Chapter 3: You know who I am

“My job is call out my patient’s bluff, and make them understand their fears.”

For a brief moment, something unreadable passes through his eyes. Then he leans forward.

The movement is sudden enough to catch me off guard.

Before I can react, his hand shoots out and wraps around my wrist. His grip is firm. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” I yelp, trying to pull my wrist out of his hold. But he continues to grip so hard, I can feel the burn. 

Fear rises in my chest, as I think. Did he notice? Did he realise that the fragrance in the room was poison given to me by his wife?

This man is a mafia boss. 

Jude’s face darkens, the faint amusement from earlier disappearing completely. I can tell the emotions a person feels, quite easily. 

And it’s obvious he’s angry. 

He leans closer, his eyes locking onto mine with a cold intensity that sends a chill down my spine. He asks with a sneer. 

“How dare you?”

I struggle to release my wrist from his hold, my fingers twitching against his grip. 

Just when the pressure begins to sting, he lets go, as though he had never intended to hurt me in the first place.

He leans back into his chair like nothing had happened, and just watching me. 

“How dare I what?” I screech.

“That was to show you.” He says, suddenly calm. The shift is so abrupt that it leaves me more unsettled than his anger did.

“Show me what?”

Was Jude also bipolar? His file had stated he had anger issues, but I hadn’t said anything to provoke him.

“To show you that I’m not bluffing.” He tilts his head slightly, studying me. “If the lanky security guard downstairs held your wrist and glared at you, would you panic the way you did just now?”

My mind tries to grasp the sudden question. If Jeremiah, the buildings security guard suddenly flipped mid conversation, I wouldn’t have been as alarmed.

Jude must see the answer on my face, because he continues.

“But when I did it, you looked like I wanted to harm you.” His gaze sharpens. “Meaning you know who I am.”

I steady myself, forcing my voice to remain even.

“Of course I know who you are. I have the basic information about all my patients.”

He lets out a quiet scoff.

“Doctor, don’t play dumb with me. I mean you know the kind of man I am. I am dangerous and dominant on top of a world of blood and violence.”

He pauses, watching me carefully, as though measuring every reaction.

“So when you say your job is to call out my bluff and confront my fears, you’re gravely mistaken. There’s nothing in this world that I fear.”

“You’re only human. All of us have fears,” I quip, though my voice lacks its usual confidence.

He shakes his head slowly, a smirk forming on his lips as he rises from his seat.

“Then maybe, I’m simply not human.”

And just like that, he leaves. The door shuts behind him, once again cutting the session short.

I stare at the empty space for a moment before letting out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding.

I reach for my phone, to call his wife and give her an update. When Brittany answers, she does not bother with greetings.

“How did it go?”

“He left again.” I say. “We barely got anywhere.”

She hums softly, as though that detail holds no importance.

“Did you spread the poison?”

My grip on the phone tightens slightly.

“Yes, I did.”

Even without seeing her, I can imagine the way she smiles with delight. 

“Perfect. You’ll continue the next session in our house tomorrow.”

................

Brittany had said I would come to their house for Jude’s therapy session. Well, she lied.

Because when I arrive at the address that was sent to me, I am not standing in front of a house.

The Martinez residence is an enormous mansion.

The gates alone are taller than anything I have ever stood beside, and beyond them stretches a property so vast that it feels detached from the rest of the city.

Workers move about with efficiency, each one focused on their task, maintaining the pristine state of the estate.

Perfection seems not to be an expectation, but a rule.

The gates open before I can ring the buzzer. I step and a woman approaches me. I recognise her immediately.

The Asian looking woman, is Brittany’s secretary. Her smile is the same as always. Her lips curved in a professional way, that’s polite yet detached from every form of emotion. 

“Dr. Cecilia.” She greets. “Please follow me.”

She hands me a small card as we walk.

“This is your identification. You’ll need it to access certain parts of the mansion.”

I take it, turning it slightly between my fingers as I nod.

The place is quiet despite the number of people moving around. Everything feels controlled, as if the Martinez couple themselves were making the servants move with a remote control. 

We ascend a set of pristine stairs. Our footsteps echoing faintly against the polished surface.

When we reach the next floor, I notice the difference in this upper floor.

The edges of the walls, the lining of the ceiling, even the handles on the doors, all are in a deep colour of silver that reflects the light in a subtle way.

We are halfway down the hall when a man steps into our path.

He is tall, with broad shoulders. 

His red hair stands out against the muted tones of the hallway, and there is something about the way he stands that makes it clear he is not just another worker in this house.

“Mr Roman.” The secretary greets.

He nods once, his attention shifting past her and settling on me.

“Who’s this?”

His voice is edged with something that feels like disapproval.

“She’s the boss’ therapist.” The secretary replies smoothly.

His gaze sharpens.

“The one Brittany hired?”

There is a certain weight to the way he says it. It’s laced with heavy disgust. 

But the secretary maintains her smile. “Yes.”

I take that as my cue to introduce myself. 

“I’m Dr. Cecilia Vale.” I say, stepping forward slightly as I extend my hand.

He does not take it. Instead, he turns his attention back to the secretary as though I had not spoken at all.

“I’ll take the therapist from here.”

The secretary hesitates. Her amiable smile slips briefly, but just enough for me to notice, before it returns. 

“Of course.” She nods. 

As she turns away, her eyes flicker toward me for a second longer than necessary. There is something in that look. It almost looks like she’s warning me with her eyes and saying, 

“Be careful.”

The thought lingers as she walks off. Careful of what?