The Therapist

Marcus Oladipo’s office had never felt so claustrophobic. The room seemed to vibrate with tension as Baba Jide sat across from Victor, their glares locked in a silent battle of wills. Claire sat off to the side, her demeanor calm but her mind calculating the next move. The folder in her lap—the one containing the damning proof of Victor’s financial betrayals—felt like both a weapon and a shield.

Marcus stood awkwardly near his desk, sweat pooling at the back of his neck. He wasn’t a fighter, but even he could feel the confrontation brewing. His office was no longer a space for healing—it was a battleground.

“You’ve got a lot to answer for, Victor,” Baba Jide began, his voice smooth but menacing.

Victor’s lips twisted into a smirk, though his eyes burned with fury. “I owe you nothing, Jide. I’ve been generous with you, far more than you deserve.”

Claire cleared her throat, drawing both men’s attention. “That’s not true, Victor, and we all know it.”

Victor’s gaze snapped to her, his expression darkening. “Careful, Claire.”

But Claire wasn’t backing down. She opened the folder, pulling out a series of documents and spreading them across Marcus’s desk. “These are the bank statements,” she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through her veins. “Offshore accounts, shell companies—everything you’ve been using to siphon money from your deals with Baba Jide.”

Baba Jide leaned forward, his interest piqued. He picked up one of the documents, his eyes scanning the numbers and transactions. Slowly, a smile spread across his face.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “It seems your wife has been quite resourceful, Victor.”

Victor’s smirk vanished, replaced by a cold fury. “You think this changes anything?”

“It changes everything,” Claire shot back, standing now. “You’ve lied to him, stolen from him. Baba Jide doesn’t tolerate betrayal.”

Baba Jide chuckled, setting the paper down. “She’s right, Victor. I don’t.”

Victor’s jaw tightened, but he quickly regained his composure. “This proves nothing. These documents could have been fabricated.”

“They weren’t,” Claire said sharply. “I had them verified.”

Marcus watched the exchange, his stomach churning. This wasn’t a game he wanted to be part of, but here he was, trapped between a mob boss, a ruthless businessman, and a woman determined to burn it all down.

Victor straightened, his gaze hard as steel. “Do you think I’m going to let you get away with this, Claire? Betraying me? Siding with him?”

“You don’t have a choice,” she replied coolly.

The tension was broken by the sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway outside. Marcus’s heart sank. He knew that sound—Victor’s security team.

Moments later, the door opened, and two of Victor’s men stepped inside, their presence as imposing as the weapons holstered at their sides.

“Victor,” one of them said, his tone respectful but firm. “We’re ready if you are.”

Baba Jide’s laughter filled the room, a low, menacing sound. “You think you’re going to scare me with a couple of hired guns?” He gestured toward the hallway. “My men are right outside, and unlike yours, they’re not afraid to die.”

Victor’s smirk returned. “Neither are mine.”

Marcus’s voice trembled as he stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. “Gentlemen, this doesn’t have to escalate—”

“Shut up, Marcus,” Victor and Baba Jide said in unison, their voices sharp enough to cut.

Claire’s gaze darted between the two men. She had expected this to be tense, but she hadn’t anticipated a full-blown standoff.

Victor stepped closer to Baba Jide, his voice low and dangerous. “If you think you can walk in here and dictate terms to me, you’re mistaken.”

Baba Jide didn’t flinch. “And if you think you can walk out of here without answering for this betrayal, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as the two men stared each other down.

And then it happened.

The first shot wasn’t fired inside the office but outside, in the hallway. The sharp crack of gunfire was followed by shouts and the sound of footsteps rushing toward the room.

Victor’s men drew their weapons, while Baba Jide’s enforcers pushed through the door, guns raised. Marcus dove behind his desk, pulling Claire down with him as chaos erupted.

Gunfire echoed through the small office, shattering windows and sending papers flying. Marcus covered his head, his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of the chaos.

“Stay down!” he hissed at Claire, who was clutching the folder to her chest like a lifeline.

Victor ducked behind a chair, firing a shot at one of Baba Jide’s men. “You should’ve stayed out of this, Baba Jide!” he shouted over the noise.

Baba Jide laughed, his voice cutting through the chaos. “And miss the fun? Never!”

Marcus peeked out from behind the desk, his mind racing. He had to get Claire out of here—now.

“Claire,” he whispered urgently. “We have to move.”

She nodded, her face pale but determined.

As the gunfire continued, Marcus spotted an opening—a brief moment when both sides were reloading.

“Go!” he shouted, pulling Claire toward the side door.

They stumbled into the hallway, the sounds of the battle fading slightly as they put distance between themselves and the office.

“Where are we going?” Claire asked, her voice trembling.

“Anywhere but here,” Marcus replied, his grip on her arm firm.

They burst through the emergency exit, stepping into the cool night air. Marcus glanced around, his chest heaving.

“We need to disappear,” he said, his voice grim. “Victor and Jide won’t stop until they find us.”

Claire nodded, clutching the folder tightly. “Then we keep running.”

As they slipped into the shadows, Marcus couldn’t help but feel the weight of the choice he had just made. He had thrown himself into the fire to save Claire, but at what cost?

The showdown wasn’t over. It had only just begun.