Chapter 8 Unwelcome Intrusion

The warm morning light filtered through the curtains, and Izalea's phone's persistent buzzing awakened her. She moaned as she read a ton of calls and messages from her mother, each one more anxious than the last. She couldn't face her yet. Izalea remembered Jasmine's snoring throughout the night, and then she glanced to the side, giggling as she saw Jasmine drooling.

...

My phone buzzed again, making me sigh. Instead of answering, I called Belle to ask her for help with groceries and breakfast. Even as we spoke, my mother's calls kept interrupting.

"Oh my God, she doesn't stop," I muttered, feeling the frustration rise.

Jasmine stirred beside me, blinking groggily. "Why aren't you answering your calls?" she asked, wiping sleep from her eyes.

I smiled. "Look who's finally awake. You were snoring all night."

Jasmine grinned and shook her head. "I don't believe you for a second."

"Anyway, it's my mother," I explained, rolling my eyes.

She frowned, her curiosity piqued. "You know, it's crazy that we've been friends for over ten years, went to college together, and are coworkers, but I've never met your mom."

I deflected with a smile, but inside I felt the pressure of her words. "Come on, let's not go over this again."

Jasmine crossed her arms, her skepticism clear. "I mean, it's weird. I get that we're both busy with shoots and constantly traveling, but never meeting her? It just isn't normal. And with all the news raising concerns... something just doesn't add up."

I felt a knot form in my stomach. "Jasmine, I..." avoiding the topic. "You are overthinking this. I should answer her call before she blows up my phone."

Suddenly she said something that caught my attention. Something I couldn't just let slide. I paused, hesitating.

"I had a journalist contact me recently, asking if I knew about your family. They were digging asking questions I didn't have answers for."

I shifted uncomfortably, my heart racing. "What did you tell them?"

She remained silent, her expression hardened. "Why did you insist at the agency that your biography should omit your family? We both know your mother is alive and well."

She paused, her gaze becoming even sterner. "What are you hiding?"

"It's complicated, okay? I can't involve anyone in this." I looked away trembling.

Her confusion turned to frustration. "Involve? Izalea, look around, everyone is involved now. The public, and the media. They're all making assumptions."

"I know." My voice wavered as I struggled for the right words.

"How can you expect me to trust you when you won't even tell me who you are? It raises suspicions," Jasmine pressed.

Frustration bubbled up and my response came out sharper than intended. "What did you tell the journalists?"

She scoffed, eyes sharper with annoyance. "Seriously? That's what matters to you right now?" she shot back, annoyance flashing in her eyes. "I've tried my best to keep your secret about your mom, but now I'm starting to worry if I made the wrong decision."

She paused, then her voice softened, almost like a plea. "Who is she? Why are you hiding her? How come you look nothing like her...?"

I responded immediately, "Look like who?"

Her jaw clenched as she examined me. "The girl in the photos circulating online... the one everyone's talking about. "You don't look like her."

She hesitated before slipping out the name, almost as if it were an accusation. "Jazlyn Gabby."

I felt the weight of her words and the urgency in her tone, but I pushed back. "Jasmine, please, just drop it for now. I'll explain everything when I can."

She shook her head, her voice thick with frustration. "Why not now, Izalea? Who are you?"

I looked her in the eye, doing my best to steady my voice. "The same Izalea Benson you've always known as you said, I look nothing like the .. those pictures online."

"Yes, but the media claims you may have done surgery and maybe that was probably before we met."

I could feel my defenses crumbling. "You're blowing this out of proportion, you've known me for too long to be having these doubts."

I swallowed hard, desperation creeping into my voice. "I just need to know if you revealed anything to the journalist."

Her face fell, hurt flashing in her eyes. "You won't answer any of my questions but you expect me to answer yours?"

"Jasmine!" I shouted her name, eyes wide, the plea in my tone unmistakable.

She stared at me for a long moment, then exhaled sharply, exasperation and a hint of sadness in her eyes.

"No! Izalea, I didn't say anything. You happy?"

Relief washed over me, I could only manage a weak nod as I prepared to step out of the room, feeling the weight of her questions linger in the air.

I stepped out of the room to answer my mother's call. The moment I did, her voice erupted through the phone, a mix of annoyance and concern. "Jazlyn! Why haven't you been answering my calls? You'd rather be on the phone with someone else, right?" she snapped, referring to my recent call with Belle.

"I was very occupied, Mom," I lied, hoping to ease her down.

"I do not care! I saw the news. About your contract with ABC?"

I paused, wondering what to say. "Yes, that."

"Jazlyn, don't you think it's high time you let it all go?"

I sighed, aware of my mother's expectations. "I understand, Mom. I am trying to figure things out."

"Where are you now? Come home, honey," she said, her tone softening.

"Don't worry, Mom, I'm fine. Jasmine is here with me; everything is fine," I reassured her.

I didn't want to tell her about Jasmine's suspicions cause I knew it'll make it all worse.

"Hmm, Jasmine? Why am I not surprised? You never listen to me. I've told you that the girl raises some concerns." She whined.

"Mom, please, not now," I said, exhausted.

"Let me get this. Did you call her first? Really? And here I was worried." She expressed disappointment.

"Mom, I didn't want you to worry, but I'm fine and I'll come over when I'm free." I quickly replied.

While I was speaking, I observed something peculiar. A sophisticated black car was parked across the street, its occupants staring carefully at the house. My heart raced. This wasn't usual.

"Mom, I have to go," I said hastily before hanging up. I rushed back to my bedroom. "Jasmine, there's something strange going on."

Jasmine looked up, worried. "What do you mean?"

"There's a car outside. I believe they are observing the house."

Jasmine's gaze widened. "What? Who?"

"I don't know," I answered, my voice increasing in panic. "But I have a bad feeling about this."

Just then, the doorbell rang, startling us both. We exchanged nervous looks.

"Who could that be?" Jasmine whimpered.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to remain calm. I approached the door, examining the surveillance screen; a tall, intimidating man clothed entirely in a black suit stood at my front door. He exuded authority. My hand quivered as I reached for the handle and cautiously opened it. The man stared down at me, his face severe but welcoming.

My thoughts raced. Who was he? What did he want? As the questions swirled, I felt a shiver run down my spine.

"Who are you?" I managed to say, just above a whisper.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge. "Agent Carter, FBI. We have a few inquiries concerning your recent activities," he said, his voice deep and steady. "Ms. Benson, we need to talk," his countenance unreadable.

The realization struck me like a ton of bricks. The FBI? What could they possibly want from me? My eyes widened in surprise. "How can I help you, Agent Carter?"

Before Agent Carter could react, Jasmine came behind me, her expression filled with interest. "Izalea, what's going on?"

Agent Carter looked at Jasmine, then back at me. "I came here to meet you, Ms. Benson, I hadn't expected to see Ms. Buckler here." He hesitated, his gaze narrowing slightly. "I'd like to speak with both of you, may we sit down?" he inquired, his tone assertive but polite.

I exchanged a quick, puzzled glance with Jasmine before stepping aside to let Agent Carter in. I gestured for him to follow me into the living room. We sat on the couch, and Agent Carter sat down across from us and took out a small notebook.

"What's this about, Agent Carter?" I asked, my voice steady but my mind racing with questions.

The doorbell rang again, and Belle's vibrant, bubbly voice called from the door. "Hey! I've got the food, and groceries." Belle's happy voice made an intense contrast to the tense environment in the living room.

Jasmine gave me a quick, uncomfortable glance before getting up to let Belle in. "Belle, Come on in."

With her arms full of bags, Belle walked into the living room.

"Morning!" Belle let out enthusiastically, her voice a welcome distraction from the stretched silence. She paused to take in the sight, her gaze moving between me, Jasmine, and the powerful appearance of Agent Carter.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

I rose from my seat, a faint smile breaking through my anxious demeanor. "Belle, this is Agent Carter," I continued, acknowledging the man in the black suit. "Agent Carter, this is Belle, my assistant."

Belle placed the items on the kitchen counter and brushed her hands on her jeans before offering one to Agent Carter. "Nice to meet you, Agent Carter," she greeted cheerfully and became curious. "Is everything okay?"

Agent Carter stood to shake her hand, his gaze softening slightly. "Nice to meet you, Belle." "Well, just routine for the time being," he continued. "We have some important matters to talk about, Ms. Benson."

Belle noticed the tension between Jasmine and me. "I brought some breakfast," she replied, hoping to lighten the mood while maintaining her composure even if she was still a little dumbfounded. "Ma'am Izalea, please let me know if there is anything I can do to help."

Sensing the gravity of the situation, I forced a meek grin.

Agent Carter sat down once more, and Belle started to arrange the items on the kitchen counter, moving a little more slowly. The seriousness of the situation enveloped us, and an uneasiness pervaded the room.