The Therapist: Chapter 1

The rain lashed against the windshield of Dr. Marcus Oladipo’s aging Toyota Corolla as he navigated the chaotic streets of Lagos. Traffic crawled at its usual snail’s pace, and the blaring horns from impatient drivers mixed with the relentless sound of the downpour. The dampness in the air seeped into the car, but Marcus hardly noticed. His mind was far from the chaotic roads of Ikeja; it was firmly locked on the problem that had been gnawing at his sanity for weeks.

Seventy-five million naira.

The number loomed in his thoughts like a specter, haunting every waking moment and invading his dreams. Just a year ago, he had been one of the city’s most sought-after marriage therapists, with a reputation for salvaging even the most fractured relationships. His clients ranged from prominent politicians to celebrities, all willing to pay exorbitant fees for his services. But now, that life felt like a distant memory.

It had started innocently enough. A friend—if Marcus could even call him that now—had approached him with an investment opportunity that sounded too good to be true. It was a Ponzi scheme, though it had been disguised as a legitimate financial venture. Blinded by the allure of quick wealth, Marcus had poured his life savings into it, along with borrowed money from clients and even a substantial loan from a local loan shark, Baba Jide. When the scheme inevitably collapsed, Marcus found himself not only broke but owing millions to one of Lagos’s most dangerous men.

Baba Jide wasn’t just any loan shark. He was the head of a syndicate that operated from the grimy underbelly of Lagos, a man whose reputation for ruthlessness preceded him. Tales of those who crossed him—broken limbs, vanished bodies—circulated in hushed whispers. Marcus had been naïve enough to believe he could pay the loan back before the deadline, but now he was seven days away from the reckoning.

His phone buzzed on the dashboard, jolting him back to the present. He glanced at the screen. It was Baba Jide.

For a moment, Marcus considered ignoring the call, but his hand moved instinctively, answering before his courage failed him.

“Oladipo,” the gravelly voice on the other end drawled, the thick Yoruba accent unmistakable. “Have you found my money?”

Marcus swallowed hard. His throat felt dry despite the humidity in the air. “I’m working on it, Baba Jide. I—I just need a little more time.”

There was a pause on the line, and Marcus could hear the faint murmur of voices and clinking glasses in the background. Baba Jide was likely at one of his dens, surrounded by his thugs.

“You’ve been needing ‘a little more time’ for months now,” Baba Jide said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that sent shivers down Marcus’s spine. “You have seven days, Oladipo. Seven. After that…”

Marcus didn’t need him to finish the sentence. The threat was implicit, and the tone alone was enough to make his chest tighten.

“I understand,” he stammered.

The line went dead.

---

The car crawled forward as traffic eased slightly. Marcus gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. His office wasn’t far now, a small suite on the third floor of an unassuming building in Ikeja. It had once been a place of pride for him, a symbol of his success. Now, it was just another reminder of how far he had fallen.

As he parked and climbed the stairs, Marcus felt the weight of exhaustion settle over him. His office smelled faintly of lavender, a scent chosen to create a calming atmosphere for his clients. The irony wasn’t lost on him; he needed the calming more than anyone.

He sat heavily at his desk, staring at the stack of unpaid bills and final notices that littered its surface. The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle, and the soft patter on the windows seemed almost mocking.

He reached into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a bottle of whiskey he kept for emergencies. He poured a generous amount into a mug and downed it in one gulp. The warmth spread through his chest, dulling the edges of his anxiety.

He needed a plan.

But every plan he could think of seemed destined to fail. He had considered going to the police, but what could they do against someone like Baba Jide? The man’s reach extended into law enforcement, and Marcus knew that involving the authorities would likely make things worse.

Then there was the matter of his practice. Business had slowed to a trickle after the scandal surrounding the Ponzi scheme. Word had spread that Dr. Oladipo wasn’t as trustworthy as he appeared, and many of his high-profile clients had quietly distanced themselves.

A knock on the door interrupted his spiraling thoughts.

“Come in,” he said, his voice weary.

The door creaked open, and his receptionist, Ada, peeked in. “Dr. Oladipo, your 10 o’clock canceled, but there’s someone here without an appointment. He says it’s urgent.”

Marcus frowned. Walk-ins weren’t common, especially for a practice like his. “Did he give his name?”

Ada shook her head. “He just said he’s willing to pay double your usual rate for a session.”

Marcus perked up at that. Double his usual rate wouldn’t solve his problems, but it was a start. “Send him in.”

Moments later, the man entered. He was tall and imposing, dressed in an expensive suit that screamed wealth and power. Marcus recognized him instantly: Chief Victor Adebayo, a prominent businessman whose name was a staple in the society pages of Lagos newspapers.

“Dr. Oladipo,” Victor said, his voice smooth and confident as he extended a hand. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

Marcus shook his hand, though his mind was racing. Why would someone like Victor Adebayo seek him out?

“What can I do for you, Chief Adebayo?” Marcus asked, gesturing for him to sit.

Victor sat down, exuding an aura of control. But as he began to speak, Marcus detected the slightest crack in the facade.

“I’m here because I need your help,” Victor said. “My wife… our marriage is in trouble, and I can’t afford for it to fall apart.”

Marcus nodded slowly, his therapist instincts kicking in. “I see. And does your wife share your desire to work on the marriage?”

Victor hesitated, a flicker of something—was it doubt? fear?—crossing his face. “She… she agreed to come. But I’ll be honest with you, Doctor. I think she’s ready to leave me. I need you to help me fix this.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his mind already calculating. A wealthy couple like the Adebayos could be a goldmine if he played his cards right. Perhaps this was the lifeline he needed.

“I’ll do everything I can to help,” Marcus said, forcing a reassuring smile. “When can we schedule the first session?”

Victor’s response was immediate. “Tomorrow. And money is no object.”

As Victor stood to leave, Marcus felt a flicker of hope for the first time in weeks. Maybe, just maybe, this was his way out.

But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was stepping into something far more dangerous than he realized.