with why you picked me as your golden boy?” His thumb traced Diane’s wrist absently. “Or was that just logistics?”

“No.” Too fast. Rachel forced her shoulders down. “It was always—”

Brianna’s knee bumped hers. “Careful,” she sing-songed. “We know when you’re lying.” Her nails scraped Rachel’s inner thigh—warning. “Try again.”

The room tilted.

Rachel closed her eyes.

And jumped.

“I wanted him to ruin you.” Her voice sounded alien—raw, unvarnished. “All of you. Especially her.” A nod toward Diane. “A son owning his mother...” Her lashes fluttered open. “It’s art.”

Silence.

Then Hailey’s delighted gasp. “Fuck yes.” She clapped twice. “Now we’re talking.”

Rachel’s pulse hammered.

Phase One Hundred: Survival.

Rachel exhaled, her fingers twisting the hem of her skirt. “My mother left when I was one,” she began, voice steadier than she felt. The room’s attention prickled against her skin—hungry—but she didn’t look up. “Never knew why. Just... gone.” Her thumb traced a seam absently. “Overheard my grandmother once—said she was pregnant with another man’s baby when she bolted.” A bitter chuckle escaped. “Dad burned every photo. Never spoke her name. Left me with... nothing.”

Hailey’s foot nudged hers—keep going.

Rachel swallowed. “First crush? Panic.” Her laugh was jagged. “Could’ve been my brother for all I knew. Every flirtation—was she my aunt? Every kiss—did we share blood?” Her nails dug into her palms. “And then there was my cousin.” The words soured on her tongue. “Dad’s side. Too close with her brothers. Too... familiar.” A muscle twitched in her jaw. “Caught her sneaking out of his room once—claimed he was napping. But he emerged ten minutes later, hair mussed, flushed.” Her gaze flicked to Brianna. “Another time, walked in on her pressed against her brother on a bed—guilty as sin. Never saw the kiss. Didn’t need to.”

Silence.

Then Devin’s quiet curse. “So you fixated.”

Rachel’s smile was thin. “Obsession’s just love with teeth.” She finally looked up—met Diane’s widening eyes. “Watched my cousin’s family thrive on secrets. While I... rotted in what-ifs.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose. “Dad was exactly like Sean,” she admitted, flicking a glance toward Diane. “Handsome, successful—weak.” Her fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against her thigh. “Except Dad wasn’t surrounded by models. Just molecules.” A dry chuckle. “Turned our garage into a lab. Worked nights synthesizing antidepressants for pharma companies. His real passion? Erasing pain chemically.” Her thumb brushed her lower lip absently. “Problem was ... I wasn’t a chemical.”

Brianna’s knee pressed against hers—silent go on.

Rachel swallowed. “He’d forget to pick me up from school. Forget birthdays. Once left me locked in the car for three hours outside a bar.” She shrugged. “Not his fault. Numbers made sense to him. People?” A bitter twist of her lips. “He’d stare right through them.”

Hailey’s fingers stilled on Devin’s shoulder. “So you what—turned into a horny little incest gremlin to cope?”

Rachel’s laugh was sudden, jagged. “Tried dating. Boys? Girls? Didn’t matter.” Her nails dug crescents into her palms. “Every time someone touched me—what if they’re my brother? My cousin?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “The fear was... paralyzing. Until I realized—” A sharp inhale. “The thrill was worse.”

Devin’s brow furrowed. “Worse?”

Rachel met his gaze—held it. “First time I came? Freshman year. Watching my lab partner—second cousin—lick frosting off her girlfriend’s neck.” Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. “Told myself it was the lesbian thing that turned me on.” A hollow smile. “Lied for years.”

She exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders back. “Went into psychiatry to fix myself. Figured if I could understand the wiring, I could rewire it.” A bitter chuckle. “Turns out? I’m just as fucked up as everyone else.” Her fingers twitched toward the atomizer drawer—empty-handed. “Difference is ... I succeeded. I succeeded with one of my first clients - the Tomar family.”

Diane stiffened. “Wait—you don’t mean the Tomar family?” Recognition flashed in her eyes. “Jose and Lucia? The coffee millionaires?”

Rachel’s smirk was razor-thin. “Same clients. Same... solution.” Her pulse thrummed at the memory—Marcos’ first hesitant touch, Lucia’s muffled gasp against her son’s collarbone. “Pushed Marcos into his mother’s arms session three.” She shrugged. “Should’ve crashed and burned. Instead?” A slow blink. “Jose thanked me.”

Hailey’s eyebrow arched. “Fuuuck. So Daddy just... shared?”

“More than shared.” Rachel’s throat tightened. “Last I checked? They all sleep in the same bed. Jose holds Lucia while Marcos fucks her.” Her nails dug into her skirt. “Lucia’s youngest—Miracle?” A dry laugh. “No one’s sure if she’s Jose’s daughter or granddaughter now.”

Brianna whistled low. “And that just... fed your little breeding kink, huh?”

Rachel’s chin lifted—defiant. “Incest was my obsession. Impregnation?” Her lips curled. “The cure.” She spread her hands—confession. “Illegal? Obviously. But watching a son claim his mother...” Her breath hitched. “Nothing else worked.”

Devin’s jaw tightened. “So we were just—what? Another project?”

Rachel hesitated—just for a beat—before exhaling sharply through her nose. “Not ... exactly.” Her fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against her knee. “Tomar was the first. Then the Liangs. The Garcias. The...” She waved a hand dismissively. “Three years. Almost every family client.” A dry chuckle escaped her. “Didn’t always work. Some fought back too hard—walked out.” Her gaze flicked to Diane. “Most didn’t.”

Brianna snorted. “And let me guess—your success rate made you famous?”

Rachel’s lips twitched—almost a smile. “Reputation’s everything in psychiatry.” She hesitated again, shoulders tensing like she was bracing for a blow. “But ... it wasn’t just me.” The admission came out quiet, almost reluctant.

She inhaled sharply before continuing. “Dad perfected the aerosol two months after the Tomar case.” Her thumb brushed her lower lip absently. “A compound that—when inhaled—makes the brain... pliable.” Her fingers twitched, miming a spray. “Low doses? Like alcohol dialed to eleven—inhibitions gone. High concentration?” A slow blink. “Hypnosis without the pesky resistance.”

Hailey leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Wait—hypnosis can’t make you do shit you don’t want to do.”

Rachel nodded. “Exactly. The aerosol... softens that rule.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Still can’t force someone to act against their nature. But if you can tie the suggestion to something they already want?” Her smile turned razor-thin. “Suddenly, anything’s possible.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “So you... dosed us?”

Rachel met her gaze—held it. “Only when you were already close to the edge.” Her fingers curled into her skirt. “Devin wanted Diane. Diane ached for Devin. Brianna—”

Brianna’s laugh cut her off—sharp, delighted. “Oh, fuck yes.” She licked her lips. “Doc’s just the catalyst.”

Rachel’s pulse hammered in her throat.

Phase One Hundred and One: No turning back.

Rachel swallowed, throat dry as sandpaper. She could feel the weight of their gazes—expectant, hungry, judging—but she pressed on. “Your family was perfect,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Just ... stuck. Like a fucking wind-up toy someone forgot to twist.” Her fingers twitched against her thighs. “All you needed was ... a push.”

Brianna snorted, stretching lazily. “And Sean?”

Rachel’s lips curled into something too sharp to be a smile. “Sean was a man who wanted the title of ‘husband’ without the work. ‘Father’ without the responsibility.” She exhaled sharply through her nose. “He was always going to leave—or worse, stay halfway—until the titles weren’t enough.” A pause, her gaze flicking toward Diane. “I just ... sped up the timeline.”

Diane’s fingers twitched against her stomach, a thin sheen of sweat glistening at her temples. Rachel leaned forward—slow, predatory—her voice dropping to a husky murmur. “And you, Mrs. Nolan...” A soft chuckle. “You were a pressure cooker waiting to pop.” Her nails scraped the armrest. “Repressed, neglected, starved for attention—but too good, too moral to touch any of the pretty young things drooling over you in the faculty lounge.”

Brianna snorted into her palm.

Rachel ignored her, eyes locked on Diane. “You were this close—” she pinched thumb and forefinger together “—to snapping. Another six months, maybe a year? You’d have been fucking some quarterback in the math lab after school. Maybe a cheerleader in the back of your minivan.” A slow, deliberate blink. “And then? Eventually? Someone younger.” Her voice darkened. “Someone too young.”

Diane flinched—but her lips parted on a shaky exhale.

Rachel pressed harder. “You know it’s true. You felt it—that itch under your skin every time one of Hailey’s friends leaned too close. Every time Devin walked past you shirtless.” Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. “You weren’t just close to crossing that line ... You were sprinting toward it.”

The silence was thick enough to choke on.

Then—Diane nodded. Just once. Sharp. Defeated.

Brianna smirked, stretching her arms overhead. “So Doc just redirected Mommy’s slutty little breakdown into something productive.” She winked. “And incesty.”