“It all balls down to your court, let her go or lose the contract deal.” Aunt Carmen forced out words from her throat like grunts accompanied by mild pains in her voice.
“Just let her go, son.” Her voice crackled, and hot tears gathered around her eyelids; her palm went in search of his grip, and she tilted her head, searching for his eyes to read if the firm grip around her palm was an assurance that he'd accept defeat for the prize.
But on reaching his eyes, they were so relaxed and unreadable. She let out a loud cry.
“Have you planned your funeral yet, Aunt?” Damian reminded her of the consequences of raising her blood pressure again with this petty attitude she exuded.
****
Her exams have been smoothed, at least, she can rest her mind a bit. Just a bit because her last encounter
