All Chapters of Poison me softly : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

“I want you to kill him.”The woman, across from me, says.My eyes snap up to her face.“Excuse me?” Maybe I’d misheard her. We were just talking about her husband’s uncooperativeness in therapy sessions. How he was unwilling to share any information.The woman smirks, saying once again.“I want you to kill my husband.”There’s a cold look in her eyes. As a therapist, I’ve been trained to pick up emotional cues. One look at this woman and I can tell, that this is a command. Not an offer I can turn down.Or else, I might be the one to get killed..................A mafia boss being my newest client, was probably the biggest shock of my career.In my five year career as a therapist, I’d had my fair share of unusual cases. Clients who talked to the walls in their room, deeming it as their best friend. Clients who cried without making a sound, their tears falling endlessly while their lips remained sealed.Teenagers who came from broken homes and were forced to get used to their parent

“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 Jude said we’d have his session in his hotel, and seemed for the first time, cooperative, I was alarmed.But when he elaborated and said it would be in a hotel, which he owns, I was at ease.Just as expected, the Martinez hotel can rival the Buckingham Palace.“This is just a branch.” Peter, one of the many assistants, that’s part of Jude’s entourage tells me. “The headquarters is far more grand.”Trailing behind Jude as he strides across the halls of the hotel, puts two things into perspective for me.The first is the fact that Jude is highly respected, and even more prestigious than I’d fathomed. At every turn, guests who look like they were royalty, or at least related to them, clamoured to talk to him. The second is, our supposed therapy session will not be held today.He’d just made me follow him and his entourage as he visited the hotel brach, on inspection. I seethe angrily, watching his back at the front. Being an escort wasn’t part of my job description. But the amount

I grab the box fully and tip it slightly, as if the vial might have somehow slipped into a corner I cannot see.I shake it, but it does not appear.I set the box aside and begin searching through my bag, pulling everything out onto the bed.My notebook. My pen. My phone charger. My wallet. But it isn’t in it either. My breathing becomes uneven as I check again, this time more carefully, running my fingers through every corner, every small pocket.It is not there.I stop for a second, forcing myself to think.Where could it have gone?I replay everything in my head.Yesterday, I’d taken the antidote before spraying the poison around, for my session with Jude. Today, I came to the manor with it contained in the black box in my bag. I never brought it out. Not here. In the hotel, or in the car. The only time I had set my bag down, was during the security check to enter the manor, in the home office when Roman confronted me and.......when I left it in the car with Jude, to talk to Br

Before I’d been hired to kill Jude Martinez, I’d already killed a previous patient. It truly was an accident. But the police wouldn’t believe that, would they?The patient was a young man, in his early twenties, named Spencer Duncan. He had grown up in an abusive home. As a teen, he'd been passed back and forth between his divorced parents. During school times, he stayed with his mum. But for the summer, he stayed with his dad. At all times, he was in a place of horrific torment.When he turned eighteen, he ran away and began life on his own. However, the man battled with past trauma, and guilt of leaving his younger brother behind.He had sessions with me twice a week, and after each one, I always found myself tearing up.Spencer came to my office one fine day, with a bouquet of flowers in his arms. “Dr. Cecilia, these are for you.” He set them on my desk with a charming smile.“Oh wow! Thank you Spencer. What’s the occasion?”He grins at me. “I’ve finally gotten the guts to ask