The Therapist

Marcus Oladipo adjusted his tie in the reflection of his office window. He felt the tension creeping in his shoulders as he prepared for the next session with Victor and Claire Adebayo. These sessions were becoming increasingly volatile, with the couple's veiled hostility bubbling just beneath the surface. Still, the paycheck kept him showing up, even if he was beginning to wonder if it was worth the risk.

As he moved toward his desk, his gaze fell on a small, unobtrusive object nestled between his bookshelf and a decorative plant. It was faintly blinking—a tiny red light. He froze.

His mind raced as he leaned in for a closer look. It was a surveillance camera, expertly concealed but now glaringly obvious to him. Marcus felt his stomach drop. Who had put it there? Victor? Claire? Baba Jide?

His heart hammered in his chest as he scanned the room. He found two more cameras—one in the corner of the bookshelf and another near the air conditioning vent. Each was carefully positioned to capture every angle of the room.

Victor Adebayo leaned back in his luxurious home office, a glass of whisky in one hand and a tablet in the other. The live feed from Marcus’s office played before him, showing an increasingly nervous Marcus scanning his office for more devices. Victor’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

“You think you’re smart, Doctor,” Victor muttered to himself. “But you’re not smarter than me.”

Victor had begun to suspect Marcus of ulterior motives after Claire’s recent behavior. She had been more distant than ever, her subtle defiance growing bolder with each session. Victor wasn’t a man who ignored his instincts, and his instincts had screamed at him to keep a closer eye on the situation. The cameras had been installed discreetly during a “routine maintenance check” on the building's security systems—a favor from one of Victor’s many connections.

What he had seen so far was damning.

Later that evening, Marcus’s phone rang as he sat in his dimly lit apartment, his thoughts consumed by the discovery in his office. He didn’t recognize the number, but something told him to answer.

“Dr. Oladipo,” Victor’s voice greeted him, smooth and cold.

Marcus’s grip on the phone tightened. “Chief Adebayo. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I think we need to talk,” Victor said. “Not at your office. Come to my home. Now.”

The call ended before Marcus could respond.

Victor’s estate was as intimidating as the man himself. Massive wrought-iron gates opened to reveal a sprawling compound with immaculate landscaping and an air of quiet dominance. Marcus’s stomach churned as he was escorted into Victor’s study.

Victor sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his expression unreadable. A tablet rested in front of him, and Marcus immediately knew what it contained.

“You’ve been busy, Doctor,” Victor said, gesturing for Marcus to sit.

Marcus hesitated before lowering himself into the chair opposite Victor. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Victor’s smirk was humorless as he tapped the tablet, and a video began to play. Marcus watched in horror as footage of his private conversations with Claire appeared on the screen.

The most damning clip was of Claire leaning toward him after a session, her voice low and urgent as she said, “Help me get out of this marriage, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Marcus’s mouth went dry. “Chief Adebayo, I can explain—”

Victor cut him off with a raised hand. “Spare me your excuses, Doctor. You think I don’t know what’s happening under my own roof? My wife’s schemes, your little manipulations—I’ve seen enough.”

Marcus’s mind scrambled for a way out, but Victor wasn’t finished.

“Here’s how this will go,” Victor said, his voice steely. “You will stop whatever game you’re playing with Claire. From now on, you work for me—and only me. You will steer her back to this marriage, and you will do it convincingly. If you fail…”

He leaned forward, his gaze icy. “Let’s just say Baba Jide isn’t the only one who knows how to make people disappear.”

Back in his apartment, Marcus sat at his desk, his head in his hands. He had no choice but to comply with Victor’s demands—for now. But the encounter had only deepened his resolve to find a way out.

He opened his laptop and began piecing together what little leverage he had. Victor’s cartel ties, Baba Jide’s threats, Claire’s desperation—all were weapons he could use if he was careful. But the risk was monumental.

Marcus knew he was playing with fire, but the alternative was unthinkable. He couldn’t let Victor control him, and he certainly couldn’t let Baba Jide’s deadline pass without a solution.

“This isn’t over,” Marcus muttered to himself, his mind already formulating a counter-move.

For now, he would play the obedient therapist, feeding Victor the illusion of control. But beneath the surface, Marcus was determined to turn the tables.

He just had to survive long enough to do it.