Chapter 3 The Therapist Knows

# Chapter 3

## The Therapist Knows

Dr. Felicity Cross's office had always felt like a sanctuary to Piper—the soft lighting, the muted blues and grays, the gentle burble of the small fountain in the corner. Today, however, even these carefully curated comforts couldn't ease the tension coiling inside her as she settled into the familiar leather chair.

"You seem distracted today," Dr. Felicity observed, her keen eyes taking in Piper's fidgeting hands and tense posture. At forty-five, the therapist had the sort of calm presence that typically anchored Piper during their sessions. Today, that anchor felt insufficient against the storm of betrayal.

"I've been thinking about Julian," Piper began, watching Dr. Felicity's face carefully. "About our relationship."

"Oh?" Dr. Felicity's pen hovered above her notepad. "Has something changed since we last spoke?"

Everything, Piper thought. But she needed to be strategic. "I've started noticing things. Patterns. The way he seems to know exactly what I need before I know it myself."

"That can be a sign of attunement in a relationship," Dr. Felicity offered. "Many people appreciate partners who are observant."

"It's more than observation," Piper countered, leaning forward. "He knew my favorite poet was Rilke before I ever mentioned it. He brought me coffee with exactly one and a half sugars the first morning he stayed over. He even referenced a nightmare I had when I was twelve—about drowning in an empty room—when we were discussing fears."

Dr. Felicity's pen had stopped moving. Something flickered behind her professional mask—a momentary hesitation that Piper might have missed if she hadn't been looking for it.

"Perhaps you mentioned these things and forgot?" the therapist suggested, but her voice lacked conviction.

"No." Piper shook her head firmly. "And it's not just knowing things. It's how he responds to my emotional needs. When I was upset about my thesis advisor's criticism, he quoted the exact words that would comfort me. When I told him about my childhood insecurities, he had the perfect story about overcoming similar feelings."

Dr. Felicity shifted in her seat, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. "Some people are naturally empathetic—"

"Or some people study their targets," Piper interrupted. She took a deep breath. "What bothers me most is how he seems to know exactly how my past breakups went. Last week, I mentioned my ex Thomas and how he used to criticize my cooking. Julian immediately said, 'He was wrong to make you feel inadequate about something you enjoy.' Those were almost the exact words you said to me in therapy three years ago."

The pen in Dr. Felicity's hand trembled slightly. Piper noticed but continued.

"And when we argue—which is rare—he always knows exactly when to back off, when to apologize, when to give me space. It's like..." Piper hesitated, then plunged ahead. "It's like he's reading from a script of my life."

"What are you suggesting, Piper?" Dr. Felicity's voice had cooled several degrees.

"I'm suggesting that when someone seems too perfect—when they mirror your desires and fears with uncanny precision—maybe they're not connecting with you. Maybe they're reading you."

Dr. Felicity placed her notepad on the side table, a departure from her usual practice. "Piper, I sense there's something specific driving these concerns. Has something happened?"

Piper considered her options. Direct confrontation felt premature; she needed more information.

"I found evidence that Julian is involved with someone else," she said carefully. "Someone close to me."

"I see." Dr. Felicity's professional demeanor remained intact, but her fingers tightened around the arm of her chair. "That must be very painful."

"What's painful is feeling manipulated," Piper replied. "Like I'm part of some experiment in human behavior."

Dr. Felicity was quiet for a long moment, her eyes fixed on a point just over Piper's shoulder. When she finally spoke, her voice had taken on a different quality—less therapeutic, more personal.

"Manipulation can take many forms in relationships," she said. "Some are obvious—lying, gaslighting. Others are more insidious. More... sophisticated."

"Like what?"

"Like studying someone's psychological profile to create the perfect emotional response," Dr. Felicity said. "Like becoming whatever the other person needs most."

Piper felt a chill run through her. "You're speaking from experience."

It wasn't a question, but Dr. Felicity nodded slightly, a breach of professional boundaries that told Piper she was on the right track.

"Would you be willing to hear about a case study?" Dr. Felicity asked, her voice steady despite the unusual nature of the request. "It might be relevant to your situation."

"I'd like that very much."

Dr. Felicity rose and moved to the window, keeping her back to Piper as she spoke. "Several years ago, I encountered a patient—a lawyer with an exceptional understanding of human psychology. He was brilliant, charming, and deeply damaged in ways that weren't immediately apparent."

"Damaged how?" Piper prompted when Dr. Felicity fell silent.

"He had what some might call a pathological need to be admired—not just liked, but seen as extraordinary. He would study people, identifying their vulnerabilities, their unmet needs. Then he would become the perfect solution to those needs." Dr. Felicity turned back to face Piper. "He was particularly drawn to women with strong psychological boundaries—the challenge, I think. He saw breaking through those boundaries as a personal victory."

Piper's mouth had gone dry. "What happened to these women?"

"They fell in love with a man who didn't exist," Dr. Felicity said simply. "A carefully constructed persona designed to bypass their defenses. When the real person eventually emerged—as he always did—the psychological damage was... significant."

"And this lawyer," Piper said, her heart pounding, "what was his name?"

Dr. Felicity held her gaze for three endless seconds before answering: "Julian Hart."

The air seemed to leave the room. Hart, not Bennett—but the parallel was unmistakable.

"That's not my Julian's name," Piper said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No," Dr. Felicity agreed. "It's not."

The implication hung between them, neither woman willing to state outright what they both now suspected.

"Dr. Felicity," Piper began carefully, "how did you come to know so much about this man's techniques? Was he your patient?"

A flash of vulnerability crossed the therapist's face. "No. He was my colleague. And briefly, much to my professional shame, more than that."

The confession landed like a stone in still water, ripples of realization expanding outward. Dr. Felicity—composed, ethical, boundary-conscious Dr. Felicity—had fallen victim to the same type of manipulation Piper was experiencing.

"He used what he learned about me to improve his approach with others," Dr. Felicity continued, returning to her seat. "It was never about connection for him. It was about perfecting his method."

"And you think Julian—my Julian—is using the same playbook?"

"I think," Dr. Felicity said carefully, "that you should trust your instincts. The details you've described go beyond normal attentiveness."

Piper nodded slowly, processing this new perspective. "So what do I do?"

"That depends on what you want," Dr. Felicity replied. "If you want confirmation of your suspicions, you'll need more than intuition. If you want to protect yourself..."

"I want the truth," Piper said firmly. "And then I want him to never do this to anyone else."

Something like approval flickered in Dr. Felicity's eyes. "Then you'll need to be very careful. Men like this—they don't respond well to direct confrontation. They—"

The sharp buzz of Piper's phone interrupted whatever warning Dr. Felicity had been about to deliver. Apologizing, Piper glanced at the screen and felt her blood freeze.

A text from Julian: *I can't come tonight. I'm dealing with a patient who just said she wants to kiss me.*

Piper stared at the message, confusion giving way to horrified understanding as she looked up at Dr. Felicity. The therapist's face had drained of color, her professional composure cracking to reveal raw distress beneath.

"He sent this to me just now," Piper said, turning the phone so Dr. Felicity could see the screen. "But he's not a therapist. He doesn't have patients."

Dr. Felicity's hands trembled as she reached for the reading glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. She read the message, then closed her eyes briefly as if in pain.

"Piper," she said, her voice steady despite her obvious distress, "there's something I need to tell you. Something that violates every ethical boundary of my profession, but I believe the circumstances warrant it."

"You've met Julian," Piper said, the pieces falling into place. "Recently. Not just professionally."

"Yes." Dr. Felicity removed her glasses, meeting Piper's eyes directly. "He approached me six weeks ago after a conference on trauma psychology. He was charming, intellectually stimulating—everything you described. He claimed to be researching a book on therapeutic relationships."

"And you believed him."

"I wanted to," Dr. Felicity admitted. "He made me feel seen in a way I hadn't in years. We met for coffee several times to discuss psychological theory. Today was our fourth meeting."

"And you told him you wanted to kiss him," Piper finished, the betrayal cutting deeper than she'd thought possible.

"No," Dr. Felicity said firmly. "I told him I couldn't see him anymore—that I had ethical concerns about our interactions, especially given that I'm treating someone he's involved with. I never said anything about kissing him."

Piper's mind raced. "So he's lying. Creating drama between us."

"Or testing how much I've told you," Dr. Felicity suggested. "Seeing if I've broken confidentiality."

"Which you just did," Piper pointed out.

Dr. Felicity nodded, accepting the criticism. "Yes. And I will face whatever professional consequences come from that decision. But I couldn't let you continue in this relationship without knowing the full scope of his manipulation."

Piper leaned back in her chair, suddenly exhausted. "So he's involved with my mother and making advances toward my therapist—all while claiming I'm his soulmate."

"It appears so."

"Why? What could he possibly gain from this tangled web?"

Dr. Felicity considered the question carefully before responding. "Control. Power. The thrill of orchestrating emotional chaos while remaining untouched himself. For some people, that's more intoxicating than any drug."

Piper thought of Julian's gentle hands, his passionate declarations, the way he looked at her as if she were the answer to a question he'd been asking his entire life. Had any of it been real? Or was she simply a character in his elaborate psychological drama?

"What happens now?" she asked, her voice small.

"That," Dr. Felicity said, "is entirely up to you. But whatever you decide, you don't have to face it alone."

As Piper gathered her things to leave, a new resolve hardened within her. Julian had systematically targeted the women in her life—her mother, her therapist, herself—creating a twisted triangle of manipulation and lies. He had studied her, mirrored her, made her believe in a connection that existed only in her mind.

But Julian had made one critical mistake: he had underestimated Piper. He thought he was the only one who could read people, who could anticipate their responses and manipulate their emotions. He thought she would crumble when faced with his betrayal.

He was wrong.

As she left Dr. Felicity's office, Piper's phone buzzed again with another text from Julian:

*Thinking of you. Can't wait to see you tomorrow. You've changed everything for me.*

Piper stared at the screen, her expression hardening into something Julian wouldn't recognize—something beyond the emotional responses he had so carefully catalogued and exploited.

"Game on," she whispered to herself, typing a cheerful, unsuspecting reply as the first move in what was about to become her own psychological operation.