Fallon sighed. “I understand you have a history with Brittany Freeman and want her to be alive. But you need to consider that what Britt believes happened to her could also be true. She could be someone completely innocent who got pulled into this diabolical situation through no fault of her own. Maybe Alejandro wanted to pass her off as Britt to solidify his position in Quattro. But when Titus was killed, he realized he didn’t need to anymore. From our research, Alejandro was head over heels in love with Britt. Do you really think he’d kill her now that he has almost everything he wanted? But he would kill a fake Britt in a heartbeat.”
Lachlan tensed and looked away. He didn’t believe for one second that he was wrong about Britt. They didn’t know the connection between him and Britt that had never died. The one that pulsed between them every time they were in the same room with each other. He’d feel it even if they’d changed her faceto look like someone else. Even if her face were burned beyond recognition, he would know it was her.
“Okay, so the physical assessment proved that she had plastic surgery,” Everett recounted, redirecting them from the bomb Fallon had dropped in the room.
The alternative theory that was about to unravel Lachlan because he couldn’t fucking refute her points.
Everett asked, “What did you get from her psychological exam?”
“We're looking at dissociative memory suppression—a protective mechanism where the mind walls off traumatic experiences and associated memories. In Britt's case, this extends to her entire identity structure,” Fallon said.
“There’s no scarier emotional trauma than being blown up in a car,” Lachlan erupted, throwing his hands in the air. “That’s enough to freak anybody out and make them want to forget their life.” But he struggled with that truth the moment it left his lips. How could Britt want to leave a life behind that included him and Paloma? Why wasn’t the love they shared and their family enough to make her feel safe to remember? Could it be because she wasn’t truly Britt after all?
“The timing of her memory loss is unknown, but critical to how she’s processing her memories. I can’t say whether the emotional trauma derived from being held captive and subjected to a controversial method of psychological torture triggered the regression or something else,” Fallon said.
“What do you mean by that?” Lachlan demanded.
“The technique they used—systematic identity erasure through sensory bombardment and cognitive overload—is a documented form of psychological reprogramming. It combines sleep deprivation, continuous audiovisual stimulation, and forced narrative reconstruction. The goal is to fragment the subject's sense of self until they can't distinguish betweenimplanted memories and their actual past.” Fallon paused, then gazed at Sebastian. “She believes someone was trying to brainwash her into becoming Brittany Freeman.”
“And what do you believe?” Lachlan snapped.
“I believe her,” Fallon said, dousing him with disappointment. “I don’t think she’s Brittany Freeman. Part of my evaluation touched on Britt’s educational background—political science and law.”
Lachlan steeled himself for more bad news. Britt had been a brilliant lawyer with a keen and proficient understanding of criminal law. A part of her past that had yet to surface in any interactions he’d had with her now.
Fallon nodded. “In cases like Britt’s, procedural memory—skills, training, ingrained knowledge—typically remain intact even when autobiographical memories are suppressed. It's called implicit memory preservation. A lawyer would still understand legal concepts, even if they couldn't remember attending law school.”
“What happened when you tested Britt on that?” Everett asked.
Lachlan closed his eyes, knowing the answer wasn’t what he wanted.
“She showed no trace of this preserved knowledge, which is highly unusual,” Fallon said. “Nor did she appear to exhibit any tell-tale signs that she was purposely hiding her understanding from me.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s not Britt Freeman. She may be one of those rare cases where that part got repressed in her memories as well,” countered Lachlan.
Sebastian turned to Lachlan. “I know you don’t want to go the DNA route, but you should. We need definitive answers on whether she’s Britt or not. It could impact what we need to do to protect her.”
“I agree with Sebastian,” Fallon said. “Britt is more than adamant that she’s not Brittany Freeman. She refuses to be her. She’s working actively not to be her. If she truly is Brittany Freeman, her feelings about who she is could be detrimental to her ever remembering her life. If she’s not Brittany Freeman, then the risk is lower that it could hinder her.”
“I don’t understand. Why would knowing who she is stop her from remembering? If I’m going to put my daughter through a DNA test to prove that Britt’s her mother, I need to know it’s to help Britt remember us.”
“Britt has constructed a protective psychological barrier against being Brittany Freeman. Confronting her with irrefutable evidence of this identity could trigger a severe dissociative episode. Her mind might respond by burying those memories even deeper, possibly creating new layers of identity confusion as a defense mechanism,” Fallon said. “But while you all need to know the truth to help her, I don’t recommend you tell her the findings. If she’s Britt Freeman, she will need a controlled environment that feels safe enough to lower her defensive barriers and integrate those memories at her own pace. It’s the best chance she has.”
Lachlan’s mind reeled from this information. He never imagined having definitive evidence of who she was could be more detrimental to Britt than not having it. And he was having a hard fucking time knowing the truth and not telling her. What the hell would he do if he had scientific proof of what he already knew in his heart? How could he stay away from her then?
“Things are further complicated by a new memory that Britt has since returning to St. Felipe,” Fallon said.
“What memory?” Lachlan asked, hope flaring within him.
“She remembers being a mother,” Fallon said.
“What?” Lachlan gripped the armrests of his chair. “When? How?”
“That’s what I was hoping you could tell me,” Fallon said. “Something happened between the two of you the last time you were together that has left her feeling like a horrible person. Like she’s letting down her child and the family she has out there waiting for her to come home?—”
“I am that family! Paloma and I are her family! We are the ones who love her and want her to come home,” Lachlan said, banging on the table with each word as his conviction deflated. The last time he’d been with Britt, they had given in to their attraction. Kissing and touching her had brought back every memory he had of their life together. It had been as natural as breathing to be with her. They belonged together—but then his phone had rung, and she’d found out he had a child.
If she remembered having one, too, but didn’t think it was with him, she must feel like she was betraying some other man she loved. And maybe she was, if he was wrong about her.
