Chapter 3

Marianne had seen this type of behavior before—in many of her patients. They would become obsessed with their partner due to past trauma, and if they didn’t get the correct therapy, the relationship would ultimately fall apart.

After Marianne had asked the questions, both got quiet, and then Vivienne demanded that Dylan answer her—but he didn’t say anything. Marianne reassured Vivienne that it was okay for him to hesitate because he would want to spare her feelings if it were something serious, but she continued to flip out.

It was not her first time dealing with people like Vivienne. She was someone who had little regard for others but made her partner a huge priority. She was extremely jealous and obsessive, and it seemed that when she saw Marianne, she became defensive. It took Marianne only a minute to determine that Vivienne would be extremely difficult to deal with.

Since the session seemed to take a turn, Marianne tried her best to ask other questions and de-escalate the situation, but Vivienne was too far gone. She decided it was best to end it. They were supposed to come in three times a week for an hour, but since it was the first session, she would be lenient. Once she suggested that it would be best if they tried to talk it out at home, Dylan basically bolted from the room with Vivienne hot on his tail.

Once alone, Marianne sighed, sliding down the couch. They were her last appointment of the day, so she lay back, mentally drained from the past half hour.

"Well, I chose this profession, so I can’t get mad about that. Besides, I’ve dealt with people way worse than Vivienne, so it should be fine."

In the past, she had a patient who was extremely destructive, so she had to hold sessions in a room where nothing could harm the patient or herself. Aside from couple therapy, she also did individual sessions. Although she was most known for couples, it was important she could conduct individual therapy, so if a partner needed it, both could benefit.

"She definitely needs individual therapy," Marianne muttered to herself.

But she was unsure if she could get Vivienne to agree. It wasn’t obvious that Vivienne disliked her, but she could also recommend another therapist, preferably male, to minimize contact.

It was clear that Vivienne carried most of the problems in the relationship, if not the primary source of them. Dylan seemed to just want to get through it, but his fiancée was making it impossible. The relationship was far from healthy, and Marianne suspected that if they married, it would be short-lived. Dylan would eventually get fed up and leave. She was surprised it hadn’t already happened.

Vivienne Cross was notorious for being controlling and suffocating in relationships. All her exes would describe her the same way. Marianne wondered why Dylan had chosen her—did he think he could change her? Be the “different” one? Perhaps he had been blind at first, but now, fully aware of her tendencies, he stayed out of fear of what she might do.

Marianne let out a deep sigh as she turned onto her stomach and reached for her phone on the coffee table. At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and both receptionists came in.

"They left in such a hurry, and that banshee was screaming the entire time. What happened?" May asked, walking up with eager faces.

"A lot," Marianne said, sitting up.

"Do you think they’ll last?"

"I’m not supposed to tell you guys anything about my couples," she reminded them.

"Yeah, but the internet is blowing up. All it took was half an hour, and people are coming up with crazy theories about why they were here."

Emily, the other receptionist, handed her phone. Marianne glanced at Twitter. There were photos of them driving into the parking lot and walking toward the doors. Tweets claimed the relationship was falling apart, that Dylan was being worn down by Vivienne’s antics, or that he was forced to propose, and this was his cry for help.

"Everyone says they’re going to break up, and that Vivienne’s toxicity is holding Dylan back," Emily said.

"Yeah, and they’re saying this will be the one relationship she can’t save."

"There are even bets on how long it will take them to split. I think they’ll get to marriage, then collapse, with Vivienne going full psycho ex-wife," Emily added.

"Can you two gossip elsewhere? I get it. Now go," Marianne snapped.

May and Emily pouted but left. After a few minutes of silence, Marianne collected herself. Aside from the famous couple, she was dealing with two more: a married couple of twenty years whose relationship had grown boring and a university couple with an accidental child—the father uninterested, the mother trying to make him stay. She didn’t ask how they afforded her services.

After gathering her things, she left the building, waving goodbye to her receptionists and security guards. They were reliable; when people got aggressive, the guards acted quickly.

Dumping her bag in the passenger seat, Marianne slid into the driver’s seat, taking a deep breath and rubbing her temples. Her white Audi A6 was her pride. She had bought it herself and would never forget the feeling of independence it gave her.

She half-wished she had refused Dylan and Vivienne. Something told her this would only get worse.

While driving home, her phone rang. She looked over and saw it was her mother—the ultimate gossip. She answered and put it on speaker.

"Hi, mom."

"It’s true, isn’t it?!" her mother shouted.

Marianne sighed. "Yes, mom."

"Oh my goodness. That must have been stressful."

"Well, we didn’t even finish the session, and according to the girls, Vivienne was shrieking like a banshee when they left."

"Oh, I knew that girl would be trouble. I bet fifty bucks they’ll break up before the wedding."

Marianne rolled her eyes. "Of course you did."

"But aside from that, how are you? Surviving the big life?"

"I’m not living the big life, and yes, I am surviving."

"Oh please, girl, you were interviewed by Vogue." Another voice chimed in.

"Hi, Jewel," she greeted amusedly.

Jewel was her mother’s neighbor and closer to her age. They often chatted and gossiped for hours.

Approaching her apartment, Marianne whined at the sight of paparazzi. That was why she lived in an apartment—they couldn’t reach her floor. Previously, they blocked her gates when she had a house, but now they always found a way to harass her.

"Alright, mom, we’ll talk later. I have to deal with the paparazzi," she said.

As soon as her car was spotted, they rushed forward, reckless and relentless.

"And she claims she isn’t living big," Jewel remarked.

"Yeah, yeah." Marianne shook her head and hung up.

Once parked, the paparazzi swarmed. Cameras flashed painfully in her eyes.

"Let me pass, dammit!" she demanded.

"What do you think about the relationship between Vivienne Cross and Dylan Carter?!"

"Everyone online says they’ll break up! Do you agree?!"

"They already broke up because of it?!"

"In your expert opinion, do they stand a chance?"

Marianne paused. "In my expert opinion… I think you should mind your freaking business," she sneered at them.