Once I enter the house, I find myself with an image that ends up breaking all my notions of good sense.
Ali is on the rug with private books in my office, and Juliet stands to one side of the entryway after needlessly opening the door to greet us.
"Oh Lord. Neville," she says by way of greeting.
I advance like a beast in search of the books and reviews.
In effect, they are the accounting books of the firm.
"What the hell is he doing with this?"
Juliet swallows hard and goes looking for Ali to hold him in her arms as if in a fit of anger I could kick my own son.
"He wanted them. I supposed it was because he wanted to feel your smell, your perfume, you use them a lot and we have been careful."
"Did you enter my private office, Juliet?! My heart is pounding while everything around me seems to be on fire."
"N-no, sir, just because Ali..."
"Ali not a damn, no one can enter or touch my stuff, what made you think you would have that right?"
"Sir, I'm so sorry, but it's good that the child can feel close to you..."
"Are you a psychologist or a pediatrician?!"
"No sir,"
"Then don't say stupid things, Juliet!!"
I collect all my books, walk to my office and close the door to return everything to its place, however my hands and legs shake in the attempt and one of the books falls. With fury I smash against all things, throwing them to the ground and against my desk. I smash a picture frame, smash a lamp, punch the oak tree, and stop with my hands braced on the edge, watching the wounds on my knuckles just open once more and my hands bleed.
All kinds of images go through my head.
Especially those of the investigation team notifying me by email of the evidence that Zara, my wife, the only person I trusted with my entire life...
...weeks before the flight, an abortion was performed behind my back.
What else?
What else do I have to know about you, Zara?
Why the f*ck did you disappear without giving me the chance to meet you face to face so you can tell me all the rubbish you did to me?
WHY?!
ESTÁ A LER
A Baby for the Billionaire
Literatura feminina-I love you, Zara. -Me too, Kerem. And to you, precious, my little Ali. I love you with my heart. I'll be back tomorrow, I promise. They were the last words the Turkish tycoon heard his wife say before she boarded a plane and left him with the nine...
