Chapter 3. Where Is She?

Lara trudges down the sidewalk in a trance. Her world is conceivably crumbling before her eyes, and she is trapped in what seems like her worst nightmare. The horrid, damp weather of Grosthe city makes a matching backdrop to her desolate situation. She moves without direction, slowly and disorientated. Dazed, her mind flashes back to the previous conversation she had with Dr Owens.

“You are pregnant,” he finally lets out, peering over at her through his glasses.

“I am what?” She blinks severely as if trying to confirm if she were in a trance. Her eyes are widened, and the air is suddenly stiff.

“How could you be so careless, Lara?” He asks in exasperation, disappointment written all over his face.

“I don't know what you mean… Are you sure it's not something else? Perhaps a growth. I've been feeling like I'm slowly…dying.”

He blinks at her for a moment. “You’re pregnant”, he repeats, dryly. Lara’s face crumples with distress. This is not happening!

“Oh my God!” She lets out a tense breath, her hand flying to her chest to calm her racing heart. Rose is going to kill her! She will skin her alive and toast her insides.

“What were you thinking?” The baritone voice echoes again in the background.

“I...”

“What happened to your pills? Why didn't you use protection? You cannot do this right now. You are a Croft. The only pure Croft left.“ He groans bitterly. The doctor had pretty much earned the right to reprimand her. He was the one who birthed her, took out her first tooth, and saw her through several illnesses. He had done the same for Croft himself. They had been friends for the longest time and his passing was devastating news for the Owens as well. He naturally assumes some kind of responsibility for the prodigy of his late friend.

“I know… I'm sorry.” She bows her head, wringing her fingers.“ I was drunk. I never drink. I only went out with Claire to clear my head after Dad’s death. I don't know what happened after. I just found myself in a hotel room.”

“Hmmm,” Dr. Owens heaves, shaking his head in disapproval.

“What if I take it out?” She asks, her damp eyes hopeful, grasping for slippery straws to salvage the situation. His face falls, and he rubs his temples.

“You can’t,” he replies.

“Why?” She presses on desperately. There is no way she is keeping the baby. The only way out for Croft Inc. at the moment is for her to marry one of the business tycoons hovering around, for a merger.

“We found a growth, Lara. Taking out the fetus will be risky and there is every chance you might never have a child again. Or we might even lose you.”

Stunned, she sits still, her senses seemingly going on holiday. Perhaps this is just a nightmare, and she will soon wake up in an alternate universe where her father is still alive, and she never went out with Claire on that treacherous night.

“The best we can do is to keep the baby. Maybe we can talk to your mother…”

“No! Don't!” She gasps, grabbing onto the desk." Rose must hear nothing about this. Do keep this between the two of us. Please, Dr. Owens?”

He sighs, for the umpteenth time. “Alright, I will for now. But you have to act fast, Lara. A pregnancy can only be kept hidden for so long.”

“I know, '' Lara cries.

*

Lara finds herself standing in front of the infamous bar. In broad daylight, it looks different — less sleazy.

The dark gray brick walls of the building hide the debauchery going on inside. She scans the area, pulling her dark hoodie down over her eyes. She had escaped while her security guard waited for her at the office by substituting her Prada suit for a hoodie and faded jeans, and taking the back exit, flagging down a taxi in disguise. Her dark assembly and sneakers make her look like a homeless person, the perfect appearance for her rendezvous.

She stares blankly at the entrance for a moment, a wave of determination sweeps through her, and she scribes into the bar. The inside is dimly lit. The ambiance is rather calm compared to the night she was there. Taking a seat at the counter, she gestures to the bartender. He sharply walks over, wiping a glass vigorously. His hair is pulled in a ponytail and his sleeve tattoo flexes under the dim light.

“Orange juice please.” She smiles plastically. He gives her a dry stare as if waiting for her to say she is joking, but she doesn't.

“We don't sell orange juice here, lady.” He lets out gruffly.

“Water then.”

He hesitates for a while, his eyes perusing her. “Still having PTSD from the last time you were here?” He muses. Lana perks up. Does he know her? Perhaps he saw something on that night.

“You saw me?”

“Of course. Everyone saw you. You are damn well hard to miss, lady. The hot man you left with thought the same too.”

“Oh yeah? What did he look like?”

“Um… Tall, ‘bout 6 feet 4', looked like them billionaire tycoons uptown.”

She struggled to remember his face, but she got nothing. "Okay, here is the thing. I need your help”

He giggles, dropping the glass cup on the surface in front of him. "And here we go. It's going to cost you, miss."

“When you haven't heard what I need from you?”

“The hundred bucks is for listening to you, lady.”

“Fine.” She pulls out her purse and slips him a currency note without hesitation. His right brow goes up in bemusement.

“Now you've got my attention.” He grins, setting the cup aside. “Shoot.”

“Okay, so this man you were describing, if you see him again, can you call me on this line?” She grabs a white hankie, pulls out a ballpoint pen from her pocket, and scratches her number on it.

“Gotcha, miss. That's gon’ cost a thousand bucks. It's a job, you know.” He argues again, his diabolical grin lingering.

She kissed her teeth in irritation, but now was not the time to stall or grumble. Her time was almost up. She opens her purse again, counting some bills and slipping them to him.

“Did you see any other lady with me that night?” Lara adds. Claire has been AWOL. She still hasn't been answering her voicemails...

The bartender gives her a blank look.

“Ugh, fine!” She adds another note to the fray on the counter and his teeth flash under the dim light as he grabs them all at once.

“Oh yeah, the other pretty lady. Well, she left after you did.”

“You see which way she went and who she was with?” Lara presses on, but he clears his throat… She slams another bill on the polished surface. He snatches it and stuffs it in his back pockets, maintaining a criminally graceful carriage about.

“No. She left the bar alone.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, her lips pursed in worry.

He shrugs, raising his brows. “Our clients’ detailed information is confidential. Sorry, it's just company policy.”

“This is sick!” Lara slips three more bills to him and his otherwise hooded lids flutter wide in surprise.

“She left here alone. Walked out of the bar cat-walking and zoomed off in a pink saloon car.”

Lara’s brows pucker and release. He is right. Claire drives a pink high-class vehicle. Why didn't she just take her home if she was as drunk as she was that night?

“Thank you” Lana muttered, her head whirling in confusion. Where under the blue skies is Claire?