Chapter 4. I Know You Can Hear Me

Sitting under the tree is a girl who is at a crossroads on a slow day. The death of her father had left her with no anchor. No compass. And everything he had ever groomed her for was breaking into pieces. Last week, The Wall Street Journal had the stocks of Croft Incorporation falling by large margins.

Lara sighs, cupping her face in her palms. She is in a private park. Her comfort place. This is where her father brought her on the good days. It is a shared sanctuary — serene and calm with orange blossoms and a tiny pond where they tossed stones and talked to blow off steam.

Her father never treated her like anyone else all through the years he was alive. He took her as his mini-confidant, an heir to his kingdom.

After the death of her Mother, Maureen, they both become each other's anchors. Maureen died in an accident on the eve of Lara’s tenth birthday. She was out of town, trying to make it to her daughter's birthday, although heavily pregnant with their second child. Against Croft's wishes, she insisted on leaving for home that night.

She never made it. She died along with her unborn child. The news was devastating, it had all of Grosthe city in mourning for weeks and sending flowers, for her light was so bright it not only shone on her husband and daughter, it spread out into the people around her.

Her heart was so big it could carry the world. She owned numerous foundations and hosted more charities than anyone could count. Each was successful. Her light touched even the farthest and darkest corners. The weather in Grosthe was never dewy, always sunny or rainy, until her death.

Her grave was underneath the only oak tree in the park. Her father had once said it symbolized who she truly was to them — their strength. Beside her lay his own body, shaded by the oak. Even in death, her mother remains a solace to Richard Croft.

Lara Croft was born on the 14th of February 2002. If anyone has ever heard of a child born from love, it is her. In the cut-throat world of the business elites in Grosthe, love is a flimsy word. It is vague and a mirage. Richard and Maureen found it where they shouldn't have, and it was beautiful while it lasted.

Growing up without her mother was hard for Lara. She had no siblings, so she was constantly in need of company. She was always lonely and isolated, except for the times she spent with her father. She never even knew what it was like to have childhood friends, until Claire.

Home-schooled and sheltered from the world, it never crossed her mind that her childhood was different. She had an etiquette teacher and was drilled in business and public speaking. She even spent her weekends at Croft Enterprise chasing her father’s shadow from a young age.

By twenty-one, she had gotten her MBA at Harvard. It was where she met Claire. Life at the university was an eye-opener for Lara. She went nowhere without security. Attended no parties. No one approached, and it irked her every time she felt her security breathing down her neck. Claire was the only one who had been audacious enough to talk to her.

It is safe to say Lara never experienced youth. All her life she has felt the heaviness of responsibilities on her fragile shoulders.

She glances at the two pendants in her palms. They are black and emerald green, cut from an exquisite rare stone. Each belonged to her parents. Every time she holds them, she feels closer to them. She wonders if she will ever find a love like theirs.

How much of a mess-up has she been since her father’s death? How low has she fallen? Pregnant with no idea of whose child she is carrying and with no hope of ever finding him. Tears pool and drop from her eyes, wetting the gemstones. She weeps for the disappointment she has become.

“I’m sorry” She whispers. “I’m sorry for letting you down.” The wind blows the scent of the blossoms and oak into her nostrils. She inhales and exhales, and then falls into bouts of tears.

“I don’t know what to do.” She bemoans softly, twirling the gems in her hand. Then she hears leaves rustling and turns sharply towards the sound. It is Steve. The new security staff.

“Miss Lara!”

She looks away and hurriedly dabs her eyes. Crying in front of subordinates was a sign of weakness, according to the late Richard Croft.

“You've been told not to interrupt whenever I'm here!” She snaps, setting her back straight.

“I-I’m sorry, ma’am” He stutters.

“What is it?”

“You have a call from your Mother. She says she has been trying to reach you, but you have not been picking up your calls.” He reports, widening his leg and folding his hands behind his back. The truth is, talking to Rose is the last thing she wants to do. She fears that she will somehow give away her predicament and there will be no turning back for the ripple effect of disaster that will follow. Rose has always been the sharpest tool in the shed. A hound dog. If she catches so much as a whiff of something off, she latches on to it until she gets to the meat of it.

Her phone buzzes and, of course, it is Rose. She ignores it again. Steve’s phone buzzes seconds later and, with alacrity, he answers.

“Ma’am,” he pauses. “Okay Ma’am,” he matches closer to Lara and stretches out the phone to her. She glares pointedly at it.

“She wants to talk to you.”

Lara ignores him, staring at the phone as if it were a mosquito. He sighs discreetly, returning the phone to his ears.

“Ma’am... Okay ma’am,” He puts the phone on speaker.

“I know you’re there, Lara, and I am sure you can hear me. Meet me at my study immediately. We have a meeting with the lawyers and your presence is a must.”

Lara groans out a subtle cuss as the line goes off.