Chapter 2

• Richard
• Back home on my wedding anniversary with a woman I don’t even know, but it’s time for me to take care of several matters, including my unknown wife. Gustavo O’Brian’s daughter, a fool who couldn’t handle his business and drove his family’s company into bankruptcy, ended up selling his own daughter to get by. I only participated in such a distasteful act out of compassion. It’s better this way; that way she won’t expect any affection from me, and I won’t receive any from her.
• My work as a lawyer kept me away for three years, and it’s been two since I paid for my wife, whom I haven’t even read the report about that Andrea, my assistant, sent me by mail. I suppose she didn’t find anything of concern, or else she would have bothered me about it. Anyway, among my affairs, she is of least importance. I have finally found something about my past and have knowledge of who my family was. My parents died in a car accident in which I was the only survivor, but I was found far from the accident by some people who left me at the orphanage to help me find my family, where no one ever came for me.
• Now I know I have a grandmother who is about to die without heirs, to whom to leave a fortune that has been passed down through generations until it fell into my father’s hands and now mine. However, I am not interested in the money. All I have ever wanted is to have a family and to know why I was abandoned. Even though I now know the truth, I still wonder why she never looked for me.
• “Mr. Mobasseri,” I stop as I see my assistant approaching. “Sir, the car is waiting outside,” Andrea informs me. She is very efficient, having worked for me for several years with an excellent salary, due to the workload I subject her to.
• She is my most trusted employee. I often take her with me on trips, especially when it comes to matters concerning my friend Fernando, but I don’t keep her away for long. She is much more useful here, where she can oversee the law firm and the accounts we manage.
• “Andrea,” I greet with a nod, “Did you do as I asked?” I ask, looking directly into her eyes. “It is imperative for me that Mrs. Montero be present tonight at the celebration,” I comment as I continue walking.
• “Of course, Mr. Mobasseri,” she speaks with a clear and confident voice. “Mrs. Clara is also informed and will have everything ready for tonight,” she explains, walking alongside me. Andrea is a quite attractive woman. We once tried to have something, but it didn’t work. We also realized that it only harmed our work environment.
• “Richard,” she says, stopping me, “You know I don’t agree with what you did to that woman, and that’s why I beg you not to be so… you with her,” she pleads. “She is not at fault,” she finishes.
• I pass by her with annoyance, maintaining the composure that characterizes me as the coldest and most despotic man of all, and I murmur my next words with the intention that only she can hear them.
• “I don’t pay you to get involved in my private life; don’t waste my time,” I continue without further delay as I watch her position herself beside me. I don’t like having to behave this way with her, but sometimes she forgets that our friendship doesn’t give her rights over my personal life.
• It's also true that Andrea is the only one of my employees to whom I allow certain liberties. However, it irritates me greatly that she wants to meddle in my private life and give her opinion on my personality. She doesn’t understand what it’s like to be vulnerable and show everything, give everything for someone, and then one day be left not knowing if what was lived was real or simply an illusion that your mind created to make you feel good.
• We arrive at the airport exit, and right at the exit, a black car is waiting for me. The driver holds the door open as I got in with Andrea before heading towards the law firm. I need to review some things for some clients who are driving me crazy; I work with the best lawyers in the country. I trust fully that they are incorruptible and they know perfectly the consequences, but it doesn't seem to be enough for my clients.
• “Make sure my wife” that word scrapes my throat “is ready for tonight; my family will be present to meet her.” I hope she knows how to behave like a lady of society.
• “Mrs. Clara is already aware of your requirements for tonight, and has organized the house to receive your family. I think I already told you,” she says, obvious as she rolls her eyes.
• It's strange. It's been a long time since I felt anxious or nervous about anything, but the fact that today I will meet two different women who today are the only family I have means something. I don’t have any feelings for either of them, but for the older one I feel the longing and the need to get answers, while for the other one compassion brought her to me.
• As far as I know, my grandmother is a classy woman who has declined over the years due to diabetes, cigarettes, and the sadness of losing her husband to cancer. How ironic; my best friend has just overcome the disease and is finally happy with his wife without anything to disturb them.
• “Mrs. Mobasseri is not like your late wife,” I feel the blood boiling in my veins at the mere mention of my late wife, Hannah.
• “Don’t mention her again if you truly value your position,” I demand with clenched fists.
• It’s my fault that she’s dead; I never gave her the attention she deserved. My time was filled with work, and I barely paid attention to the signs she showed me. The sadness that seemed to never leave her face, the melancholy in her voice, the forced smile she gave me every day, I am the cause of her misfortune.
• She decided to leave me; I don‘t blame her for meeting someone else. Although I doubt it no matter how much evidence indicates that she was running away with her lover. At some point on the interstate she lost control of the car, went off the road. The car overturned causing a huge explosion in which there were no survivors. Now the doubt of whether she really loved me lives constantly in my head, tormenting me with her cynical smile.
• “I’m sorry, I was reckless,” she says and falls silent.
• The car speeds through the streets, taking us to the law firm, where I get out without waiting for Andrea and enter, greeting the staff in a distant manner on my way to my office. Almost four years after her death, her death still hurts. Her supposed betrayal, everything related to her hurts. That’s why since that moment I haven’t set foot in the mansion I bought for her. However, it's time to go back to that place full of so many memories.
• “I need you to organize a meeting in ten minutes with all the lawyers who work for me and order lunches to be served in the conference room; no one will leave until I say so,” I order, watching as Andrea complies immediately. I suppose that after five years under my service, she already knows my modus operandi.
• I would like to finish early to go home and meet my wife before the guests arrive, but I don’t think it will be possible. At most, I will arrive on time, just to change for dinner. I am exhausted from the excess of work; it seems to be taking its toll. It’s the only thing that keeps my mind occupied so I don’t think about her.
• It's been a little over four years since I lost the woman I loved the most. I gave her everything, or wanted to, but it was too late when I realized I did it wrong. I never really listened to her complaints or attended to her demands for affection. It didn’t matter to me as long as I could give her the most expensive and luxurious necklace of all, or if everyone envied her as she walked by my side looking stunning, radiating elegance with her smile that turned sad when she met my gaze.
• “How did I never realize that you were no longer happy?” I murmur to myself in my office, dropping my head back.
• She was the most beautiful woman in the world, long brown hair, dark eyes, porcelain skin, her full lips inviting a kiss, the sumptuous curves of her figure were the weakness of any man, an angel descended from heaven.
• “Richard, are you okay?” I return from my memories when I hear my assistant’s voice. She usually addresses me informally when we are alone.
• “I’m fine,” I reply. “Is everything ready?” I ask.
• “They’re just waiting for you,” she informs me.
• “Perfect,” we head to the conference room with transparent glass walls where I can clearly see everyone gathered.
• The look of terror on some faces does not go unnoticed by me. I like to be feared, to let them know who’s in charge, and that if things are not done properly, it’s best for them to resign before I bother to fire them for being useless. I feel the tension of everyone as I enter; they are waiting to hear what I have to say.
• “Good afternoon,” I greet without showing any emotion. “I called you here because I need you to clarify to me what the hell have you been doing during the three years I was out of the country,” I say, glaring at each one.
• The lower-ranking ones hold their breath. In this case, the interns are not to blame because they only receive orders, even though many times they have better ideas than those of us above them. But it is the job of a superior to listen to their subordinates and bring out the best idea. They just need to see that the law applies to everyone equally and that just because they have a better position within my office, they are not exempt from responsibilities when things go wrong.
• “Richard, there is a logical explanation for that,” Sandino, one of the lawyers with the most experience who aspires to become a partner, speaks up.
• “I want to hear that logical explanation, if there is any logic in this crap,” I show the marketing report of the firm’s services and the management and organization report. In this firm, several lawyers work as associates, each dedicated to a different area to cover more ground in the market.
• The secretaries shift In their seats as I demand a truly coherent explanation. The administrative and marketing staff are on edge, waiting for the moment when I explode.
• As I listen to my associate’s ranting, my mind drifts to the pain that almost consumed me when I landed in London and was informed of the death of Hannah, my wife. I felt like everything was over for me. I wanted to die with her, but death did not come for me. When the report revealed that she was running away with someone else, supposedly her lover, all her words blaming me for the lack of attention, time, and interest in our relationship and in us flooded my mind, almost driving me to madness. Since then, I blame myself for her death.
• From that day on, I stopped believing that love and happiness were meant for me. I don’t deserve anyone to feel that way about me, so I stayed away from very personal relationships and dedicated myself to living from bed to bed with women who don’t demand love, attention, or time from me. Just good sex, money, and that’s it. Some time later, I met Gustavo O’Brians, a despicable guy drowning in debt, who offered me a business partnership that I rejected because I didn’t want to mix with someone like him. However, during our conversation, he mentioned something that caught my attention, the name of his daughter Claudia, whom he was offering for sale. It was clear he didn’t want her and I didn’t need her, but my altruistic side couldn’t help but feel sorry for the girl's fate, so I proposed a purchase which he accepted. I gave him as much money as I wanted, with that he would get out of debt, his company could stay afloat, and he wouldn’t have financial problems for a long time. The most expensive purchase in my entire life.
• That same day, I had her moved to my mansion and made her sign the marriage certificate. There was no love and I wasn’t interested, so a ceremony was unnecessary. She was just precious merchandise.
• “Trash, that’s all I hear coming out of your mouth,” I point at him with hatred. “I need a solution presented to me by tomorrow morning at eight o’clock, or you can consider yourselves fired, including you, Sandino,” I demand to end the meeting, stand up, slam the door, leaving the lunches on the table as I walk away, feeling irritated as the memory of Hannah makes me relive all the pain and anger I felt.