All Chapters of Forbidden never felt this good : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

They didn’t announce who the stress point was.They didn’t have to.The system adjusted around him like gravity acknowledging mass.The unfamiliar man, my father's best friend became the quiet center of the room, the place the data bent toward without ever naming it. The lights above him softened fractionally. The ambient hum sharpened around his position, like attention narrowing its gaze.Mary felt it instantly.“They’ve isolated him without separating him,” she said. “That’s deliberate.”My pulse beat hard, not from attraction but from the danger of recognition. Because once the system understood where pressure worked, it would never stop testing it.“This ends now,” I said.The Oversight officer turned to me calmly. “This is observation, Cassie Vale. You’re the one escalating interpretation.”“I’m the one being measured without consent,” I shot back. “And so are they.”Marcus stepped closer to my left, grounding. “You already have enough data,” he said coldly. “Anything beyond thi

They didn’t isolate him the way they isolated the others.That was how I knew he mattered differently.I realized it when the system rerouted me again same corridor pattern, same sterile, calm, but this time, there was no warning pulse. No proximity restriction flashing across my wristband.Mary noticed it before I spoke.“They left a channel open,” she said.“For who?” I asked, though my chest already knew the answer.A door slid open at the end of the hall.Not forced.Not summoned.Waiting.The room beyond was smaller than the last, warmer somehow, as if the system hadn’t fully decided how cold it wanted to be.He was already there.Leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, posture relaxed in a way that was anything but.My stepbrother.The moment our eyes met, something tightened low in my body, sharp, instinctive, unwelcome in how familiar it felt.“Cassie,” he said quietly.The system did not intervene.No warning.No pulse.No deviation alert.That scared me more than any ala

The system did not rush me.That was the cruelest part.No countdown.No blaring alarm forcing instinct over thought.Just quiet.A stillness so deliberate it felt like pressure on my chest.Elliot was still restrained when I looked back at him. His breathing had evened out, not because he was calm, but because he’d learned when panic only made things worse. His eyes never left mine. Not pleading. Not accusing.Trusting.That trust hurt more than the restraints.The other room remained open. Transparent. Waiting.He stood there without moving closer, without trying to draw my attention the way the system clearly expected him to. His posture wasn’t defensive, wasn’t aggressive. It was patient in a way that felt dangerous.As if he already understood what this moment would cost me.“They’re mapping delay,” Mary murmured inside me. “Every second you hesitate sharpens their model.”“I know,” I whispered.HESITATION INDEX: ACTIVE.The words hovered faintly against the glass wall, pale and

Forty eight hours feels theoretical when you’re told it.Abstract.Manageable.It only becomes real when time stops behaving like time.There were no clocks in the room. No windows. No shifts in light to mark progress. The system didn’t need me oriented, it needed me available. Present. Awake enough to notice what it withheld.Sleep came in fragments. Thought never stopped.They fed me on schedule. Hydration first. Then nutrients calibrated to baseline stress response. Enough to keep the body functional. Not enough to soften the edges.I noticed the absence more than anything else.No footsteps beyond the wall where his cadence used to pass at irregular intervals. No subtle hum spike when he entered a shared space. No quiet, unconscious alignment of my breathing with someone else’s.I hadn’t realized how much of my awareness had oriented around him until the space stayed empty.“This is intentional,” Mary said softly.“I know.”“They’re measuring substitution,” she continued. “If your

They didn’t let me rest.I should have expected that. The system never rewards composure. It punishes it, tests how long you can hold yourself together before it decides to pull you apart again.The room didn’t reset this time.That was the first warning.The bench remained where I’d collapsed onto it. The lighting stayed dimmer than regulation. Even the hum beneath the floor shifted into something slower, more deliberate, like a pulse that had learned my rhythm.Mary was quiet.Not absent.Listening.“They’re not escalating with force,” I murmured.“No,” she replied carefully. “They’re escalating with intimacy.”My shoulders tensed.The door slid open without announcement.He walked in like he belonged there.Not cautious.Not guarded.Not pretending this was neutral ground.My stepbrother closed the distance with a confidence that made my stomach drop.Adrian.I rose to my feet instantly. “No.”He stopped, only because he wanted to, not because the system asked him to.“They told me