"You fell in love, didn't you?" my father said suddenly, making me look up from those repulsive photographs.
"What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" I protested, although perhaps the correct question was: "What the hell have you become?"
"I have many businesses," he got up from his seat, leaving the glass on the table in front of him. "Not all of them go well, so you always need to have some backup, Christine."
"So you're some kind of mobster or something?" I asked, taking the photographs to throw them away from me.
"Not exactly, my daughter," it surprised me how he dared to say the word "daughter" in his sentence. I was surprised and scared, but not exactly for the reason I feared him. I had discovered that my father was not exactly a good citizen, but a criminal. "I work for c
