“Yes.”
“Maybe… maybe there’s an explanation.”
I felt myself shrink.
Not because she didn’t believe me.
But because I understood how difficult it was for her to accept that her father could be this man.
“What explanation?” I asked quietly. “That he walked into a hotel with another woman and kissed her because they were discussing a contract?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“No. Of course not.”
“I don’t want you to choose a side, Ani.”
“You’re my mother.”
“He’s your father.”
“Yes,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean he gets to hurt you.”
She reached across the table and took my hand.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
It was the most honest answer I could give.
I didn’t know if I wanted a divorce.
I didn’t know if I wanted an explanation.
I didn’t know whether I wanted to scream, cry, or pack his clothes into garbage bags and leave them outside the hotel.
I only knew one thing.
I didn’t want to live in ignorance anymore.
Ani helped me do something I never imagined I would do.
We hired a private investigator.
Her name was Victoria Boneva, a former police officer who now handled family cases.
