When George went up an hour later to check on his wife who was supposed to be resting in her father's office, he didn't find her there. It didn't take a genius to understand where she had gone without saying one word to him.
"Fuc*…" George ran two hands through his hair and pulled on the roots roughly. He turned around looking for anything to kick, but then his brain registered exactly where he was. He glanced at John Evans's picture on the desk, his late wife stood next to him and a baby Cynthia was held tenderly in her father's arms.
George couldn't disrespect his in-laws like that. He folded a fist and bit hard on it instead, "I swear…I swear she'll be the end of me…"
George stormed out of the office taking the back executive exit that Cynthia surely had taken, the faint traces of her perfume lingered in the small space, cornering George and taunting him at the same time. He held his hand close to his face and then tried to capture her scent with it.
