Never Ending

~24~

A shiver runs through my body. I can't submit to such a fate. But still there is not much I can do from where I'm sitting locked inside the car. I fish for my phone from my bag ready to call for help. My first instinct is to call Carter. Unknowingly, I've come to trust Carter with my life more than I can trust the police. I wait as the dial tone goes.

Three rings later, I give up. Carter won't be able to help me in time. My ears catch the resonance of a police siren. I get close to the window and watch as it approaches poised to scream for help when it is within hearing range. I bang my fists onto the car window, calling for help but the cruiser passes by without even a glance.

Resigned to my fate, I don't see the Laureate creeping up from up ahead. I notice it when all hope has been lost. Before the car even stops, I try the door and to my luck it is opened. I tumble out, landing on the pavement ungracefully. I get up hastily and wipe my ass as I run to the elevator. I am convinced that I only escaped in a moment of carelessness. I take the stairs instead of the elevator and only rest when I am inside the safety of my apartment.

Then it hits me that I have just, stupidly landed in the lion's den for sure. Images of the last attack my father perpetrated on me inside these very walls open a wound that was still raw. Despite my bruises having healed, I can still feel the pain of the blows from that man. I feel cornered as the darkness inside the room engulfs me. I back into a corner, bumping into someone.

At that moment, I wish I had prayed more. I see heaven flash before me, a world away. I am not even eligible for that. I wish I had fulfilled my mission, I wish dad would get retribution for all the things he did. Most of all, I wish I had confessed my feelings to Carter, no matter how stupid that is. Instead of fighting back, I fall down whimpering with fright. I am ready for the final blow or bullet to end it once and for all.

Instead, familiar arms pick me up from the floor. I am pressed onto a cush chest hearing the even beat of Carter's heart. "It's okay. I am here." When he says that I realize he really is here and I am not in danger anymore. I encircle my arms around his waist, feeling the hard muscles underneath his shirt. I try to emulate his heart beat so as to calm my own racing heart. After a few minutes standing like this, I feel better. I let go of his embrace, searching for his face in the darkness. I can't see it but I know he is here and that's enough.

"Let's go home." I say as I intertwine our hands and pull him to the door. He drives me back to the penthouse, his hands not leaving mine; drawing lazy circles in my palm unconsciously. I relish this little contact, feeling that little by little we are getting closer. I take a shower once I reach home and get into bed immediately. I never got to eat my dinner properly but I am not hungry anymore. Carter doesn't come immediately, I start feeling dejected thinking, even after that vulnerable moment at the Laureate he is still determined to avoid me.

I turn onto my side of the bed facing away from the door. Tears well up in my eyes but I keep them at bay. It's not becoming to cry over this.

As I am drifting off to sleep, the weight of the bed dips as Carter gets into bed. I pretend like I am already asleep. His hands snakes onto my waist and he hoists himself close beside me. As he spoons me, I turn to see his face. He smiles when our eyes meet. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I can't put into words how happy I feel at that moment. I want to kiss him and tell him I love him and probably if he were to ask me to marry him right now, I'd say yes.

I retract when I realize what I just thought. Marriage? Obviously, that's too far-fetched.

I turn around again and rest my head onto his arm hugging his forearms on my waist. I fall asleep with a silly smile on my face and a buoyant heart. I can really get used to this.

I wake up to an empty bed, no note, no nothing.

In the next few days, it is chaos. Everywhere I pass, billboards, newspapers, TVs all have my name, face or both on it. Somehow, I have single handedly made America forget about the whole NASA shenanigan. At work, it is even worse.

The stares are merciless, the scowls and derisive smirks. No one believes I can take on my father in court, not even past the motions. De Laure delivers the news that the case is past the motions on a 'Motion to Discover' basis late on Friday. I am home drinking an Earl Grey and sifting through new articles for the next week. Nothing about the case ever landed on my desk, but I know much of the incriminating articles that were published were from the company. Dad is a major shareholder after all.

It is a jab in the chest, to know that even that small victory was tainted by him. I know he only let the case proceed because he wants to toy with me and defeat me when the whole world is watching, not a second before. I am determined to make him rue his smugness.

"It's all in our favor. As you know, much of our evidence may get us to trial but not much farther." He says as a way of comforting me. I don't feel much better. I am at the end of my rope, and there aren't that many leads left. If only I could get my hands on someone from the inside, someone like me, Violetta or August. August!

Even the thought of asking him for help has me crestfallen. He wouldn't help me even if I was dying, let alone in a court, publicly against his beloved 'role model' father dearest. I slump with chagrin. When will things start looking up for me? Every step I take, I take three backwards. Making it through the case with my reputation intact and a victory under my belt is even more illusory.

"I will get more. I will." I say more to convince myself.

"I'll be waiting upon it." The call clicks off. Tomorrow, I have to devise another plan, one that will give me the upper hand against my father.

A week later, a police search in one of my father's subsidiary companies proves fraudulent acts, money laundering and false advertising. A little bird tipped off the police late the previous week which has proven quite fruitful. Even better than I imagined it would be.

My phone rings out of the blue. It is too late in the night to be receiving calls. It's De Laure. "The news just reached me in Paris." There is a lot of noise wherever he is and the sound of people milling about, of traffic. "What is this all about? Why are you playing games, Tara?" He is pissed off. He is too old to appreciate good old fashioned fun, I realize.

"I am getting what you wanted." I reply defensively, my hand massaging my throbbing temples. Suddenly I am too tired to enjoy this new found victory.

"Not in this way." The fact that he doesn't understand this one power shift is irksome to me. Like was I supposed to sit and let everything pan out in a boring ass court? "Luckily, your frolics did not harm anything but please don't take any more risks until we are certain of the victory." The way he is talking to me reminds me that he is my elder by so many years, and suddenly I feel like the stubborn impulsive child who went and messed up everything.

"This is good for the case, I promise. Besides we need to get a chink into his armour, else we won't even get to the trials at all." Adamantly, I refuse to promise not to stir up trouble for him.

"I'll be waiting on it." When he clicks off he sounds less angry than he was before, which indicates that we are cool. I get back to reading the headlines. On NNC, my father goes live at the entrance of one of the prestigious night restaurants. Cornered by the paparazzi, he denies all the allegations and claims it's a misunderstanding that he'll clear up soon.

Looking straight into the camera he says, "and to my dear daughter," his face assumes a smirk that some may mistake for a genuine fatherly smile, the same he used to give me before locking me in the basement, "Don't think your shenanigans will go on for long. We can resolve this without causing a scene or forcing each other to go to extremes."