ONE

WE HAVE AN INTERACTIVE COMMENT SECTION, JOIN IN IF YOU DARE 😈

~~~~

Ah, there she is - Cara Green, sitting as still as a statue. Anyone who knows Cara would know that stillness is not her natural state, but her present predicament calls for it.

She is sitting comfortably on a leather chair which should already have her butt frame sculpted on it given the fact it is her go-to chair when visiting. Cara got her limbs sprawled out, back firmly pressed into the seat, and left hand resting lazily on the armrest. Her right hand is propping up her chin, while her teeth chew on her black nails. She's fidgety, adjusting her position every now and then - probably from trying to hold in all that nervous energy.

You see, two weeks ago, Cara got a call that shattered her heart. Not that boy leaving you heartbreak, but the heartbreak of knowing you might lose the person that brings you ice cream and suggest you egg his car. Her mom, Brianna Green, is a force to be reckoned with - a superhero in her own right. At 53, she's what the cool kids these days would call "lit" - she's got a wild, unconventional way of thinking that's rubbed off on Cara. Independent, strong-willed, funny, a total psycho and most of all, a person with a good heart. But at this moment, Cara is not feeling independent.

Cara's late father would always tell her that she was exactly like her mum in terms of character, he would say, "Attitude like your mama but a face like mine."

Martin Green was a fire-fighter, he died in the line of duty five years ago leaving Cara to experience her first heartbreak.

She's staring intently at the heart monitor, realizing just how fragile life can be. That machine represents everything that's keeping her mom alive, and the thought of it stopping terrifies her. Suddenly, the sound of the door creaking open snaps Cara back to reality.

The test results are out.

This is the last place Dr Andrew wants to be, mostly because he is frightened of Cara.

Why?

Cara continuously teases him about her imaginary sexcapades with him in his office. In Cara's defence, it was fun to tease him, it helped her pass time plus the poor guy is always mortified.

His facial expressions are everything.

That is why he didn't even need to talk, Cara can see that her mum's condition has gotten really bad from his shaky hands, the sweat running down his face and his feet planted in one position.

"How bad is it?" Cara asks, her voice shaking.

"S-she needs surgery, soon."

Cara falls back on the chair trying to process the new information. Everything is happening so fast.

Dr Andrew on the other hand didn't expect his announcement to go this smoothly, so he isn't going to ruin it by comforting her. He slowly backs away, leaving Cara to the dreadful news that her mum is dying.

Brianna always hated the word "cancer", most of her friends fought the sickness and lost. As dramatic as Brianna is, she would rather die in a club while living her life to the fullest, than being trapped with heart monitors, tubes and an oxygen mask. If she can see herself right now, she will throw up.

She withheld the information from Cara as long as she could. But two weeks ago she broke down and ended up in the hospital, there was no hiding it anymore.

Ovarian cancer, within the span of two weeks, Cara knew all she needs to know about it, which is surprising because Cara is not the book type. It's not like it helps, what her mum really needs is money.

The heart monitor, the treatments and everything are already too much for a bartender at Geisel's, now surgery? That is above her.

Cara stands up again, feeling the strength coming back to her legs as she walks up to her superhero, who is the one currently in need of saving.

"Hey mum," she whispers, removing strands of brown hair covering her pale face. Cara envied her mum's hair, brown, shiny and how it beautifully falls down her shoulders, compared to the wild curly hair Cara has.  As much as she hates her curls, Cara loves herself; some may say she is self-absorbed.

They are not wrong.

Cara stares at how beautiful her mum is despite everything, she looks so peaceful in her sleep.  She lets out a low laugh, already imagining jokes her mum would say, she will definitely tease Dr Andres too.

"I won't let you die." Cara's words are more of an assurance to herself than a promise to Brianna.  Tears welling up in her eyes giving her a blurry vision, she cannot handle seeing her mum this frail, in a white ugly hospital gown with all this life support attached to her.

Cara leans forward, pressing her lips against her mother's warm forehead in a gentle peck. She lingers for a moment, savoring the fleeting contact before reluctantly pulling away and returning to her seat. As she reaches for her leather jacket, she can't help but recall the sundress her mother had given her during Easter that she intended to wear today.

Cara is currently in faded ripped jeans, a crop top, and sneakers are a far cry from the elegance of the sundress.

Determined to find the money she needs, Cara paces the hospital corridor, her thoughts consumed by brainstorming. Her mind flits from one idea to the next, considering everything from organ donation to selling her eggs. But each idea is met with the same conclusion: Mama won't approve.

Cara's imagination runs wild as she finds her self outside the hospital entrance, lost in thought. She doesn't even realize she's standing there like a creep, lost in her own world.

Cara hears a frail voice behind her and turns to see an elderly woman patiently waiting with her hand outstretched towards the door handle. Realizing she's obstructing the woman's way, Cara quickly steps aside and holds the glass door open. She winces as pain shoots through her aching hands.

The elderly woman shuffles slowly inside, her body bent with age, and Cara watches impatiently as she makes her way in. When the woman finally reaches her destination, Cara breathes a sigh of relief and releases the door. As the woman hobbles away with a grateful smile, Cara is left alone with her thoughts.

But then she sees it, just a few feet away - her beloved motorbike, parked and waiting for her like a faithful steed. A glimmer of hope flickers in Cara's eyes. It's not a perfect solution to her problems, but it's a start. And at least she won't have to sell one of her organs.

Cara stares at her trusty steed: her black-as-night motorcycle. It's been in the family for ages, and it's got a story to tell.  Martin Green was on this bike when he met Brianna, and Brianna may or may not have stopped to listen to what Martin had to say because of that cool bike. Cara waited to get this bike from her dad; she even had to reject her mum's truck which was to be given to her at 16.

It wasn't a hard choice, the car was horrible.

Cara finally got the motorbike when she was 18, and she was the happiest girl in the world, the confidence it brings to her is addictive. Like a junkie to their fix. she is finding it hard to let it go, selling an organ didn't sound bad anymore.

Well, she isn't going to make a decision standing in front of St Rose hospital, she needs to clear her head. She opens up her leather jacket and throws it over her shoulder, struggling to wear it.

The jacket is small for her now, yet another thing Cara has to get rid of but won't.

She shakes out her luscious curls, letting them flow free in the wind, and sets her sights on her bike parked across the street.

Just as she's about to cross, a snooty Range Rover comes barreling out of nowhere, colliding with her precious motorcycle and sending it crashing to the ground. Cara is frozen in place, shell-shocked. "What the hell just happened?"

The culprit peels off into the distance, leaving Cara to simmer in her own rage.

And just like that, the fuse is lit. Cara's got murder on the mind. She sprints across the street to inspect the damage, cursing under her breath at how heavy the bike is. The scratch on it is massive, and Cara knows someone's gotta pay for this.

Without a second thought, Cara hops on her bike, grabbing the keys from her back pocket and revs the engine before racing after the soon to be dead man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the impact jolts Marco's nerves. He's only been on the job for a day, but already the weight of his boss's reputation looms over him like a dark cloud. Marco's mind races as he tries to piece together what he's hit, hoping it isn't anything important. The stakes are high, with his pregnant wife and triplets on the way, he can't afford to lose this job.

"What was that?"

"It's nothing sir."

Alexander Black, the notorious business mogul, watches Marco with a calculating gaze, fully aware of the lie dripping from his lips. But Alexander's own problems are weighing heavily on his mind, distracting him from the situation at hand. A scandal with his ex-girlfriend, Liza Woods, threatens to unravel his carefully crafted image. His publicist has urged him to take control of the narrative, but Alexander is too consumed by disbelief to act.

Liza is a force to be reckoned with, and Alexander knows it. He could use his power to crush her, but something holds him back.

He hates it.

As they are on their way to his company, he braces himself for the inevitable onslaught of paparazzi waiting outside. His security team is already in position, but Alexander can't shake the feeling that he's in for a rough ride.

Alexander's fingers swipe across his phone screen, his eyes glued to the endless stream of blog posts. Liza's face beams at him, all sweetness and light. It makes him sick to his stomach, but he can't seem to tear his gaze away. The paparazzi are having a field day with their recent breakup, and Alexander knows it's only a matter of time before the rumors and lies reach a fever pitch. Liza thrives on attention like this, he thinks bitterly.

As his car pulls up to the company, he sees the swarm of paparazzi waiting for him, their cameras trained on the front doors. Alexander hesitates, his hand on the door handle. He doesn't want to face them, doesn't want to deal with the endless questions and accusations. But he has a job to do, and he can't let his personal life get in the way of his business.

"Sir, we are here," his driver announces, breaking the tense silence. With a deep breath, Alexander opens the door and steps out into the blinding sunlight.

The paparazzi haven't noticed him yet, their attention focused on the doors of the company. Alexander's security team springs into action, creating a path for him to walk through the sea of flashing cameras. With every step, the pressure mounts, but he forces himself to keep moving.

Liza is a thing of the past, and he has to keep moving forward, no matter how much it hurts. As the rays of sunlight stream in, Alexander steels himself for the battle ahead. There goes nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cara's heart pounds as she twists the throttle, accelerating her motorcycle to its limit. The wind rushes past her, tangling her hair as she weaves through traffic, her focus solely on catching up to the person responsible for the damages.

As she screeches to a halt at the scene, her eyes scan the crowd of onlookers, searching for her target. She parks her motorcycle safely on the corner to prevent further damages from blind lunatics like the one she's chasing after,  her hands trembling with adrenaline and anger.

She spots him just as he begins to exit the car, and without hesitation, Cara charges towards him. But as she stands face to face with the man she's been cursing under her breath, her voice fails her.

Her eyes trace his features, from the tousled midnight black hair that begs to be touched, to the emerald green eyes that capture her attention. His lips are small and perfectly molded to his chiseled face, his jawline carved to perfection. Cara's gaze drops down to his chest, noting the tailored grey suit that accentuates his broad shoulders and strong arms.

He looks sinfully good in this suit as angry as Cara is, she cannot deny it.

Alexander's steady stride falters as he comes to an abrupt stop, halted in his tracks by an unexpected obstacle. A girl, with wild curls cascading down her back, stands before him. Her eyes are fixed on him, unblinking, with an intensity that makes him uneasy.

"You need to get out of my way," he says, trying to push past her, but she stands her ground, unyielding.

For a moment, Alexander wonders if she's part of the paparazzi, a relentless horde that's been hounding him all day.

Alex words snap Cara out of her hypnosis and she mentally scolds herself for staring like an idiot.  That is just a moment of weakness, now she focused on the reason she is in front of the rude man.

"Not a chance," Cara retorts, her voice firm and unyielding. "You ruined my bike, and now you owe me for the damages."

Alexander's confusion is evident as he furrows his brow, trying to make sense of her demand. But before he can say anything, Cara steps closer, her eyes blazing with a fierce determination.

"You're not going anywhere until you pay up," she says, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Alexander sighs in exasperation, feeling his patience wearing thin. He gestures to his security team, silently signaling for them to be on alert. He can't afford to waste any more time with this crazy

woman. The paparazzi will soon catch up to him, and he needs to be long gone before then.

Cara's frustration boils over as she grits her teeth and locks eyes with Alexander. "Hey," she growls, "look at me while I'm talking to you." The craziness bubbles just beneath the surface, threatening to burst forth at any moment.

Alexander scans the crowd, searching for a way out. He spots a woman with a camera and knows he has to act fast. Without hesitation, he pushes past Cara, determined to make his escape. The raving lunatic is quickly swallowed up by the throngs of people, lost in the chaos.

Cara yells after him, but it's too late. The crowd descends upon Alexander, showering him with questions and demands. "Liza says you're on a break, is it true?" one voice shouts. Cara frowns, confused. Who the hell is Liza?

She knows she has to act quickly if she wants to catch him before Mr Popular disappears. The seconds slip away, the opportunity to speak with him slipping through her fingers.

An idea pops, not the best but Cara never has a good idea.

"Haaa..." she lets out a loud cry, her hands flying to her face in a show of desperation. No one pays her any attention at first, so she cries out again, louder this time, until finally, she has their attention.

The flash of cameras turns away from Mr. Popular and swarms towards Cara like a flock of hungry birds. A microphone shoves under her mouth, and she holds back a smile as she knows it's her turn to shine. She considers herself Oscar-worthy, and for good reason. Cara has a talent for crying on cue and putting on a performance that could rival any Hollywood star.

Her hands clasped in front of her, tears stream down her face like a river, but her gaze remains fixed on Alexander. He is the one she craves attention from, the one she wants to hurt. The first question from the crowd rings out, as she prepares to put on one hell of a show.

Without thinking, she points a finger at Alexander, about to enter his company, and makes a statement that shocks everyone.

"This douche got me pregnant and won't take responsibility," she says, her voice filled with anger and accusation. The crowd erupts into a frenzy, but all Cara can focus on is Alexander's frozen expression. He looks shocked, but more than anything, he looks furious.

As the realization of what she has just done hits her, Cara can't help but wonder what she has gotten herself into.