Emma leaned forward slightly, elbows on knees.
"It's your age for marriage," she said gently. "Get married. Or at least start an affair. Something real. Something visible."
Sara nodded quick, earnest.
"Yes. When she sees you're going to be someone else's when she thinks you're taken, committed, off the market she might stop. Obsessions like hers… they thrive on possibility. On the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, you'll crack. Take that possibility away? She loses the fuel. She might lose interest. Or at least lose the energy to keep coming every day."
Rowan stared at them long, silent.
Then she shook her head small, almost automatic.
"No," she said quietly. "I'm not going to fake a relationship to escape a patient. That's not ethical. It's not me. And it won't work. She'll see through it. She'll see it as another game. She'll just push harder."
Sara reached over covered Rowan's clenched hands with her own.
"Ro," she said softly, "you're shaking. Every day she walks in here, you're shaking. You're crying in your own office. You're losing sleep. You're losing pieces of yourself. This isn't about ethics right now. This is about survival."
Emma nodded voice gentle but firm.
"You don't have to marry anyone tomorrow. Just… start something. Let people see you with someone. Let word get back to her. Through the grapevine, through the hospital gossip, through her brother if he's still sniffing around. Let her believe you're moving on. Let her believe she's lost."
Rowan looked down at their joined hands Sara's steady, Emma's trembling just a little.
"I can't," she whispered. "I can't just… use someone like that. Pretend. Lie."
Sara squeezed once.
"Then don't pretend," she said. "Find someone real. Someone kind. Someone who actually cares. You deserve that anyway. You've spent years saving everyone else. Let someone save you for once."
Rowan exhaled shaky, almost a laugh.
"There's no one," she said. "No one I trust. No one I even want to look at right now. Not after… her."
Emma tilted her head.
"What about Carlos?" she asked quietly. "Mrs. Delgado's nephew. The lawyer. The one who keeps asking about you. The one she's been pushing for months."
Rowan's eyes widened surprised, almost startled.
"Carlos?"
Sara nodded slowly.
"He's nice. Respectable. Normal. No drama. No billions. No threats. Just… a guy who thinks you're beautiful and wants to take you to dinner. If you said yes even once Mrs. Delgado would tell half the neighborhood by morning. Word travels. Fast. Especially to people who have ears everywhere. Like the Ravencrofts."
Rowan stared at the desk unseeing for a long moment.
Her throat worked.
"I told Mrs. Delgado I wasn't ready," she said quietly.
Sara's hand tightened.
"You just have to let Carlos take you out. Once. Let people see. Let Isadora hear. Let her think you're moving on. Let her think she's lost." she said softly.
Emma leaned closer.
"You don't have to love him," she said. "You don't even have to like him that much. Just… let him be the shield. Until she backs off. Until you can breathe again."
Rowan closed her eyes long, slow blink.
Tears gathered again silent, stubborn.
"I hate this," she whispered. "I hate that she's forced me into this corner. That I'm even considering it."
Sara's voice was gentle.
"We know. We'll make sure it's safe. We'll make sure she can't twist it."
Rowan opened her eyes glassy, but steady now.
"Maybe Carlos," she said barely audible.
Sara and Emma exhaled at the same time relief, worry, hope all tangled together.
Rowan looked between them.
"If I do this," she said quietly, "it's not surrender. It's strategy. It's survival. And the second she backs off the second she stops coming through that door I end it. I don't owe anyone a relationship. Not Carlos. Not her. Not anyone."
Emma nodded fierce.
"Exactly."
Sara squeezed her hand once more.
"Then text him," she said softly. "Or let Mrs. Delgado do it. One dinner. One photo. One rumor. That's all it might take."
Rowan stared at the empty patient chair where Isadora had sat minutes ago, smirking, daring, promising more.
She picked up her phone slow, trembling fingers.
Opened her contacts.
Found the number Mrs. Delgado had insisted on giving her months ago.
She stared at it.
Then slowly she typed one message.
'Hi Carlos. This is Rowan. Mrs. Delgado said you might want to grab coffee sometime. I'm free this weekend if you are.'
She hit send before she could overthink it.
The phone buzzed almost instantly.
A reply.
'Hey Rowan! I'd love that. Saturday? 11 a.m. at the little café on 7th?'
Rowan exhaled shaky, almost a sob.
She typed back.
'Saturday works. See you then.'
She set the phone down.
Looked at Sara and Emma eyes bright, but not with tears this time.
With something harder.
Determination.
"I'm not running," she said quietly. "I'm fighting. My way."
Sara smiled small, proud, worried.
"That's our girl."
Emma nodded.
"And when Isadora hears about it? When she sees you laughing with someone else? When she realizes you're not waiting for her anymore?"
Rowan's smile was small cold certain.
"She'll either back off," she said, "or she'll explode. Either way… I win."
The room went quiet.
The clock ticked toward the next patient.
And Rowan Blackwood terrified, furious, exhausted finally felt the first faint spark of power return.
Not because she'd won yet.
But because for the first time she'd chosen to fight back.
Even if the weapon was a cup of coffee and a man she barely knew.
Even if the cost was pretending just for a little while that her heart wasn't already tangled in something far more dangerous than a simple date.
Saturday was coming.
And so was Isadora's next session.
Rowan straightened her coat.
Picked up the next chart.
And waited.
Ready.
For whatever came next.
Noah Blackwood sprawled across his bed in the Brooklyn brownstone, hoodie hood up, phone screen glowing blue against his face in the dark room. It was past 11 p.m. way past lights-out but sleep wasn't happening. Not after overhearing Mom whisper to Clara about Rowan's "rough week at work" and not after seeing the way Ro had come home tonight looking like someone had punched her soul.
He scrolled aimlessly at first memes, basketball highlights, random thirst traps until the algorithm fed him something different.
A reel from @isadoraravencroft.
The verified account had 560 million followers more than some small countries had people. The video was simple: Isadora on a yacht deck at golden hour, black bikini top and high-waisted shorts, abs carved like they were sculpted, wind whipping dark hair across her face. She laughed low, reckless, magnetic then looked straight at the camera and winked.
Caption: "Too cool for school. Too good for rules. Catch me never looking back."
Noah's thumb froze mid-scroll.
He watched it again.
And again.
"Holy shit," he whispered to the empty room.
She was unreal. Confident. Untouchable. The kind of cool that made every other influencer look like they were trying too hard. The comments were a war zone half thirst, half hate, all obsessed.
Noah tapped the profile.
Post after post: private jets, rooftop parties in Paris, cocaine-white dresses at Met Gala after-parties, her smirking in boardrooms like she owned them (because she kind of did). Every photo screamed power. Every video screamed I don't care what you think.
He liked the yacht reel heart turning red under his thumb.
Then before he could overthink it he tapped Message.
His fingers hovered.
Then typed.
Noah:
i'm a big fan of urs ms dora
u r too cool for this world fr
He hit send.
Stared at the screen.
No read receipt yet.
He flopped back on the pillow heart racing stupidly fast for a DM to someone who'd never see it.
"She's so fucking charming," he muttered to the ceiling, grinning like an idiot. "Ro would lose her mind if she knew I was fanboying over a billionaire party girl."
He laughed soft, oblivious.
Didn't know the name "Dora" was short for Isadora.
Didn't know the girl whose posts made his pulse jump was the same one who'd left his big sister crying in her office.
Didn't know that every like, every view, every innocent DM fed the machine that was slowly breaking Rowan apart.
He just thought she was cool.
Too cool.
Too good.
Too charming.
He closed the app.
Rolled over.
And fell asleep smiling dreaming of yachts and winks and a world where girls like Isadora Ravencroft noticed boys like him.
While across the city, in a penthouse of glass and steel, Isadora stared at her phone.
A new DM notification glowed.
Noah Blackwood:
i'm a big fan of urs ms dora
u r too cool for this world fr
She froze.
Read the username again.
Blackwood.
As in Rowan Blackwood.
Her doctor.
Her obsession.
Her weakness.
Isadora's lips curved slow, dark, delighted.
She tapped the profile.
Fourteen-year-old boy. Brooklyn. Smiling in basketball jerseys. Bio: "hooper | little bro to the best doc ever."
She laughed low, dangerous.
"Oh," she whispered to the empty suite. "This is too perfect."
She didn't reply.
Not yet.
But she saved the message.
And somewhere deep inside the part of her that still felt pain, something twisted sharp, possessive, furious.
Rowan's little brother.
Fanboying over her.
While Rowan cried because of her.
Isadora set the phone down.
Smiled into the dark.
Tomorrow's session just got a lot more interesting.
Because now?
She had leverage.
And she knew exactly how to use it.
She sat cross-legged on the velvet sofa now, burner phone in hand, still in her charcoal trousers and black turtleneck from the session. Lexi sprawled beside her, head on Isadora's thigh, scrolling her own phone. Jade lounged on the floor against the sofa, back to them, legs stretched out, joint dangling from his lips.
Lexi suddenly sat up eyes wide, grin splitting her face.
"We've got DMs, Dora."
Isadora didn't look up from her screen at first.
"Not new," she muttered. "I get a thousand a day."
Lexi turned the phone toward her screen glowing.
"Not like this one."
Isadora finally glanced over.
The DM was open on Lexi's main account verified, public, 12 million followers.
Noah Blackwood:
can i get to talk to ms dora pls? i'm a big fan. she is too cool for this world fr
Isadora froze.
Jade twisted around joint paused mid-drag.
"Me too," he said, pulling out his own phone. "He DMed me an hour ago. Same message. 'Big fan of Ms. Dora. Too cool.' Kid's eager."
Isadora stared at the screen then at Lexi, then at Jade.
"He's getting eager," she said slowly. "DMing my friends too."
The room went quiet for a beat.
Then the three of them burst out laughing low, dark, delighted.
Lexi collapsed back onto Isadora's lap, cackling.
"Oh my god," she gasped. "Rowan's baby brother is simping for you. Hard. He doesn't even know you're the one making his sister cry in her office."
Jade wiped his eyes still chuckling.
"Kid's got taste," he said. "560 million followers and he picks you. Ballsy. Or clueless."
Isadora's laughter faded first replaced by something sharper, more calculating.
She opened the DM thread on her own burner same message waiting there too.
Noah Blackwood:
i'm a big fan of urs ms dora
u r too cool for this world fr
She stared at it thumb hovering over the reply button.
"What should I do?" she asked voice quiet now, almost thoughtful. "Text him back or not?"