Chapter 2 – Genesis

Six years ago

Andrea’s POV

“It’s disheartening what we have witnessed. But I assure everyone that J&K Glamor Hotel will work together with the cops to find whoever is responsible for this ominous act.” Jasper’s rich brass voice laced with fake compunction echoed loudly in my ears.

“Sonofabitch!”

I fumed, unplugging the earpiece in self-imposed anger, and letting it fall to the table. I took my anger out on my computer, punching the pause button and freezing Jasper’s face on my screen.

Everything about him screamed-pretense, cover-up, and callousness.

This was what… the millionth-and-one time I was watching this video? Hoping I could find… something! Anything that would be a lead against this man.

But rewatching this video countless times was meaningless, not like I was waiting for J&K owner, Jasper Vasques to confess that he had something to do with Layla Moore’s death. Or at least, an acknowledgment that he knew who was responsible.

My cell phone vibrated on the table and I was ready to swear at the caller when I turned and saw Ty’s face popping out on my screen.

“Hi, Drea,” he called me in his usual cordial manner when I took the call.

He was the only one allowed to call me Drea, not even my parents could do that. In the past years, Ty had become more than my P.I. He was a friend, a confidant, and the only one who knew my real identity.

“I’m impatient, Ty, give me what you have,” I spoke eagerly.

“Nothing.” He simply said.

“Nothing. Am I supposed to take that as a metaphor?”

“I have nothing, Drea. I always come up with nothing as far as this Moore’s case is concerned. It’s the same old story, nothing’s changed, and it’s not going to. It’s been six months already. Why won’t you listen to me and give this up?” the lecture was about to start again.

I whimpered audibly, leaning my elbow on the table.

“You know I can’t do that, not until I get to the bottom of this. I’m ready to do anything if it means I get to expose Jasper Vasques for the monster he is. The world needs to know how he kills these young girls and covers it up as drunk suicide.” I blurted out angrily.

“Shhh…Drea! Where are you?” he asked quickly.

“The coffee shop, why?”

“Goodness. Is anyone present as you make these wild accusations?”

“Puff.” I scoffed. “No one is here, and even if there were tons of people, I couldn’t care less. Everything I have said is the truth, I just haven’t found proof.”

“Exactly! Which is why you should keep your mouth shut until you do. You can’t go around making such comments, you could…”

“What, get arrested?” I interrupted with a snort. “This isn’t L.A. Ty, it’s Ontario. No one here is going to call and rat me out to Vasques.”

“You never know,” there was a sigh and a brief pause before he said. “Be careful, Drea, we don’t want a repeat of the last time.”

There was a flash of the last time Ty was referring to, I had been in L.A. and unknown to me someone had been tailing me. Thanks to Ty who found out, seized every information the guy had gathered on me, and threatened to publish a story from his past got the guy to back off.

“Last time, I was in L.A. I’m being careful, Ty.” I added when he tried to speak again.

“I hope so, Andrea. I sincerely hope you are.”

The thickness of his words and the seriousness in his voice couldn’t be mistaken, but before I had the chance to respond, there was a jamming sound from my phone notifying me of another incoming call. I pulled the phone from my ear and saw it was my mom’s nurse calling.

“I’d call you back, Ty, I need to take this call. It’s from my mom.”

“Is everything okay?” he inquired concernedly.

“Hopefully.” The call persisted. “I should find out.”

“Okay, bye,” Ty’s voice died off with the line.

I answered the incoming call from the nurse.

“Is my mom okay, Ms. Zane?” I quizzed apprehensively.

“No, Andrea.” The distress in her voice was enough to set my whole body on fire. “Your mother collapsed in the bathroom.”

“What?” I erupted to my feet. “Where is she? Where are you?”

“We have taken her to the hospital.”

Despite my anguish, the plural pronoun ‘we’ didn’t escape my notice. “We? You and who took her to the hospital?”

I heard someone call her name from the background. The deep, masculine voice sounded very familiar, but there was no way he would be there. I utilized the moment of Ms. Zane’s distraction to gather my computer, the files, journals, and magazines I had littered everywhere on the table in the portable bag I carried everywhere with me.

“Ms. Zane!” I yelled, drawing her attention back to me.

“I’m sorry, Andrea, but I think you should hurry down here.”

“Send the hospital address to me. Now!”

I rushed out of Fred’s coffee shop, flagging down a taxi. I scrolled through my phone, refreshing my inbox until Ms. Zane’s message came. Rae’s Hospital. My eyes bulged; we couldn’t afford the luxury of Rae’s Hospital. Ms. Zane should know better, I thought, unless, of course, that voice belonged to…oh, hell. Boy, no way!

The taxi parked in front of the grand building of Rae’s Hospital, without bothering for my change, I ran all the way to the entrance. I lost count of the number of times I had received calls like this about Mom’s condition. I’d have to pause whatever I was doing and rush to meet her. These visits to the hospital were becoming more alarmingly frequent, and the only way to put an end to it was for her to undergo the surgery her doctors recommended.

I paused in front of the blond lady at the reception, panting uncontrollably. The wispy-haired lady gazed at me questioningly as I fumbled through my phone for the room number.

“Ward B, Room 312…?”

“What’s your name and what purpose do you have in room 312?” the lady asked in a professional tone.

I was in so much hurry, I was ready to snap at her for slowing me down, but I took several calming breaths, letting it sink that she was right and only doing her job.

“I am Andrea Graham, and I am here to see my mom. She was rushed here, a few hours ago…?” My articulately put words bellied the panic in me.

The lady spent the next few minutes rummaging through the large register in front of her. I used the time to glance at her name tag, Gertrude. No wonder, the name and the bearer were both alike. Both were stiff. Perhaps, when things were calmer, I’d give Gertrude a piece of my mind!

“Ms. Graham’s room is that way…” Gertrude finally raised her head and pointed me in a direction. “Last door on the passage.” She instructed.

I didn’t bother with any gratitude as I hurried off. Thankfully, there was no need for elevators as I took the turn she had pointed and walked down the spacious corridor. As I walked down, I briefly took in the lusciousness of the hospital.

The spacious corridor, lined with polished floors and tasteful artwork, was unlike other hospitals where the smell of antiseptic made you want to unturn everything in your stomach. This place felt almost welcoming. It was my first time being inside this hospital, which makes it easier to understand why their services are so expensive.

No none was loitering by the corridor as I arrived at the door, a brief knock and I unlocked the door.

“Oh, thank God you’re here, Andrea.” Ms. Zane took my hands relieved.

“How is she?” My eyes trailed to the bed where my mom lay sleeping peacefully.

“She is asleep.” Ms. Zane stated the obvious, letting go of my hands, and making way for me to approach the bed. “The doctor says she needs maximum rest.”

“But that’s all she does, Ms. Zane. So, I don’t understand why this keeps happening.”

“It’s the surgery, Andrea. Your mom needs to have that surgery as soon as possible.”

My face fell as I turned my attention to Mom, I took her right hand in mine, stooping so I could kiss it.

I didn’t need Ms. Zane or anyone else to remind me of the urgency of mom’s surgery, what I needed was a legit way of getting the money. Whatever savings Mom had was gone when this battle began two years ago. Pause, in the real sense, I found out two years old; meanwhile, she had been struggling with pancreatic cancer way before that. I found out at this time when it was diagnosed to have reached the fourth stage.

Her doctor had advised palliative surgery to relieve the symptoms, this can only potentially extend her survival not necessarily cure the cancer. Yet, we couldn’t even afford the money. All that she had saved, combined with the income I made from my blog posts was barely enough to cover her weekly chemo and regular visits to the hospital.

“You’re going to be fine, Mom, I promise.” I made a low, vague promise.

The door opened, interrupting my thoughts, and I turned in anticipation to speak with the doctor. But my words were lost in my throat when I saw who entered the room.

“What did the doctor say, Mr Graham?” Ms. Zane rushed to meet him.

I quickly recovered from the shock in time to let my disdain take over. “The doctor? What the hell is he doing here, Ms. Zane?!”

Ms. Zane backed up as I approached her and my father.

“I’m sorry, Andrea…but… your line wasn’t active. I had no choice but to call him.” The older woman looked scared out of her wits. She’d better!

“Don’t be too harsh on the poor woman, I offered to help,” Dad intervened.

I stared with disgust at the man who hadn’t been my father for as long as I could differentiate between right from wrong.

“I’m not speaking to you! Don’t you dare interfere.” I yelled and he raised his hand in mock defeat. I ignored him turning my attention back to Ms. Zane. “You should know better, than to call this…man,” I spat out for lack of more appropriate words. “What do you mean by the question you asked him earlier? About the doctor…?”

“He went to speak to the doctor.” Ms. Zane replied in an extremely low and cautious tone.

If eyes could kill, Ms. Zane would have instantly dropped dead. “He what…?” My gaze shot from her to my father. “You had no right! No right being here at all.”

“What other choice did I have? Refuse her call, or better still, let Ms. Zane hurl your mother on her back and carry her down to the hospital?” he couldn’t hide the indignation in his voice.

“Compared to being around you, your options proved to be the best.”

“Stop the whining, Andrea. You should be thanking me; I saved your mother’s life. Show some gratitude.” He spread his hands.

Mom winced, drawing our attention. I rushed to her side and held her hands while she shifted uncomfortably in her sleep. After a while, the peace was restored and she was once again breathing amicably. Tears pooled in my eyes at seeing the struggle my mom was in. I needed to act fast.

“Her condition is worsening according to the doctor,” Dad spoke as if reading my mind. “The surgery needs to be done soon.”

I swiped at the tears aggressively, glaring at me. “Thanks for the information, Mr. good Samaritan. I had no idea she needed surgery.” My aim at being sarcastic had no impact on Dad.

He was gazing at his phone and raised his brow briefly to spare me a glance. This was the man I remembered. The man was always absent even when he was physically present in a room with his family. Dad was nonchalant and cared about no one but himself. This would explain why he walked out on us after finding out about Mom’s illness.

“We need to talk, Andrea,” he said, tucking his phone away in his pocket.

“What about?”

“Outside.” He ordered, turning to leave.

I remained firm in my position, staring at him defiantly, unmoving.

He cocked his head and frowned, “Please… Andrea! Please Let’s talk.

“Why are you here?” I rounded him once we were outside.

“To help, Andrea. Whether you accept it or not, you and your mother need me!”

“Hurray. Take your crown,” I mimicked a crown and attempted to place it on his head but he swatted my hands away. “I promise I will pay back every dime you have spent on my mother.

We don’t need you, and we sure as hell ain’t your charity case.”

“Fine. If that’s how you want it, there’s actually a way you can pay me back.” His phone vibrates, just then and he takes it out peeking into it again, distracted.

“What is this about? I didn’t come out here so you can spend all day on your phone.”

“Sorry about that, dear. It’s just…”

“Save it, Mr Graham. Tell me why you brought me out here.” This time, my words got to him.

He hated it when I referred to him as Mr Graham. “Are we still on that?” I stayed mute. “Fine. Do you want your mom to get better?”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my hands underneath my breasts. “What kind of a question is that?”

He nudged his head and a crooked smile curved the corner of his lips. But before he could speak again, a call came in. Dad lifted his hand, taking the call and stepping away out of ear’s reach. I stood there for more than twenty minutes waiting for him to return, and when our eyes met, he signaled for me to go that the conversation was postponed.

Angered at myself for letting this man delude me for even a second that he could provide a solution to Mom’s ailing situation, I turned from him and returned to the room.