Chapter 2. Am I Dying?

Rose takes a sip from her glass, her eyes never leaving the girl sitting before her as she sets it back on the shimmering glass table. The girl is as beautiful as her mother had been. Her auburn tresses cascade past her slender shoulders and curl wistfully at her waist. With eyes a mixed hue of blue, green and gray, they give off an out-worldly appearance. Her curves have become even more obvious since she turned twenty-one.

Lara Croft is the spitting image of her mother, but the wisdom and strength of her father is evident in her conduct. This is perhaps one of the reasons Rose, her stepmother, doesn't take a liking to her. She reminds her of all the things she is not.

Before Richard Croft, Rose used to be known as Eve Stone, the most sought-after escort in Grosthe. The life she’s lived is not a virtuous one. Her morals are jaded and in her head exists a blurred line between good and evil.

One must survive, and for it to happen one must get one's hands dirty. Rose washes her ‘hands’ from time to time by participating in charity events. She is also an anonymous sponsor for girls who have fallen victims to rape and human trafficking. Or so, she believes.

She leans back on the couch and crosses her legs. After coming a long way from who she used to be, Rose still feels like an outsider in the midst of all this wealth. Everything she owns doesn't feel quite like hers. The trauma from her past life still skews her view of life. Somehow, she feels like one day she will find herself back in the ramshackle house on the outskirts of Grosthe.

The cashmere and fur still felt foreign on her skin, sometimes she would walk past a mirror and do a double take at the woman she saw. All the wealth, yet she still feels inferior. It doesn't help that the women in the elite society and clubhouse detest her for good reason. She single-handedly broke marriages within the short span of her Escort career. A change of name and status is not magic, it won't diabolically erase their memory either. The other time, a co-wife in her golf club purposely left her out of a brunch party, and it made her feel like a mess.

She pulls her fingers into a fist as an unwanted wave of impostor syndrome washes over her. She shakes off the feeling. After all, there are other important things to feel bad about.

First is the death of her husband. Second is the impending downfall of Croft Inc. The third is the fact that her stepdaughter, who has never spent a night away from home, did not come back home last night. Her father’s corpse has barely been laid and she's started her rebellion.

Rose is aware that she is their golden ticket out of this slump, and she will protect this child that she hates with everything she has. There's no way in hell she is going back to Eve Stone.

“Where were you?” She grits her teeth.

“I was out with Claire” Lara replies, her voice hoarse and shaking with guilt.

“Hmm. I think you don't quite understand the gravity of things currently, but I'll spell it out for you.” Rose sits forward, “Our company is dying, and the vultures are starting to swoop in. And you are our only hope out of this mess. This is not the time to be running around the city like an unhinged teenager!”

Lara nods instinctively. Her step-mother is right. If anything, she feels ashamed that she has to hear it from her.

“You do not go anywhere without security.”

“B-”

“No, buts, Lara, we are hanging by a thread here. One wrong move, a single mistake, and Crofts Incorporation is done for good. We will be out in the streets like homeless dogs!” Rose rages, her chest heaving either from anger or from the fear of losing everything. Stunned by the outburst, Lara simply nods again, wringing her fingers.

Carter, Rose’s personal assistant, walks in just then. He's about 6ft 3' and handsome in a boyish way. His baby blue eyes are perpetually widened like a toddler in Disneyland. He's been her boy-toy for years now and everybody knows it.

“You have a call from the lawyer,” he says, his voice is soft and fills the cold room like a warm cloud. Rose stands to leave, saying nothing else to Lara. Her silence is more than enough.

***

The weather is humid and damp. It bears down on the citizens of Grosthe as they trudge on along the pavements. The corporate world fans out right at the center of Grosthe. Dark suits and stark white shirts filter in and out of monster-sized buildings. A lot of noise, rushed calls, people calling off deals, people making deals, and people sharing the latest news in the stock market.

The number of people nibbling on burrito wraps far exceeds those who aren't. But everybody is definitely holding a cup of coffee. It is the only way to survive on these streets. The vast majority have not slept a wink in weeks. Lara turns from the large wall of windows and sits back on the consulting chair.

For the past week, since her last conversation with her mother, she's been feeling light-headed and nauseous. Her movements have become lethargic as her limbs can barely hold her up these days. Yesterday she’d thrown up in the office. Today she feels like someone has thrown her on a spinning wheel. Even the doctor looks like a weird alien as he returns from the lab.

He has been the family doctor since Croft was established. His youthfulness belies how long he has spent on earth, except for his graying temples. Dr. Owens could pass as a man in his thirties. He takes his seat and places the file on the table rather solemnly. Lara's heart skips.

“What? Am I dying?” She perks up in her chair, her brows rumpling with worry.

“No...” He hesitates, then opens the file again and sighs heavily.

“What is it?”

“Lara...”