7

7

Adrian

I’d had too much to drink the night before and woke up with a pounding headache.

My parents were already waiting at the breakfast table when I dragged myself over, still feeling the weight of the night.

Seray, our chatty housekeeper, was setting dishes down on the table when my mother, gazing out the window, suddenly said,

“There’s been a lot of noise coming from the duplex next door lately. Is something going on, Seray?”

“Yes, Mrs. Aster. I’ve seen some new faces. I think they have overnight guests.”

“Oh? Maybe Mr. Raymond’s sons are visiting. The poor man’s sick after all,” she added with concern.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked.

“His mind’s gone. He didn’t even recognize me the other day. Thankfully, Mrs. Claire is with him, taking care of everything. Alzheimer’s is a cruel disease—I know it well. My father had it, too.”

My father frowned. “Your father wasn’t sick. He was just a bitter old man. I’m convinced he faked it just to keep you all around him.”

“He’s been dead for years, and you still haven’t let go of that hatred.”

“I don’t like the Whitmore men.”

“You may resent my father,” my mother said, her voice tightening, “but at least don’t take it out on your grandchildren.”

“What was I supposed to do? The man humiliated me. Said he’d never let his daughter marry a widower—even if I was a successful businessman, even if I had a child, even if I was just a little older than her. Like I’d killed my first wife or something. If he hadn’t pushed me so far, I wouldn’t have had to elope from Adana. But you know what? I don’t regret a damn thing. Best decision I ever made. Let your father roll in his grave for all I care.”

“That’s enough,” my mother snapped, her voice trembling. “Don’t speak about my father like that. You’re hurting me.”

Her eyes filled with tears. My sister Sophia leaned in to comfort her, but my father went on, unmoved.

“He hurt both of us back then. And the Whitmores—don’t even get me started on what they put us through.

Even your brother Barnat sided with him. Raised his sons to be just like him.

To me, Barnat Whitmore is a coward. One’s a drunk, the other’s always shooting people.”

“Yet you’re the one who keeps bringing up marrying off Adrian to Sarah, Barnat’s daughter,” Sophia said with a playful smirk.

“I have no problem with the girls. They’re decent.

Although Adrian doesn’t seem interested in marriage. If you don’t like Sarah, just say so.”

“Dad, I’m not marrying a cousin. We’ve been over this a hundred times.”

“Maybe we’re the fools for even considering Barnat’s daughter. Let him find someone else for his spinster girl.”

“That’s enough,” my mother snapped. “Stop dragging my nieces into this.”

“What? It’s not like I’m lying.”

“And what about our children, huh? Our son runs a top law firm but wakes up with a hangover after a night out.

Our daughter just finished school and wants to ‘live free’ instead of settling down. Maybe she should be helping you with the construction business. What a waste of an education.”

That hit a nerve. My father slammed his fork on the table.

“Watch your mouth, woman! So what if my son drinks? He’s no addict like Serhat. And my daughter can live however she wants. I trust her. Don’t compare us to your miserable family.”

My mother couldn’t take it anymore. She stood up, tears falling, and left the table.

I followed her and walked her to her room.

“Mom, please don’t cry. Dad loves you. He’s just… angry.”

“You don’t understand, my boy,” she whispered. “You never saw what I’ve lived through. Ever since I married your father, I’ve been belittled. Rejected.

His family never accepted me. Mine turned their backs on me. I never belonged anywhere.”

I hugged her as she stroked my back.

“I’m so lucky to have you as my son,” she said softly. “If you want to do something for me… marry Sarah. She’s a good girl. I know you’d be happy with her.”

“Mom… please. You have to let go of this Sarah idea.”

After leaving her room, I went to find my father.

He was sitting by the window, brows furrowed, staring outside.

“Dad, why do you always have to hurt her? You know how sensitive she is about her family.”

“I’ve got work to do, Adrian. You’re late too.

And while you’re at it, drop by the office—I need your signature on the bid paperwork.”

“Fine. I’ll come by.”

There was no point trying to reason with him. His grudges ran too deep.

As I stood near the window with him, I spotted a young woman outside. She was walking briskly when she suddenly tripped.

She stood back up, brushed the dust off her long legs, adjusted her short skirt, and kicked the rock that had tripped her.

Then she flipped her hair back like nothing had happened and kept walking.

Could she be Mr. Raymond’s granddaughter?

She looked stunning from a distance.

If this assistant thing turned out to be a bust, maybe I’d take my chances with the neighbor’s girl instead.

Just then, two more people walked into the yard—a girl and a young guy.

They started talking to the clumsy beauty.

She then hopped onto the back of the guy’s motorcycle, and the two sped off.

Who was he…?

The way she clung to him—he was either her brother or her husband.

I’d figure it out soon enough.