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"Then, why don't we go to my apartment? It's not far from here, it should make you more comfortable talking about private things, right?" Shailene offered.

Vernon paused for a few seconds. He stared at Shailene, wanting to grasp the intention behind her invitation.

He was a man with plenty of experience, and when a woman invited him to her apartment, there was only one thing that would happen next.

But, Vernon refused to believe that Shailene wanted to have sex with him. Because she obviously hated him to the bone.

Shailene noticed the silence and alerted gaze coming from Vernon, and she scoffed, "Don't flatter yourself, Vernon. I have a private office in my apartment, that place is where I usually talk to my clients if she doesn't feel comfortable talking in a formal space, like in a regular office or clinic."

"Ah, okay then," Vernon said. He was relieved by Shailene's answer. After all, he had encountered many women who wanted to have sex with him without consent, either by spiking his drink or other methods.

'She seems to be the right person for this. Since she can maintain her professionality,' Vernon thought.

**

Vernon and Shailene finally left the restaurant after they finished their dinner. It was still seven-thirty in the evening, and Vernon drove through the street, heading to Shailene's apartment as he listened to her order as a guide.

Vernon entered the basement to park his car and then followed Shailene as they entered the elevator to her floor.

The elevator stopped at floor 18, Shailene opened the door with a card, and they went through it.

"Do you plan to stay in New York permanently?" Vernon asked as he walked inside with Shailene.

"No, I'm going to return to London next year. I'm here for an important client that demands me to stay for extended time. She was a rich old woman with severe mental problems because of a cold marriage with her cheating husband," Shailene said.

Vernon wasn't all that surprised by it. After all, Shailene's job mostly covers that kind of psychological problem.

"And that woman stayed with her husband?" Vernon asked.

"Yes, up until his death about twelve years ago," Shailene replied. "She's a widow now, but she can't be happy because the trauma that her late husband inflicted was too much, and that affected her relationship with her sons," Shailene looked over her shoulder towards Vernon, and she had a mysterious smile. "She comes from an old money family in New York, and the family is extremely influential just so you know."

"Uh… okay?" Vernon didn't understand why Shailene had to tell him. He didn't give a crap about a rich old widow's problem. "Do I really need to know about this old woman's problem? Is it important for me and my problem?"

Shailene only gave a vague answer, "The identity of my clients is confidential, I can't tell you in detail and also can't tell you her name."

"Good, I also don't give a damn about a random old window's problem," Vernon said carelessly.

"Hahah, you never change, Vernon," Shailene chuckled out of amusement. "Still the same uncaring bastard who doesn't give a shit about anyone as long as you get what you want."

Vernon shrugged it off. It was the truth, and there was no need to deny it, especially in front of Shailene, who knew how scummy he was.

Shailene led Vernon to a room. She turned the light on and showed Vernon her office.

It was a simple room with a big window to stare at the view outside, a big bookshelf, a chaise longue for the patient to rest on, and a small chair for Shailene as the psychologist.

It reminded Vernon so much of a typical psychologist's office, and he didn't understand why Shailene said this private office of hers was better than a regular formal office.

Shailene seemed to understand what was in Vernon's mind. She chuckled and picked a remote.

She pressed a few buttons, and the AC started blowing gentle warm air and calming scents.

"Wait, is this—" Vernon sniffed their air a few times. "—Lavender and Chamomile?"

"Mhm, this private office has been modified with my request. I can control the relaxing scents blowing out of the AC. It also has a huge aquascape and a wide view to the city," Shailene explained as she pressed another button. The wall slowly slid open, showing an aquascape hidden under the wall. It was huge and stretched from one corner of the room to the other.

"Now, go lay there," Shailene pointed at the chaise lounge, and she walked to the desk to grab a note and pen.

She sat on the small couch directly facing the chaise lounge. She crossed her legs and glanced at Vernon, who stood still near the door.

She nudged her head towards the chaise lounge again, and Vernon finally walked in and lay awkwardly on the lazy couch.

He had never been in this kind of position before, and this would be the first time he had ever met a real psychologist.

He always thought a mental illness was a sissy thing, just like his Big brother said.

—

'As long as you have money and power as a man, then there is nothing to worry about. Those mentally sick people are because they're poor and useless, and that's why most of them are women,' Vincent said to Vernon, who was only nine years old.

—

Thus, the idea of going to a psychologist as a man-made him shudder. So he just bottled whatever negative things inside his head and unleashed it by fucking a random gurl, breaking things, or simply doing a reckless thing to let the steam off.

He thought that was the right way to appease the exploding anger in his heart, so he didn't need to be a sissy by coming to a psychologist or a psychiatrist.

Little did he know that he would be sitting in this chaise lounge with his ex as the psychologist, all for that woman.