I fell asleep on the way from Beirut to Paris. It was the best thing that came to my mind... I'm not well, every time my eyes make the attempt to close, a latent thought comes to me, Anthony.
I should have told him the truth... I should have told him that I was running away to Bogota, from my problems, from my anxiety, from all the crap I've gotten involved in because of my idiocy, my immaturity, and above all... For having fallen in love with such a shameless and shameless man as Freddy Nasser.
Who would think of sending a woman to drug me?
And why did it occur to me that the best way to get rid of Marie Sherman was to stab her?
Desperation keeps holding me hostage. I am not happy, to think of the sadness I am causing in the heart and life of my husband, the man I married and spoke of
