great-recipes.grastyup.com “My uncle once asked me, ‘Are you a virgin?’ when I was already 27 years old. From that moment, I started to be afraid of him. And a few days later, when he took me to a hotel outside the city, he leaned close to my ear by the pool and whispered, ‘After the pool, come up to my room…’”

I could barely breathe.

“Why?”

“Because I had discovered that our father had been hiding money and documents for decades. Your father believed those documents could reveal what happened to me—and why he had been threatened.”

I looked down at the papers on the desk.

For years, I had mourned my father without questioning the official explanation of his death. Now, every memory felt different. Every unanswered question seemed to lead somewhere darker.

“Where are you?” I asked Anna.

She gave me an address.

“I’ll come to you,” I said.

“Not tonight,” she replied urgently. “Please. Wait until morning. And don’t tell anyone else where you’re going.”

I ended the call and stood motionless.

Richard approached me, but I stepped away.

“Don’t touch me.”

He stopped immediately.

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t. You’ve known pieces of this story for years, and you let me live without knowing who I was.”