The Therapist

Marcus Oladipo sat behind his desk in his modest office, staring at the blank notepad in front of him. The elegant simplicity of the space—a soft beige couch for clients, calming blue curtains, and a neatly arranged bookshelf—once felt like a testament to his professionalism. Now, it felt like a stage, where he had to perform miracles not for his clients, but for his own survival.

The Adebayo case was his last shot, his lifeline.

Victor Adebayo’s call a few days before had been unexpected, but Marcus quickly recognized the opportunity. This wasn’t just another couple in crisis; this was a wealthy, high-profile duo with resources that could solve his problem. If he played his cards right, he could secure enough money to settle his debt with Baba Jide and maybe even reclaim some semblance of peace.

He flipped open the notepad and began jotting down ideas. His first session with the Adebayos was scheduled for the next day, and he needed a plan. Claire’s motives were clear from Victor’s brief description—her detachment, her potential desire to leave—but what about Victor? The man seemed driven by control, by the need to preserve his image. Marcus knew he could use those insecurities to his advantage.

The door to his office creaked open, breaking his concentration. Ada, his receptionist, appeared with a worried expression.

“Dr. Oladipo, there are… people here to see you,” she said hesitantly, her voice low.

Marcus frowned. “People?”

“They’re not clients,” she said, her tone making it clear who they were.

A chill ran down Marcus’s spine. Baba Jide’s men.

Two men entered the office without waiting for an invitation. They were broad-shouldered, dressed in unassuming but sturdy clothes, and carried the kind of presence that immediately made the air feel heavier. One of them, tall and bald, leaned against the wall while the other, with a scar running across his jaw, stepped closer to Marcus’s desk.

“Doctor,” Scarface said, his voice deceptively calm. “Baba Jide sends his regards.”

Marcus swallowed hard, forcing himself to maintain composure. “I already told him—I’m working on it.”

“That’s what you said last week,” the bald man interjected, his tone colder. “And the week before that. Oga is tired of excuses.”

Scarface pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the desk. Marcus hesitated before opening it. Inside was a photo of his sister, Lola, walking her son to school.

“She looks like a nice lady,” Scarface said, his voice almost casual. “It would be a shame if something happened to her.”

Marcus’s chest tightened. The picture wasn’t a threat—it was a promise. He knew Baba Jide’s reputation too well.

“Seven days,” Scarface continued, leaning closer. “That’s how long you’ve got to pay what you owe. No extensions, no excuses. And if you’re thinking of running…” He paused, his smile turning predatory. “We’ll find you. And your family.”

The men left as abruptly as they had come, leaving Marcus gripping the edges of his desk, his knuckles white.

That night, Marcus sat in his dimly lit apartment, nursing a glass of cheap whisky. The photo of his sister lay on the table before him, a stark reminder of how high the stakes had become. He couldn’t let Baba Jide hurt her or her child.

His mind raced with possibilities. He needed the Adebayos to pay, and pay big. The usual therapy fees wouldn’t cut it—not with ₦75 million hanging over his head. He needed to exploit their vulnerabilities, make them see his services as indispensable.

Victor was his first target. A man like Victor, driven by ego and the fear of losing control, could be manipulated. Marcus would position himself as the only person capable of saving Victor’s marriage and, by extension, his reputation. He would use Victor’s need for dominance as leverage, subtly inflating the perceived value of his services.

Then there was Claire. She would be trickier. From what little he knew, she was already halfway out the door. Her detachment suggested she was less invested in reconciliation and more interested in escape. But if she saw Marcus as an ally—someone who could help her secure the divorce settlement—she might be willing to pay him handsomely for his cooperation.

The key would be playing both sides without getting caught.

Marcus reached for his notebook again, this time scribbling down potential angles for their sessions. He would need to appear neutral, empathetic, and trustworthy, even as he subtly steered them toward decisions that served his own interests.

The next morning, Marcus arrived at his office early to prepare for the session. He adjusted the couch cushions, made sure the lighting was just right, and set out a tray of bottled water. The space needed to feel professional, inviting—like a sanctuary where the Adebayos could bare their souls.

At precisely 10:00 a.m., Victor and Claire arrived. Victor strode in first, his demeanor commanding as he scanned the room. Claire followed a step behind, her face a mask of polite indifference.

“Dr. Oladipo,” Victor said, extending a hand. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”

Marcus shook his hand firmly. “It’s my pleasure, Chief Adebayo. Please, have a seat.”

Victor took the couch nearest the window, while Claire sat at the opposite end, putting as much distance between them as possible. Marcus noted the subtle tension in her posture, the way her hands rested too rigidly in her lap.

He settled into his chair, picking up his notepad. “Before we begin, I’d like to get a sense of what brings you both here. Chief Adebayo, perhaps you can start?”

Victor cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on Marcus. “Our marriage has… faced some challenges recently. Communication has broken down, and I feel like we’re drifting apart. I want to fix that.”

Marcus nodded thoughtfully. “And you, Mrs. Adebayo? How do you feel about this?”

Claire hesitated, her eyes flickering toward Victor before meeting Marcus’s. “I agree that there’s been a… disconnect. But I’m not sure it’s something that can be fixed.”

Victor’s jaw tightened at her words, but he said nothing.

Marcus leaned forward slightly, his expression calm and measured. “It’s not uncommon for couples to feel this way. My role is to help you both understand each other’s perspectives and work toward a solution that feels right for both of you.”

The session continued, with Victor dominating most of the conversation while Claire offered clipped, cautious responses. Marcus took careful notes, cataloging every detail he could use later. By the end of the hour, he had a clearer picture of the battlefield he was stepping into—and the tools he could use to navigate it.

As the Adebayos left, Victor stopped at the door. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll make sure your fees are handled promptly.”

Marcus forced a smile. “I appreciate that, Chief.”

As the door closed behind them, Marcus let out a slow breath. The game had begun, and he was determined to win—because losing wasn’t an option.