Updated Oct 30, 2025 • ~11 min read
Monday morning, Samantha woke with purpose humming through her veins like electricity.
She’d spent Sunday with Riley, finally telling her everything. Riley had listened without interrupting, her expression shifting from concern to horror to cold fury as Samantha showed her the evidence—the photos, the timeline, the hotel receipts.
“Jesus Christ,” Riley had said when Samantha finished. “You’re going to destroy them.”
“Yes.”
“Good. They deserve it. What do you need from me?”
“Just be there. When this all goes down, I’m going to need someone who knows the truth.”
Now, sitting at her kitchen table while Jared slept in the guest room, Samantha pulled up the Oregon Board of Licensed Professional Counselors and Therapists website. She’d already researched the complaint process. Knew exactly how to file, what evidence to include, what language would trigger an investigation.
But before she filed formally, she was going to lay groundwork. Create a paper trail that showed she’d tried to address her concerns through proper channels first. Make it look like she was a worried consumer rather than a scorned wife seeking revenge.
She opened a new browser window and searched for Dr. Leigh’s clinical supervisor. Every licensed therapist had to maintain supervision relationships for continuing education and ethical oversight. Dr. Leigh’s supervisor was listed on her Psychology Today profile: Dr. Spencer Rhodes, Ph.D.
Samantha found his practice website. Specialized in clinical supervision and consultation for mental health professionals. His photo showed a distinguished man in his sixties with kind eyes and graying temples.
Perfect.
She pulled out her phone—the burner phone she’d bought last week specifically for this purpose—and dialed his office number.
“Dr. Rhodes’s office, Penelope speaking.” The voice was professional, warm.
“Hi, I’m hoping to schedule a consultation with Dr. Rhodes. I have some concerns about a therapeutic relationship I’ve been involved in, and I was told he might be able to provide guidance.”
“Of course. Are you a mental health professional seeking supervision, or—”
“No, I’m a client. Former client.” Samantha kept her voice uncertain, nervous. “I’m not sure if I’m overreacting, but some things happened in therapy that made me uncomfortable, and I wanted to talk to someone objective before deciding what to do.”
A pause. Then: “I see. Dr. Rhodes does occasionally consult with individuals who have concerns about their treatment. Let me check his availability. Can I ask who your therapist was?”
“Dr. Leigh Westmore. She’s one of his supervisees, I believe.”
Another pause, longer this time. “Yes, Dr. Westmore is part of Dr. Rhodes’s supervision group. Given that relationship, I should let you know that anything you discuss with Dr. Rhodes may need to be reported to Dr. Westmore or the licensing board, depending on the nature of your concerns.”
“I understand. I just want to make sure I’m not misinterpreting things before I make any formal complaints.”
“That’s very thoughtful. Let me see… Dr. Rhodes has an opening Wednesday at two PM. Would that work?”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
Samantha gave a fake name—Jennifer Martinez, the same one from her fake email—and hung up. Then she made detailed notes about the call, adding it to her evidence folder.
November 4, 9:15 AM: Called Dr. Rhodes’s office to schedule consultation regarding Dr. Westmore’s conduct. Receptionist confirmed Dr. Rhodes supervises Dr. Westmore. Appointment scheduled for November 6.
Step one complete. She’d established herself as someone trying to do the right thing, seeking guidance before making accusations. It would look better to the licensing board—show she’d made good-faith efforts to address concerns through appropriate channels.
Next, she opened her email and began drafting messages to create more paper trail.
The first was to Dr. Leigh’s office, copying from a template Wesley had helped her prepare:
Dear Dr. Westmore,
I wanted to follow up on our therapy sessions. While I appreciate the work you’ve done with Jared, I’ve been feeling increasingly uncomfortable with certain aspects of the therapeutic relationship. I’m hoping we can discuss my concerns during our next session.
Specifically, I’ve noticed that individual sessions with Jared seem to have shifted the focus of our couples work in ways that feel unbalanced. I’m also concerned about some boundary-related observations that may be impacting the therapeutic alliance.
I wanted to document these concerns in writing before our next appointment so we can address them constructively.
Best regards, Samantha Hayes
Carefully worded. Professional. No direct accusations, but clear documentation that she’d raised concerns. If Dr. Leigh responded dismissively or tried to gaslight her, that would be more evidence of unprofessional conduct.
She hit send and immediately saved a copy to her evidence folder.
Then she drafted an email to the licensing board—not a formal complaint yet, just an inquiry:
To Whom It May Concern,
I’m writing to inquire about the process for filing a complaint regarding potential ethical violations by a licensed therapist. I’m currently gathering information to determine whether formal action is appropriate.
Could you please provide information about: 1. The complaint filing process 2. What constitutes an ethical violation in the context of couples therapy 3. How complaints are investigated 4. Confidentiality protections for complainants
Thank you for your guidance.
Respectfully, Samantha Hayes
She sent that too, knowing it would create a record of her inquiry. Show she was being thoughtful and methodical rather than vindictive.
Her phone buzzed. Wesley.
Wesley: Licensing board complaint ready to file. Just needs your final approval. Can we meet today?
Samantha: 2 PM work? Your office?
Wesley: Perfect. See you then.
Samantha closed her laptop and looked around her quiet kitchen. The coffee maker Jared had bought her for Christmas. The photos on the fridge from their anniversary trip to wine country. The life they’d built together, now nothing but evidence and memories.
She heard movement from the guest room. Jared, finally waking up. In a few minutes, he’d shuffle out, grab coffee, make small talk, and head to work. Or head to Dr. Leigh’s. Who knew anymore?
The thought didn’t hurt the way it used to. She was past hurt. Past grief. Into that cold, clear space where emotions became strategy.
Jared appeared in the doorway, rumpled and half-asleep. “Morning.”
“Morning. Coffee’s fresh.”
“Thanks.” He poured himself a cup, added sugar. “What are you up to today?”
Building the case that will destroy your life, she thought. “Just errands. Meeting Riley for lunch.”
“Nice. Tell her I said hi.”
Riley, who now knew everything and had spent two hours yesterday listing creative ways to ruin both Jared and Dr. Leigh’s reputations. Riley, who’d offered to post the affair evidence on every social media platform simultaneously. Riley, who Samantha had to talk down from showing up at Dr. Leigh’s office with a baseball bat and righteous fury.
“I will,” Samantha said.
Jared finished his coffee, grabbed his keys. Paused at the door. “Hey, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should take a break from therapy for a bit. Give ourselves space to work on things without the pressure of weekly sessions.”
Samantha’s heart rate spiked, but she kept her expression neutral. “Really? I thought it was helping.”
“It was, but…” He shifted uncomfortably. “I just think we need to figure some things out on our own first. Maybe come back to it later.”
Translation: Dr. Leigh had told him to end the therapeutic relationship before their affair became more obvious. Smart move, actually. But too late.
“If that’s what you think is best,” Samantha said carefully.
“Yeah. I’ll let Dr. Leigh know we’re taking a break.” He jangled his keys, eager to leave this conversation. “Anyway, gotta run. Long day ahead.”
“Bye.”
She watched him leave and immediately texted Wesley: Jared just said he wants to quit therapy. Dr. Leigh is trying to cover her tracks. We need to file before they formalize ending the therapeutic relationship.
Wesley: Agreed. We’ll file today. Come prepared to sign everything.
At 2 PM, Samantha sat in Wesley’s office reviewing the final licensing board complaint. It was twelve pages of devastating documentation:
FORMAL COMPLAINT AGAINST DR. LEIGH WESTMORE, LPCC
Complainant: Samantha Hayes Date: November 4, 2025
SUMMARY OF VIOLATIONS:
Dr. Leigh Westmore engaged in an inappropriate sexual relationship with the husband of a client during active couples therapy treatment. This conduct violates multiple ethical standards including but not limited to:
1. Exploitation of professional relationship for personal benefit 2. Sexual contact with a relative or significant other of a client 3. Failure to maintain appropriate professional boundaries 4. Misuse of therapeutic relationship 5. Fraud and misrepresentation
The complaint went on to detail the timeline, supported by Keegan’s surveillance report, credit card statements, screenshots of texts, and photos. It included references to Dr. Leigh’s previous complaints, though those records were sealed. It documented Samantha’s attempts to address concerns through proper channels—the email she’d sent that morning, the consultation scheduled with Dr. Rhodes.
“This is bulletproof,” Wesley said. “The board will have no choice but to open a formal investigation. And once that’s public, her professional reputation is done.”
“What happens next?”
“We file this today. The board has thirty days to review and decide whether to open an investigation. Given the evidence, they’ll open one. Dr. Westmore will be notified and given a chance to respond. The investigation typically takes three to six months.”
“And the malpractice lawsuit?”
“We file that simultaneously. Civil court moves faster than licensing boards. We’ll likely get a settlement offer within sixty days.” Wesley pulled out another document. “This is the divorce petition. Grounds of adultery, supported by the same evidence. We’ll file this Wednesday—give Dr. Westmore twenty-four hours to receive the licensing complaint before she realizes the full extent of what’s coming.”
Samantha signed everything. The complaint. The lawsuit. The divorce petition. Her signature felt powerful—decisive, final, the end of one life and the beginning of another.
“One more thing,” Wesley said, pulling out a business card. “This is a journalist I know. Works for the local paper, covers legal and medical ethics stories. Once the licensing complaint is public, she might reach out. You’re under no obligation to talk to her, but if you want your story told, she’s trustworthy.”
Samantha took the card. Brooke Ellison, Investigative Reporter.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Now go home. Rest. Tomorrow the bomb drops.”
Samantha left the office and sat in her car for a long moment. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, Dr. Leigh would receive the licensing board complaint. Would realize that the oblivious wife she’d been gaslighting had actually been documenting everything. Would understand that her career was over.
And Wednesday, Jared would be served divorce papers at his office. Would have to explain to his colleagues why his wife was leaving him. Would finally understand that his affair had consequences.
Samantha drove to the coffee shop on Morrison Street—the one where she’d first seen Dr. Leigh wearing that necklace. Ordered a latte and sat by the window, watching people go by.
Her phone buzzed. An email notification. Response from Dr. Leigh’s office:
Dear Samantha,
Thank you for your email. Dr. Westmore is always open to discussing any concerns you have about the therapeutic process. However, she wanted me to let you know that given Jared’s request to pause therapy temporarily, she thinks it might be best to address your concerns when/if you resume treatment.
Please feel free to reach out if you’d like to schedule individual sessions to process any feelings that have come up.
Best, Tessa Chandler
Samantha read it twice. So Dr. Leigh was going to hide behind the pause in treatment. Pretend Samantha’s concerns were just anxiety about the break. Refuse to engage with the actual boundary violations.
Perfect. More evidence of avoiding accountability.
She screenshot the email and added it to her folder with a note: Dr. Westmore refusing to address documented concerns. Using pause in treatment as shield. Shows awareness of impropriety.
Then she opened a new email and sent one final message to Dr. Rhodes’s office:
Hi Penelope,
I wanted to confirm my appointment for Wednesday at 2 PM. I’ve been thinking more about my concerns, and I believe they’re serious enough that I may need to file a formal complaint. I wanted to consult with Dr. Rhodes first to make sure I’m handling this appropriately.
Thank you, Jennifer Martinez
Send.
Now the trap was set. Dr. Rhodes would see a client tomorrow with concerns about his supervisee. He’d be ethically obligated to take those concerns seriously. And when the formal licensing complaint hit his desk the same day, he’d have documentation that someone had tried to address the issue through appropriate channels first.
Samantha finished her latte and headed home.
Tonight, she’d have a normal evening. Make dinner. Watch TV. Pretend everything was fine.
Tomorrow, she’d watch the first domino fall.
And by Friday, everyone would know the truth about Dr. Leigh Westmore and Jared Hayes.
The setup was complete.
Now came the destruction.
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