More and more intimate photos of Loraine and Dordrich spread across the table.
My PI has delivered a thick envelope and every photo that comes out makes my blood boil even more. I take a double whiskey from the cupboard and add some blocks of ice. Good enough to calm down.
I look out the window of the penthouse.
I arrived here last night, a new plan to get Loraine back to our residence, bombard her with memories of our good times spent here. But yesterday she was missing and also this morning the staff of the hospital did not find her in the rented apartment. And now I get these pictures of where she was and with whom.
I walk to the couch and now check them one by one.
In Dordrich's arms on the terrace of the penthouse, dining in love, kissing heavenly in a restaurant parking lot and with Dordrich strangled between her legs on a lounger on the secluded beach. This last one is especially maddening.
But there are also some with Aziel, that idiot at her workplace!
