My Celebrity Therapist's Cruel Deception

and naked with our housekeeper. He called it "somatic therapy." I wa

fall and a miscarriage, fra

bleeding on the floor, my husband scoffed, "Don't

facility, publicly painting me as delusion

had gotten rid

d break me out. He didn't know I

ut to teach the good docto

pte

on was already gone, a note on his pillow saying "urgent patient." It was always an urgent patient, always a cris

ed a tune, picturing his surprised face, his rare, genuine smile. I dressed in the silk dress he once said

art dwindled, replaced by a dull throb. I called his clinic, but his assistan

ty therapist, was a master of it. He believed in healing trauma through b

rite artisanal tea, and drove to his private clinic. The clinic was quiet, the waiting room empty. I walked down th

. The smile froze. My breath hitched. The thermos slipped from my tremblin

pilfering expensive trinkets. She was straddling him, her head thrown back, her hair a wild mess against the pristine cushions. Her skin, usually pale, wa

through the silence, confirming the intimacy I was witnessing.

ck with fake vulnerability, "You saved me. Aga

n't quite hear, but the tenderness in his tone was a knife twisting in my hea

e. Carmen shrieked, scrambling off Carlton, trying to cover herself with a throw pillow. Carlton,

ined whisper, laced with disbe

ly man, reeking of stale beer and desperation, stormed in. Bud Moody. Car

ldn't touch my wife again!" He lunged at Carlton, a wild punch connecting w

lton, wailed, "Bud, stop! He wa

police officers, sirens wailing faintly from outside. The scen

Are you alright, Carmen?" He then turned to the police, his face a mask of calm authority. "Officers, this is a misunderstanding. My patient, Ms. Hodges, was un

icers looked genuinely confused. They looked from Carmen, still trembling

streaming down her face. "He... he was helpin

ickly returned to Carmen, reassuring her with a gentle nod. He was protecting her. Her repu

ecided it wasn't a domestic dispute in the traditional sense, but a bizarre "therapy

u shouldn't have come here. This is highly unprofessiona

aste in my mouth. "Unprofessional? You wer

air. "It's not what you think. It's a complex, experimen

f-serving delusion. He looked away, then back to Carmen, who was now being helped by ano

all of indifference. I watched him go, my chest tight. The man I had loved for a decade

e a tomb. I walked into our bedroom, the room where we had shared so many intimate moments, where we had built a life, or

used to getting what I wanted, but he was the one who resisted. He rejected my advances, claiming he was too focused on his career, too dam

obsessed. My family worried. But I was convinced I was the one for him. And eventually, after years, he relented. He said

succeeded. I thought I had earned his love, his respect. But today, I saw the truth. He never loved me

ed. He walked past me in the living room, heading straight for the kitchen. "Ar

shattered. "Carlton, what abou

d you. Somatic therapy. She's a very fragile

ad a choice, Carlton! You could have referred her elsewhere

understand the complexities of treating such severe trauma." He used his "therapist voice," calm

he would never admit to what he had done. He would twist it, rati

"You seem agitated, Alexis. Perhaps you need t

pain into a delusion. But he didn't know everything. He didn't know I wa

ir. No. I wouldn't be medicated, wouldn't be dismissed. I ha

but firm. "I don't need a sedative. I nee

t mask firmly in place. My mind raced, forming a plan. A desperate, dange