I look at the address I hurriedly jotted down as the cab parks outside a beautiful suburban apartment. I step off the cab slightly thrown off by the building that Fiona lives in; I expected a more subtle place to be honest.

The front entrance leads into a pristine marble lobby with a reception area and a well furnished waiting space. I approach the reception and ask for Fiona's apartment number.

"Miss, that is confidential. I am sorry." The reception man says.

"May you tell her I am here?" I am improvising by this point. I don't want this to fail at any cost.

He barely agrees. He rings her reluctantly but that's as well for me. Fiona picks up and they start talking.

"Yes Ma'am." He replies to something she says. "There is a Miss-" he looks at me quizzically.

"Yvonne Madris." I interject.

"-Yvonne Madris here to see you." He looks at me as she replies with an expression of pity.

"Very well madam." He answers and puts down the phone. "The Madam doesn't wish to meet. She says 'she doesn't have what you want'" He says with air quotes on the phrase.

"May I talk to her myself?" I plead. Fiona's refusal to talk to me leads me into a dead end before I even start.

"That's against protocol. I am sorry." He says with finality. "Have a good day, miss." He says pretty much telling me to fuck off.

I hail another cab to my apartment. I enter the house and flop on the sofa helplessly. Just the thought of never finding out the truth about my mother has me depressed.

I get up and go to my room. I open the last drawer of my bedside table and remove the fake bottom piece. The files I left in there are still intact. I add on Fiona's article as well and close it properly again.

It's too early for me to be home so I take a refreshing bath to unwind my body. I get out of the tub dripping wet. I walk to the sink where I left my towel and dry off. I sneak a glance in the mirror and I am shocked by how bad I look. There are faint bags under my eyes. My eyes look old. I towel dry my hair quickly and put on snug joggers and a loose t-shirt. I resolve to go to the spa someday soon.

I walk to the living room and turn on the tv. I watch the news for a while. Reports about the plummeting economy get boring quickly. I resort to watching reruns of The Office.

The door opens when I am halfway into the season. I look up when Carter enters the living room, his shadow falling over me.

He raises an eyebrow at the TV. I just shrug in response. He leaves the room while shaking his head. He puts his briefcase down on the table and enters the kitchen without changing clothes.

"What do you want to eat?" He asks. That being the first thing he has said to me since morning.

"Noodles." I answer automatically. Whenever I am down, that is my go to food. I blame Chen for that.

Carter starts rummaging through the fridge and extracts the ingredients. His shirt looks like it's going to burst.

I turn my attention back to the show. "You should remove that shirt." I say out loud. I hear him chuckle but he doesn't look up from the spring onions he is cutting.

I become conscious of the implication of my statement. My face flushes instantly. Silence reigns after that shameless declaration. The tension between us doesn't stop crackling though. It's like there is something pulling me to gawk at Carter and probably do more. I resist as much as I can.

"Shit." He curses. I turn to see what happened. I find his shirt splattered with a brown liquid.

"I told you so." I say haughtily. He looks at me with annoyance. I look away unfazed.

I hear something fall to the floor with a squish. I see the brown tainted shirt resting on the floor by Carter's feet. My eyes go wide. I look up only to meet a bare chest. I didn't think he'd seriously consider my suggestion.

"Should I get you another shirt?" I ask while getting up to do it.

"Why?" He asks, already enjoying my discomfort.

"I'll bring it." I resolve without waiting for his opinion. I enter the guest room and I am instantly hit by his scent. The room feels different too even though nothing substantial changed in there.

I open the closet and find many shirts, tshirt, coats, you name it. It's like he has lived here for years. What does that say about his duration here? I'd rather not think about it.

I pick out a bright pink graphic t-shirt just to mess with him and take that. He scowls when he sees it. "You're kidding me." He says with disbelief.

"No. It's cute." I reply with amusement.

"I hate you, you know that." He says and takes the t-shirt from me.

"Not in so many words." I reply with a satisfied smile on my face.

He eases it down his torso and glares back at me. I give him a thumbs up and a toothy grin. I return to my seat. "You look horrible." Carter says after a stretch of silence.

It's my turn to look at him incredulously. I let it pass though since it's true. "I am tired, that's all."

"Are they overworking you?" He asks with concern.

"No. My new job is just so draining." I reply.

"New job? Were you promoted?" He asks.

"No. In fact I was demoted."

"Why?" Oh God, is this an interrogation or something?

"Because I was tainting the company image." I reply harshly. It's too fresh a wound to be prodding it, but someone here can't seem to cease.

"You should have sued them." He supplies. Of course I thought of that.

"And who would pay my bills?" I ask matter of factly.

"I would." He replies.

"Cut the crap Carter." I shift in the seat so that I am no longer looking at him.

His hand under my chin turns my head to look at him. "I am serious." He says. Why is he insisting?

I can smell the spices on him. I notice a blob of sauce on his thumb. Without thinking, I pull it to my mouth and lick it clean. The sauce tastes so good. I want more instantly.

I meet Carter's eyes which have turned a tropical green. His gaze is piercing.

"I wouldn't let you." I say and let go of his hand. I stand up and make my way past him. His hand snakes onto my waist holding me in place.

"I am not asking, Tara." His tone is furious.

I remove his arm from around me, "We are not discussing this." I reply and enter the kitchen. I spot the delicious sauce and scoop a spoonful to eat as the noodles get ready.

Carter refuses to give me a second scoop; he is grumpy because I shut him down. I sit down and scroll on my phone ignoring him.

He sets a plate in front of me and takes his seat across from me. He is still in a mood. I put down my phone and look at him amazed.

"Don't tell me you're mad." I muse.

"I am not." He replies without meeting my eye.

"Mhmm." I intone. "Your face disagrees." He looks at me then. I take that opportunity. I pull the stupidest face I can.

He doesn't laugh. He looks at me with concern.

"You're such a rock. Laugh." I say dejectedly.

"You look like you are constipated." He refutes. I bend over laughing.

I straighten up after a while. I spot a smile on his lips. "Yay. I see a smile." I exclaim. He tries to hide it but fails miserably. We take our meal in silence. I am lost in my thoughts and so is he.

"A penny for your thoughts?" He asks out of the blue.

I snap back to reality. "It would take a lot more than a penny."

He is taken aback. "A dollar?"

"I am playing with you." I give a small laugh. I get up front he table and take my dishes. I head to bed afterwards. I am exhausted from how the day went.

My phone straddles me awake. I open my eyes to the utter darkness. It's not even morning yet. It continues ringing. I contemplate smashing into a wall and sleeping again but that would be stupid.

I look at the clock and see it's 3:17 am. Who calls at this hour? De Laure's name in the caller ID sobers me up. I sit up and answer the phone. "What is it?" I ask expectantly.

He hesitated before answering. My excitement wanes in that silent moment. "Tara. I think this whole fiasco with your father goes deeper than we had anticipated. It is filthy, do you want to get mixed up in it?" His voice is calm, almost sympathizing.

I take a moment to respond but regardless my answer is the same. "I want to find out the truth for my mom's sake."

"Very well." He says before his usual business voice returns, "I found interesting things about your parents." He proceeds to tell me.

I hang up with a new lead to follow. Fiona refused to talk to me but she is not the end of the rope. I wait for the sun to rise but it takes too long.