Around somewhere between reinvestigating the Keddie Cabin Murders for her paper and scrubbing a stranger's toilet, an auburn red-haired girl received a phone call.
While it was a more common occurrence than any of her classmates would think, this time, she was left feeling bereft of any joy.
'Hello, am I speaking to Alice Harrison?'
"Yes," she said in a sweeter voice, in case it was a potential customer for her self-employed home cleaning service. "Who am I speaking to?"
"My name is Joan from Golden Clover Oncology Outpatient Center. We've been trying to call you for the past few hours, but we haven't managed to get a response. Have you received any of our voicemails?"
"I haven't received anything," she said, frustration filtering into her tone. "What number are you calling me at?"
The voice at the end of the line rattled off a number, and her stomach sank.
"That's an old number," she said quietly, being reminded that she changed phone number after her undefeated landlord who continued to harass her for money. Well, she couldn't really fault him, considering she and her mother moved out without notice after not paying five months rent.
"It's okay," Joan from the Outpatient Center said soothingly, despite the bad news he delivered. "We just want to inform you that your mother's cancer relapsed two months ago. She needs better treatment as soon as possible, but it will be costly."
"No…"
It wasn't supposed to go like this.
See, Alice didn't think she'd ended up biting her lips so hard it drew blood on the uncomfortable facility chair while her mother was laying on the operation table. That was not how she imagined her twenty-two birthday would go.
Tipping her head back with six cans of discounted cheap beers, sure, that was pretty good to take her mind off the Juvenile Delinquency test she busted last week. Or, throwing her kitchen knife on the wall with her runaway father and her cheating ex-boyfriend from high school's face plastered on it, heck yes.
But, not this frightening loneliness.
Regardless, that was what happened. However, the worst was yet to come.
Despite being the best in class, Alice could not argue that studying Criminology had nothing to do with medicine. Therefore, Alice did not think twice when her mother said that her cough, exhaustion, and weight loss were from the double work.
The insurance her mother got was not going to cover the cancer treatment. So was the money Alice got from hours of waitressing in the diner three blocks away from her crappy apartment. But the tip was especially good tonight, that she thought she deserved a drink or two before she came home to her mother's sick face.
With that selfishness showing itself in her mind, Alice found herself sipping the cheapest drink in the hottest night club in the city – Blackjack Shot. Soon, varying boys looked her up and down, trying to make eye contact. At least, they didn't openly stare at her nicely-shaped butts.
Well, she couldn't help being beautiful. After wrestling over gruelling unsolved cold cases all day and acting tough in front of old jerks at the diner, boys still tried to get into her pants.
For example, a boy with cropped hair and curving tattoos peeking from his V-neck strolled in her sight. Confident, with a crooked smile and swag, while four other boys silently cheered behind him. She wondered if they had to draw lots.
The tattooed boy, having rolled his long sleeves to his forearm, slid a lovely glass of orange colored drink, with an actual slice of orange on the rim. On the other hand, he was grasping a tumbler of whiskey on the rock. Talk about sexism, if she had to say it herself.
"A drink for a pretty girl," he said as a preamble.
"I don't do sex on the beach," she eyed the offending object, scooting away from his bad breath.
"Playing hard to catch, huh?"
"And I don't play," Alice added, finishing the drink she ordered. Blue eyes flicked to the area down the tattooed boy's hips. "Playing is only for little boys."
Somehow, over the heavy thumping of the bass, the four cheerleaders behind the tattooed boy cackled at his failure. Perhaps, if the colourful scattering lights didn't hinder anyone's view, they would see her freckles and lessen her beauty level. If only.
Smirking to herself, Alice slithered to the stairs, looking over the dance floor like a mighty Goddess, where people gave in to the trance and worldly ecstasy.
And so, this was where the story unintentionally began.
There was Alice Harrison, who really just wanted a night out and a fleeting time for herself; nothing more. There was Cassius Fenrich, smelling of high quality weed and expensive liquor, innocently getting stoned in the private booth.
And there was Ashton Knights, who thought that his future boss was being oddly coy about the whole company succession thing and his grandfather's impossible rules, but figured that taking the initiative would be good for his CV.
There was no need to explain the mechanical details, but when the sun came up, Alice Harrison rushed to get her clothes – which was rather humiliating, since her new pair of bra was around a man's wrist – and praying to whatever God was in control these days that she'd never meet the man she slept with again.
She also realized that she had to stop by the store for morning pills. She certainly wasn't going to spend the next few months not enjoying the would-be growing bump in her stomach.
In her opinion, she should not give birth to a child she did not remember making with a stranger.
Case, of course, was having no such thoughts, too drowsy with all that monstrosity he consumed last night to realize what the red-haired girl implied. However, he was wondering if he had time for a drink to cure his hangover. His phone had been ringing since ten minutes ago, most likely caused by his panicking secretary who had to reschedule his meetings today.
There were two possible scenarios for this story's continuity.
The first, Alice got bulletproof morning pills that even if Case's seeds were powerful ones, they wouldn't matter.
The second, less likely to happen, was that the universe pulled a joke. Because, honestly, if Alice was not pregnant with Case's child, then, there wouldn't be a story to be told in the first place, would it?
That being said, it was a perfect opportunity to review –
1. To be the successor and CEO of FK Group, Case must marry a woman.
That woman turned out to be none other than the last person he had a drunken one-night stand with.
2. In the span of one year, the mother must have his child to ensure that their family would last.
Easy peasy. It was already taken care of. No need to wait for a year. To say the least.
3. They have to live in his grandfather's childhood house.
Now, that particular last rule was the very thing that spelled Trouble worthy of capital T, in Case's rightful opinion.