The Phone Call

Beep beep beep—

Sam swung his arm to the side and felt around for his phone which he usually left on the bedside table.

Beep beep beep—

"Argh," he groaned and held his head in pain. The beeping sound seemed to reverberate against his brain, creating a ring in his ear. 

He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. His surroundings were pitch-black. Did his alarm malfunction? It was clearly the middle of the night...

The beeping continued and he looked around in confusion. Not too far away, on the floor, there was something glowing. He climbed out of bed reluctantly, walked over, and picked it up — it was his phone. He switched off the alarm, sat on the ground, and sighed...

Finally...the sound was gone...

But, all of a sudden, his eyes opened wide and he tried to look around the dark room. Of course, he couldn't see anything except for a small line of light from underneath the blockout curtains. He crawled over, threw the curtains open, and shielded his eyes from the blinding sun outside.

His alarm was right after all...

It was already 10am in the morning...

But...

"Wait a minute... Where am I?" Sam asked himself as he looked around the unfamiliar room. This was not his hotel room, and even the view outside was on the opposite end of the Las Vegas Strip. How did he end up here? The last thing he remembered was dancing at the club with Dr. Brown, Sumi, and Tiffany.

At that moment, he realized he felt a little cold and glanced down in shock. 

He wasn't wearing any clothes!!!

He quickly stepped away from the window in case anyone saw him from outside. Fortunately, he was quite high up and there was no building directly opposite.

"Where are my clothes?" he gasped in a panic as he began to search the room. Finally...he located them strewn on the floor of the bathroom.

[What the hell happened last night?] 

He furrowed his brows and tried to remember what he had done, but he had a hangover and his head was too sore. As he put his clothes back on, he did a lap around the room to make sure there was no one else in the room with him. 

"Phew," he sighed, "there's no one else."

At least, if there was no one else in the room, there was less of a chance that he had done something regretful.

Or so he thought...

...until he spotted three square packets lying on the floor.

[Is that...what I think it is?]

He walked over carefully like something was going to jump out and attack him. He then gently picked up one of the packets and his eyes opened wide in surprise.

He was a mature adult, so he naturally knew what this was.

It was a condom packet!

And it was empty...

All three were empty...

What the hell happened in this room?

Did he use those condoms with someone? All three?

All of a sudden, a frightening thought came to his mind...

Did he use those condoms with a woman? Or a man...?

...

Not too far away, in another hotel, Maya had woken up not long ago and was also holding her phone in her hand. However, she wasn't holding it because of an alarm, she was holding it because she had an important call to make.

She searched the number that Noah saved for her, took a deep breath, and pressed the call button.

After a few short rings, a woman answered, "Hello?"

Maya was flustered for a second. Normally, a business or organization would answer with their name, so she wasn't sure if she had called the right number.

"Errr...is this a psychiatric hospital? I'm looking for a patient by the name of Nova Thomas..." she said politely.

The woman on the other end seemed a little surprised, "Oh, yes...Nova... May I ask who's calling?"

"I am a friend of her brother's, Noah. I just wanted to speak to her," Maya said.

"Oh...she's gone for her daily checkup. Do you mind calling back later?" the woman replied.

Call back later? Maya couldn't wait. "Actually, maybe you can help me," she said.

It wasn't completely necessary to speak to Nova if this woman could answer her questions.

"How's her recovery coming along? Do you think she's better?" Maya asked.

The woman on the other end cleared her throat and answered, "She's doing really well. I think she can be taken off her medication soon."

"Oh really?" Maya gasped in surprise. "Has she, by chance, left the hospital recently? And does she have access to her mobile phone?"

"No, we have 24-hour surveillance. She has not left and she has not used any phone..." the woman quickly replied.

Maya was both surprised and pleased with the woman's answers. If Nova was still in the hospital, then she posed absolutely no threat to Lucas or Delilah. Perhaps, her sister's accident was really just an accident.

But...if that was the case...

Then who sent Lucas those threatening messages?

It had to be someone that had access to Nova's phone; otherwise, the caller ID wouldn't have shown up on Lucas' phone...

There was only one person that Maya could think of...

Was it Noah...? Had he been threatening Lucas? But why?

And if it was really him...

Then was Lucas in danger?

She immediately tried to call Delilah, hoping that she could contact Lucas for her, but there was no answer.

Losing her patience, she threw on a coat and ran downstairs. She then caught a taxi straight over to Lucas' hotel and ran up to the reception desk. "I'm looking for one of your guests. His name is Lucas Lee," she said in a panic.

The receptionist looked at the woman and shook her head, "I'm sorry, but the details of our guests are completely confidential. If you are looking for someone, I suggest you try to call them."

Maya looked at the woman in frustration. [I would call him if I had his number.]

"Can you help me make the call?" Maya asked.

The woman shook her head again, "Unless you can give me your friend's room number, I cannot do that for you."

Maya furrowed her brows. Why did this woman have to be so difficult? This was an urgent matter.

Just as she was beginning to get flustered, a voice suddenly asked behind her, "Are you looking for Lucas Lee?"

Maya turned around in surprise and looked into the eyes of an Asian man. He seemed to know who she was.

"Miss Yeung, I'm Ryan Yoo..." the man said in a slightly unwelcome tone.