Chapter Four

“Daniel Lucas?” Andrea questioned with a curious look on her face, not necessarily expecting a response.

“It’s not someone you know”, Samantha retorted, grabbed her phone, carried her leftover food and headed to the kitchen. Tension was written over her movements, but she tried to act casual.

Andrea looked at her dad.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, dad?”

“Focus on your food, Andrea. There’s enough time to talk about this.”

“Dad?”

“Daniel and Samantha have some business together. That’s why he’s probably calling her.”

“But he had an accident just yesterday. And why is he calling her at this time?”

“Business doesn’t care if you’re sick or well. You have to do what must be done.”

“He hasn’t even called me, and he’s calling his ‘business partner’?”

“Business before pleasure, Andrea.”

“Are you hiding something from me, dad?”

“He’s probably mad that you abandoned him at the hospital. I’m sure he will call you soon. You should even call to check on him.”

“He took me on a date and left me. Then he got himself in an accident, and I’m the one to be blamed?” Her eyes were steady in a way that wasn’t calm at all. She stood up, stared at her dad for a few seconds, let out an irritating groan, her hand dragging down her face, and left the table.

The next day, Mr Morgan’s apartment: 

Andrea had slept with frustration clenched in her chest the previous night. She opened her eyes. It was 7:11 am. It felt so good to be back in the room where she spent most of her teenage years. The room was cool. Rays of sunlight peeped into the room through the window. She sat up, maintaining a still posture for a few seconds. She gathered the strength to stand, then walked to the bathroom. She checked herself in the mirror, her face was puffy and unsmiling. She turned on the tap, rinsed her mouth, picked her toothbrush from the rack and applied some toothpaste to it. She brushed her teeth aggressively, as if the action could scrub away her feelings of frustration. She rinsed her mouth, and then her face, then positioned her toothbrush carefully in the rack. She took another glance at herself in the mirror. Her face was more relaxed now.

She got back to the room to arrange her bed. 

“Knock knock”.

“Andrea, your dad calls for you”, Madam Amelia’s voice called from outside.

“Just a minute”, Andrea replied.

Andrea took a deep breath, satisfied with how neat her bed looked. She smoothed her nightdress down her thighs and brushed her hair with her palms. Her heart heavy with uncertainty, she left her room to join her dad in the living room.

He sat relaxed on his recliner, positioned right in front of the window, a glass of water placed on a wooden stool beside him. He was flipping through some files on the table in front of him when Andrea arrived. He adjusted his glasses.

“Good morning dad”, she greeted him and took a seat on the couch closest to him. 

No response.

She sighed. He closed the files, sat upright to face Andrea.

He began, “our business is tied closely to Lucas'. They own the biggest financial institution in America.” His voice was firm. 

“We have joint investments, shared assets, and contracts to seal. Getting married to Daniel is the only way we can protect what we’ve built.”

Her stomach turned, but she managed to maintain a calm face.

“If you couldn’t save your mother, prove yourself by protecting your family’s legacy.” His eyes focused on her.

The sentence pierced through her like she was stabbed. Anger, disgust and grief were fighting for space within her. She opened her mouth in an attempt to talk, she closed it again. 

“Fine.” 

It wasn’t fine at all. Her voice was cold. She wished she could do something about the situation. If only her mother were alive.

She stood up to leave but was stopped by her father’s statement.

“Call Daniel. You will be a wife soon. You can’t keep acting like a kid.”

She didn’t say a word. She left for her room.

One week later, Stephanie’s apartment.

Andrea chewed on the last spoonful in silence. She carried her plate to the sink to wash it. The water ran cool over her fingers; she scrubbed the plate clean till it could make a squeak, rinsed it and set it carefully in the rack. 

A covered pot waited on the cooker. It held the food she had prepared earlier, ready for when her best friend would return from work.

She patted her hands dry with the napkins hanging freely on the cabinet’s handle. She heaved a sigh of relief—the kitchen was squeaky clean. 

Her phone vibrated continuously against the wooden table in the kitchen. Her attention quickly shifted to the phone. She picked it up to see who it was. “Daniel.” She swiped to answer.

“Hey Drea. Your dad and I spoke.” His voice seemed calm. “I heard you’re back in town”, he added.

She looked up at the ceiling, inhaled, exhaled.

He continued, “Let’s meet at the Brooklyn bar by 4 pm today.”

“Okay.”

“See you there.” The call disconnected.