The Therapist: Chapter 11

Marcus Oladipo sat in his office, staring blankly at the framed degrees on the wall. They felt like relics from a different life—one where he wasn’t caught between a ruthless mob boss and a dangerously powerful client. The walls of his office, once a refuge for troubled couples, now felt like a cage closing in on him.

His phone vibrated on the desk, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was a message from Baba Jide.

“Meet me. 9 PM. The Dockyard.”

Marcus swallowed hard, his throat dry. He had known this moment was coming, but now that it was here, it felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. He was about to make the most dangerous decision of his life.

The Dockyard was a desolate industrial area by the Lagos lagoon, a known hotspot for illicit deals and underground dealings. As Marcus parked his car under a flickering streetlamp, he saw Baba Jide’s black SUV idling nearby. Two of his men stood guard, their eyes tracking Marcus like hawks.

Taking a deep breath, Marcus stepped out of his car and approached. Baba Jide was leaning against the hood, a cigar in hand, exhaling thick plumes of smoke into the humid night air.

“Doctor,” Baba Jide greeted him, his smile sharp and predatory. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

Marcus forced a tense smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Baba Jide’s eyes darkened. “So? What do you have for me?”

Marcus cleared his throat, keeping his voice steady. “I have a proposition.”

The mob boss raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

Marcus exhaled slowly. “I know things about Victor Adebayo. Things that could ruin him. Offshore accounts, cartel connections—if you help me wipe my debt clean, I’ll deliver everything you need to bring him down.”

Silence stretched between them, and Marcus could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air. Baba Jide studied him for a long moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the car’s hood.

“And why should I trust you?” Baba Jide asked, his voice dangerously soft.

“Because I have access that no one else does,” Marcus replied. “Victor trusts me. Claire confides in me. I’m in the perfect position to feed you everything you need, slowly, without raising suspicion.”

Baba Jide chuckled darkly. “Smart man. But tell me, Doctor… what happens if you fail?”

Marcus’s mouth went dry. He knew the answer before Baba Jide even said it.

“You die,” Baba Jide finished, flicking his cigar to the ground and crushing it beneath his expensive shoe. “You sure you want to go down this road?”

Marcus hesitated, feeling the crushing weight of the decision pressing down on him. But he had no choice. “I don’t see another option.”

Baba Jide nodded slowly, a smile creeping onto his face. “Good. Then you’ll start feeding me intel immediately. I want bank accounts, transaction records, business partners—everything.”

Marcus nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. “Understood.”

Baba Jide’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. “And Marcus… if you try to double-cross me, you won’t see it coming.”

Driving home, Marcus gripped the steering wheel tightly, his thoughts racing. He had done it—he had sold out Victor in exchange for his own survival. But the weight of his actions settled heavily on his chest.

He was betraying Claire too. He could see the desperation in her eyes every time she spoke about leaving Victor. She was counting on him to help her escape, yet here he was, setting in motion a plan that could not only ruin Victor but entangle Claire in the fallout.

Marcus pulled into his driveway and sat in the car for a long time, staring at his trembling hands.

“Survival,” he whispered to himself. “It’s just survival.”

But deep down, he knew it was more than that. He was trapped in a web of lies of his own making, and with every move, the strands tightened around him.

The next morning, Marcus arrived at his office early, pouring over the documents Claire had left him about Victor’s financial dealings. Offshore shell companies, money funneling through obscure accounts, coded transactions—it was all there, and it was damning.

He pulled out a burner phone and typed a message to Baba Jide.

“Got something. Offshore accounts linked to shell corporations. More details coming soon.”

The reply came instantly.

“Good. Don’t disappoint me.”

Marcus leaned back, rubbing his tired eyes. He was now walking an even finer line. He had to keep Victor and Claire in the dark while feeding Baba Jide just enough to stay alive. One wrong step, and it wouldn’t be just his life on the line—it would be everyone around him.

His office phone rang, pulling him back into the moment. He picked up, forcing a smile into his voice. “Dr. Oladipo’s office. How can I help you?”

“Marcus,” Claire’s voice came through, tense and uncertain. “I need to see you. Now.”

Marcus’s pulse quickened. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” she said. “It’s Victor. I think he’s starting to suspect something.”

Marcus closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath. The pressure was mounting, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep everything from unraveling.

“Come in,” he said. “We’ll talk.”

As he hung up, Marcus felt the walls closing in even tighter. There was no turning back now.