Three day is enough time to regret. He has been ignoring me since and I feel so stupid for how I literally threw myself at him and bore myself to him. He comes home late, leaving too early and making no contact whatsoever. I am not too dumb not to recognize that for what it is.

Despite my growing frustration with him, I can't help feeling childish things whenever he is around; butterflies in my stomach, blushing at his minutest compliments and Somehow wishing to be around me every second of the day. Burning envy grips me when I recall that he had a fiancée before.

So that night, I was assuaging my worries. I was determined to tests the waters and retreat if he rejects me. I would have been hurt, but still it would have been early enough to back out and extinguish the budding feelings. But he kissed me back just as fervently and wanted to take things further, but then retreated worse than he had before. I want to hate him but just the thought of him gives me the heebie jeebies.

I come out of my reverie flustered by these candid confessions. I take a sip of the wine I had with dinner and get up to wash up after myself. I get on a call with De Laure, determined to focus my energy on more important things than worrying about Carter.

"Bonsoir mademoiselle." De Laure chirps in a bubbly mood. His French lilt is more pronounced than ever when he is happy.

"I thought you never do greetings." I reply, my mood gradually getting better.

"Only when I am on the verge of victory." His confidence reassures me. We are filing tomorrow to the Thurgood Marshall United States Courthouse. I know my father will pay the best for the best legal personnel but I trust De Laure's skills and prowess to charm the jury's socks off.

"So what is your professional take on the case?" I ask about getting back to business.

"Currently, it can win a proceeding in court, owing to the media interest it is likely to garner in court and that the testimonies we have are substantial. However, later we will have to need evidence that makes a parallel between the deaths of all those people and your mother and your father's business proceedings, otherwise we would be accusing him of being a successful businessman and the public would slander you in that case." And his credibility as a lawyer would be destabilized. I understand fully what's at stake.

"Let's do it then." I resolve with determination, pumping me up. There is nothing my father can do now to make me back down. Tomorrow morning, the city will be alight. I think with a satisfied smile on my face.

The news reaches me before I even leave my bed. Carter's side of the bed is cold, he left early again today. I get up and pad through the penthouse to the kitchen. A heaping plate of eggs, muffins and fruit salad is waiting for me on the kitchen counter. I peel off the wrapping he put on top to keep it uncontaminated and dig in. I turn on the TV and come face to face with even better headlines than I could have thought up.

"This morning, the daughter of multimillionaire Arthur Bartholomeo Von, Tara Yvonne Madris, filed an incriminating case against her father, including charges of laundering public funds, ordering the murder of multiple people including his won wife who passed away six years ago in whatw as said to be an accident. Manya re calling it a rebellious attempt of Ms. Tara against her father, but she has been out of reach." I turn off the TV when my father appears on the screen walking out of his office building. I can tell he is doing it for the show, since he could have just taken a back exit if he wanted to keep out of the public's eye.

I can only imagine the number of paparazzi at my apartment at this minute waiting for me to give comments. At least here I can find some peace and think things through. As the sun starts to set, I decide to go out. I can't stay cooped up in Carter's house forever just because I don't want to be jostled by the reporters. I still wear an oversized sweater, put on a peculiar dora I find in Carter's closet and the smallest jogger pants I can find in Carter's closet, which still threaten to slide down.

I drive to Chen's place, making sure I am not followed. I take the long way to reach there and double check before exiting the car and getting into the restaurant. Chen welcomes me with a beaming smile. "Long time no see, MeiMei." He says and engulfs me in a hug. Just like when I was younger and used to escape home to come herer, I feel my problem dissipate. I can smell a hint of garlic and a mix of spices on him, a sure sign of a good meal to be delivered.

"I missed this place. I missed your food." I retreat out of his embrace and hurry to a stool at the counter. He returns behind the counter. He makes me a cool pink lemon cocktail. He adds just a pinch of alcohol ever since I told him I am not a child anymore at my twenty second birthday. I take it without complaint. Before long, a steaming plate of dim sum and vegetable filled dumplings sits before me. Before I can take a bite, a familiar face pops up beside me. A smile breaks onto my face.

His brown hair has grown shaggy enough to fall into his eyes but he hasn't looked better. I am surprised to remark how handsome he looks right then and there.

"Mind if I take a seat?" Nathan says, already sitting down. I roll my eyes with good humor. He laughs.

"Long time. Where had you disappeared to?" I set down the pair of chopsticks I had ready to eat, and turn to him.

"I was in LA for work." He smiles a dimple appearing on his left cheek, making me realize yet again how handsome he is.

"Oh. Glad you're back then." I say and trail off.

He glances at the food in front of me, "What are we having?" He asks with interest, picking my chopsticks up.

"Chow Mein and Dumplings. Vegetable dumpling, in case you're vegan." I add as an afterthought.

"How considerate of you. However, I like my meat juicy, if you get my drift." For a second, I wonder if we are still talking about meat.

I chide myself for such thoughts, Get your act together, Tara.

Nathan takes a bite of my food with my chopsticks, while I watch dumbfounded. "Hmm, it's delicious! You should try it." He sets the chopsticks beside me like he expects me to pick them up and use them too. I give him a look. "Let me get you fresh ones." He gets up and heads to the counter. While he is there, I open my phone to read the updates on the case. There isn't much there, honestly.

My father got a great legal team as expected and he said in a press conference that 'Innocent men don't cower from the law' and I agree with him there; he should tremble wherever he is.

"I ordered another round of the same." He says as he hands me the chopsticks. I tear them apart jovially, ready to dig in. The food tastes as good as I remember. It brings with it a hint of nostalgia, I suddenly wish Carter was here so that he could feel the tastes from my childhood too.

Nathan picks some dumplings from time to time too. As he is picking up one juicy dumpling, it explodes, spewing soup and vegetables on his coat and a little goes onto his face. I hurriedly extract a tissue and help him clean up. At the door, I hear a commotion.

In bursts a herd of paparazzi, with their cameras poised snapping pictures of me, that I am sure will end up under incriminating headlines. More so, the awkward position I am in, with a tissue poised wiping Nathan's face. I jump down from my chair and head for the door with my head ducked down. They try to stop me for comment, but I keep my face impassive and pass through. Outside, even more are stationed to get me to talk about the case.

I jump into the nearest cab, parked fortunately close enough to the door to make a clean escape.

"Good evening, Tara." A voice I recognize to be Roger's greets me cheerfully. Talk about leaving the frying pan and falling into the fire. I want to scramble out but the paparazzi are crowding the car trying to get me to make a statement.

"Why are you here?" I ask with annoyance. If he was sent by my father, he better be ready because I won't let him get out of here unscathed.

"To get you wherever you want to go, madam." He responds in a voice so sincere, I wonder if he is an actor by some chance.

"Don't lie to me. I know you have been stalking me." The words hang in the air like a wet cloud. Roger makes no attempt to clear the air. He starts the car and breezes out of the parking spot like I never said anything. "Where are you taking me?" I demand, my voice getting louder.

"The same place I always take you; 2150 Broadway at The Laureate, ma'am." A gasp hitches in my throat. The fact that he can recite my address of the head doesn't help his case.

"I am jumping out. I declare and scoot to the door facing the sidewalk. I try the door but it doesn't budge. "Let me out." I meet his eye through the rearview mirror. He doesn't look one bit fazed.

My mind runs an array of scenarios all of which I am kidnapped and taken into a dark dungeon somewhere and tortured by my father's goons until I fall dead. In all of them, I can clearly see my father's smug face, the deep crease in his cheeks appearing as he flashes me a smirk at finally, having defeated me.