Psychotic Maniac

Chapter 44

Lopez lived in Montclair and shifting to his house was easy as Estella had nothing but a pair of clothes and shoes to take. It was less than a forty-minute ride by car and even less when without traffic.

Edward had been up early in the morning, and Estella wasted no time getting ready. She had showered and then stuffed her bags with her little belongings, hiding the file that was lent by Mrs. Jones. She expected Edward to be the one dropping her off but Carlos was waiting by the car, opening the door for her.

She had looked back, stopped Edward, wishing her for the day he was going to have ahead but refrained from mentioning anything that may give away she knew more than she was letting on. Lastly, she mentioned her mother and her father's upcoming death anniversary to which his response was curt. "Yeah, soon!" and he was gone, leaving her pissed, draining all of the sympathy she developed recently.

The gigantic mansion was exactly the same as her memory had retained when she first visited him. Getting to live with Lopez was a privilege as finding out about her mother would be easier now.

She was setting her clothes in the empty closet when Lopez walked in, in casual attire.

"How was the ride?" he asked, standing by the door. "You should've mentioned you brought a bodyguard."

She cringed and laughed. Carlos wouldn't stop hovering. She refrained from looking outside from the window where Carlos's car was standing guard, on duty. "I'm sorry for the trouble," she said.

"I was kidding." he waved his hand off and moved away from the door toward the hallway. "Let's have breakfast."

She motioned toward the door as soon as she was done with the closet. Fishing out of her room, one of the spare rooms on the second floor, she walked past a handle-locked door, stopping momentarily before catching up with Lopez.

That room belonged to Lopez's daughter, filled with her memories and he preserved every inch of it. The walls bore abstract art, history portraits, and vintage paintings all set around accordingly with the tune of wall and paint coated on them. There was no portrait of him or his family.

"Just so you remember," Lopez began, taking a chair at the dining table. "I won't be around much here. It's a good thing that a bodyguard is here for you."

She sat across from him. "You already have pretty tight security." Lopez's house was secure. "And Carlos may try to jeopardize my plan to find my mom."

"That won't be a problem at all," he stated in a composed voice.

Estella made an attempt to ask for his theory but the cook was next to them, setting a bowl in front of them. A pile of pancakes, maple syrup, raspberries, and a bowl of crunchy granola. She then set the freshly squeezed orange and apple juice on the center of the table.

She clasped her fork and knife and saw Lopez loading more fruits, his plate devoid of syrup.
"I'm diabetic," he answered without her questioning. "The pancakes are already sweet and so are fruits."

She nodded and dug in. "So, you're going to the ceremony at Blake's," she asked after a while.

He shook his head. "It's a private ceremony. Reporters will be more in number than actual people with odes and ballads to sing," he joked, pouring half a glass of juice. "And I have other business."

"Alright," she said. "I'll be staying here all day, then."

"What about that boutique of yours?" he asked. "It still is yours, you know."

She sighed, taking some time to think how to explain. "I guess," she responded. "I was actually planning on making a bargain with Edwards's father in exchange for my mother and our freedom." Estella paused, expelling a tired breath. "But I can't. Not now when I know I'm being played. At least thats my theory after learning all about him and his history."