Hate You, Love You. - Chapter 126

Jason

Why is she protecting him?

What alliance could they probably have for her to be so tight-lipped?

I hate to sound like the jealous boyfriend but anyone in my shoes would raise an eyebrow when their girlfriend is willingly covering up for a guy who clearly likes her. I gave her an opportunity to tell the truth but she denied it. I wanted to ask her yesterday if Patricia had been messing with her but I was too hurt to think straight. I know she may have her reasons, but she’s the one preaching about honesty. It won’t hurt to know why a cop is out here in Bridgewood posing as a high school student.

After a meet up with Ryan at the base, I turn off the ignition of the Veyron and sigh. I skipped school today because I had an issue to take care of. Turns out the Tollido’s, led by none other than Jerry, are trying to screw me over. Ryan caught one of them trying to outwit the security at the base, no doubt with the intent to steal our merchandise and sell it at a higher rate at the black market. If I was anything like the mafias, I would have hunted him down and killed him, but I decided to let it go. I have more pressing issues on my mind than hunting down a rat.

The next time I catch anyone though, I won’t be lenient.

Approaching the steps of the mansion, I walk in, my book bag in tow and smell what I assume is Nana Lily’s oven fresh bread. Mum loves bread, and she especially loves Nana Lily’s so it often smells like a bakery in here.

”Jason, is that you?”

”It’s me, mum.”

I see her sitting in the main living room, her laptop on her lap as she’s aggressively tapping on the keys. Dean is sitting opposite her, reading a newspaper, which is a first because he’s usually holed up in his study.

Actually, what’s a first is the fact that they’re both home at the same time. Apart from when they host events or are being invited to events, their schedules aren’t usually in sync. One is home when the other isn’t or they’re both not home at the same time. I don’t know how they do it, but they’ve managed to make the marriage work for ten plus years now. I haven’t seen them so much as fight in front of me or Patricia and mum speaks highly of him.

”How was school, son?” Dean asks, not taking his eyes away from the newspaper.

”It was great,” I answer even though I didn’t attend. ”School was fun.”

That makes mum stop tapping away on her laptop and her blue eyes look at me in suspicion. ”As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never said school is fun.”

That’s because you don’t know me as well as you think you do. If you know me, you’d know that something is fundamentally wrong in this house. Can’t they feel the friction in this house? Patricia and I have literally been playing a game of cat and mouse. I don’t know who’s the cat or mouse, but we’ve definitely been walking on eggshells around each other.

I’ve been watching her very closely and she knows this.

”Mum, I’m allowed to be happy about school,” I deadpan. ”Besides, I’ll be graduating in a few weeks and I’ll be off to college.”

”Speaking of college, you have chosen one, right?” Dean asks pointedly. ”You have to take over my law firm once I retire.”

Dean’s not bad. I respect the man a lot because he raised me and treats me like his son, but what I don’t love is the pressure. I have one option when it comes to the degree I have to pursue: business. No if’s or but’s about it.

He has stated his position in very clear terms: I’m willing to foot your bill for college, all expenses paid, only if you study business as the first degree and then go to law school after. Not just any law school, Harvard Law School.

He went to Harvard, so it’s only natural I follow in his footsteps.

He tried to push this agenda down Patricia’s throat but she ended up rebelling by moving to Paris and being a model. Prior to her move, she would model for Heather Beauty and was even a brand ambassador at some point so Dean let it slide because he knew he lost her. She wasn’t interested in all that.

I’m the next best candidate to run his law firm.

”Of course,” I give him a tight-lipped smile. ”I’ve sent in my applications through the school but I’m yet to get a response.”

The other thing about my parents: they believe everything I tell them. In that aspect, they’re naïve because teenagers lie. I’ve kept a lot of secrets from them over the years and with my track record, I’m sure I’m getting a special seat in hell next to the devil himself.

He nods and mum gives me a full blown smile. ”That’s great, honey. Keep me up to speed with the remaining details.”

”Sure, mum.”

Deciding that this conversation needs a shift in conversation, I ask. ”Is Nana Lily making bread again?”

”She’s in the kitchen, and yes, she did make bread an hour ago. They taste amazing.”

I don’t know why my mum has an obsession with bread. It’s quite comical because she reminds me of Oprah Winfrey when she did an interview and revealed that she loves bread. I don’t tale a whole lot of carbs, athlete’s diet, but I have to hand it to Nana Lily, her homemade bread is good.

”I’ll go freshen up first.” I point to the stairs and mum dismisses me. Releasing the breath I didn’t know I was holding, I walk to the hallway and approach the first door on the right.

”What the fuck?”

My door is opened.

I’m very meticulous when it comes to certain things affecting me, one of them being my privacy. I locked the door before I left this morning, so whoever broke in to my room forced the door open or got a spare key from who knows where.

The only people living in the main house are mum, Dean, Patrica and Nana Lily. The rest of the staff stay in the staffs quarter-an extension at the back of the property.

Mum and Dean would never go into my room without my permission, neither would Nana Lily or the maids without my authorization.

The only person I can think of is Patricia.

Cautiously approaching the unlocked door, I examine the knob-it was forced in like I suspected.

”Unbelievable,” I seethe. Entering into the room fully, it looks like nothing is amiss. It looks as clean as I left it but I feel that something is off. If my suspicions are right, Patricia came in here and stole something.

If this is her way of getting revenge on me, then the joke is on her because she’s not the smartest criminal on the planet. A white paper is situated on my bed as I’m about to drop my bag and I pick it up.

Catch me if you can.

What in the world?

I installed security cameras all over my room because of her. I did that after she confessed that she killed Vladmir-or hired someone to do it. My gut told me that the security cameras would one day prove to be useful and this just so happens to be that day.

I also installed a password protect lock on my closet. It looks like she tries to break in to that too but was unsuccessful. Scanning my thumb print, the double doors to the walk in closet opens and I briskly make my way to the desktop in the centre. Playing the footage from hours ago, I see a figure walk into my room.

”Just like I suspected,” I muse. ”It’s her.”

I recognize that signature red hair anywhere.

”What does she want?”

I watch the footage again and watch her as she’s looking for something: she checks under my bed, scatters my books on my reading table, tries to break into my closet and haphazardly tosses my covers on the floor.

”What are you looking for, Patricia?” I speed the videos till I watch her hand hold something-my gun.

”Shit. Shit. Shit.” I whisper yell. I own a thirty-two caliber, purchased it from a drug dealer in the black market a year and a half ago. I couldn’t actually purchase a gun using legal means because I was underaged and it’s too much paperwork.

Playing the video back, I see where she got it from-my lower chest drawer.

”How the fuck did she know I have a gun?” I never told her and I don’t know where she even got a revolver from.

After grabbing that, she arranges everything the way she saw it, puts the note on my bed and exits my room, leaving the door ajar.

This is bad.

Patricia has in her possession a revolver and a thirty-two caliber. She’s crazy and she’s capable of doing anything. She killed Bob. She slashed Mel’s tyres. She-

I know her house address.

I know where her mum works at

I know where she works.

I know where her sister schools.

”Fuck, Princess.”

I rush out of the walk in closet, my heart beating a mile a minute. I knock on her bedroom door.

No response.

I knock again, louder this time, but she doesn’t answer. I twist and turn the door knob but it doesn’t budge open.

Deciding that she’s not home, I rush down the stairs in a panic. ”Mum, where’s Patricia?”

”She left about twenty minutes before you came in,” Mum responds as she drops her laptop beside her. ”Is she in trouble? What happened because you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

”Did she say where she was going?”

”Only that she was going to see a friend.”

Shit!

Patricia mentioned to me that she and Mel had agreed to meet up for a coffee date. Back when she told me, I didn’t think too much of it because I thought Patricia was expanding her social circle. Now that I know what I know, she’s a threat to Mel and her family.

”Mum, I’m afraid Patricia would do something terrible.” That grabs Dean’s attention. ”What do you mean? You’re speaking in parables.”

I grab a jacket from the rack, my parents hot on my heels. Making my way outside, I open the doors to the Veyron praying that I’m not too late. Before I step in, a firm hand grabs my arm. ”You are not leaving here until you tell us what’s going on?” Dean barks.

”What’s going on is that your daughter is fucking unstable and she’s a mad woman. If I don’t stop her now, she’d end up killing my love.” I seethe. Shrugging Dean’s hands away from me, I turn to mum who is looking more confused than a tourist in a new city. ”If I’m not back in an hour, call the police. I mean it.”

Mel, I hope you’re safe.