Read part 1 first, then come here (it’s free, the rest isn’t. )
SUBJECT: INTERNAL DEPLOYMENT PROTOCOL
FILE ID: CASE_ASHER_VALE_2
CLASSIFIED – INTERNAL DISTRIBUTION ONLY
I. FULL IMMERSION DEPLOYMENT
Nobody asked why I was running the call, they just needed their dose.
Seventeen faces in grid formation. Boxed devotion. Microphones muted. Pupils dilated.
“Rebecca,” I say. My voice. His rhythm.“What if you’re not failing? What if the system is designed to make you feel this way?”
Her shoulders drop. Muscles soften. Eyes water.
Phase 1: Validation achieved.
I touch my watch. Same gesture and tempo as Asher. Mimicry bordering on muscle memory. I know the moment I’ve entered resonance. I know because he did it to me.
Phase I conversion: timestamp archived
Back then I was sleeping on my brother’s floor mattress in his apartment. Divorce papers on the counter. My ex took the house, the car, and the narrative.
At 12:08 AM, I found him on YouTube. “Why Your Marriage Really Failed” — 847K views. His voice seemed believable after I just watched my wife fuck another man.
“You think she left because of the fights. The debt. The coldness.”
”Is he talking to me?”
“She left because you never believed you deserved her.”
Replay. Again. Again. Again. Until I bought something. Then bought more.
Two weeks later I was on a discovery call, lying about my credit limit.
“Tell me about the divorce,” he said.
So I did. How she cheated and my silence when she said she was done.
“You ever notice how you sabotage anything that might make you visible?”
He was right. Just me, my breath, and the laptop fan.
“It’s not that you don’t think you’re good enough. It’s that you don’t think you deserve it.”
$15,000. Gone before the call ended. A small price for salvation.
Now I’m the one saying it. Same cadence. Same lean.
“Look—”
Pause: 2.3 seconds.
“—it’s never about marketing. It’s about your worth.”
Rebecca breaks. Chin trembling. Words stuttering.Box Seven starts crying. Box Twelve reaches for her wallet.
Sequence triggered. Validation — Collapse — Capitalization.
My back screams from posture-perfect alignment. Sweat tracks down my spine.
“Maybe you just don’t believe you deserve to succeed.” The word DESERVE doesn’t feel stolen anymore. It feels like it’s always been mine.
Rebecca sobs. “I—I don’t know why I can’t—”
Box Seven: “Oh my god, yes.”
Box Twelve: “Do you offer private sessions?”
73 minutes later: three breakdowns, one six-figure upsell, and I can’t feel my face.
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