Shadows of Forbidden Hearts

"Shrouded Affair"

After conversing with Daniel, I returned home and freshened up. Once ready, I headed downstairs to prepare myself a meal, as it was already dinner time. I settled in front of the TV, indulging in my favorite dish.

Midway through my meal, a call from Mr. Iran interrupted my quiet evening. "Hello, Mr. Iran," I answered, eager for any updates. "Did you manage to gather any information?"

" Yes, ma'am," Mr. Iran began, his voice carrying a weight of seriousness. "I don't quite know how to say this, but the person known as Mr. Santoro's father is actually his stepfather, and his name is Alexander barlowe " I froze, my fork hovering midway to my mouth, the revelation sinking in.

If this man is Mr. Santoro's stepfather, then what about his real father? What happened to him? My mind raced with questions as I turned to Mr. Iran. "Then who killed Mr. Santoro's ex-girlfriends?" I inquired, my voice barely above a whisper, a mix of curiosity and concern evident in my eyes. "And what actually happened to Mr. Santoro's biological father?" With a heavy heart, I set my empty plate aside and braced myself for the unsettling truth.

Mr. Iran's responses "It says Mr. Santoro's stepdad, Mr. Alexander Barlowe, was the one to kill Mr. Santoro's ex-girlfriend." My mind reeled at the revelation, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place.

But then, a sudden realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. "Wait, wait," I interjected, my voice tinged with urgency as I processed the information. "If Mr. Santoro's stepdad's name is Alexander Barlowe, then why would he have the surname 'Santoro' instead of 'Barlowe'?" Confusion knitted my brows as I sought to unravel the mystery behind this discrepancy.

Mr. Iran's explanation hung in the air, his words offering potential explanations to the perplexing situation. "There are two reasons for it, ma'am," he continued, his tone measured. "One, Mr. Santoro's mother chose to keep her first husband's surname. Or two, Mr. Santoro's mother didn't actually marry Mr. Alexander Barlowe."

As his words sank in, a surge of frustration coursed through me. "Seriously?" I exclaimed, my irritation evident in my voice as I struggled to make sense of the tangled web of information. "I'm already confused, and now you're throwing more possibilities into the mix?" I sighed heavily, feeling the weight of confusion pressing down on me.

"I am sorry, ma'am, for the confusion, but this is the information I can provide for now. I'll try to delve deeper into it," Mr. Iran offered apologetically. Nodding in understanding, I uttered a quiet "okay" before ending the call.

However, as I sat alone, the weight of unanswered questions pressed upon me. Who is Mr. Santoro's biological father, and where could he be? If Mr. Santoro's mother didn't marry Alexander Barlowe, why did she choose to stay with him? Even if she did marry him, why didn't she change her surname? And what was Alexander Barlowe's reaction to all of this? My mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts and uncertainties, leaving me feeling overwhelmed and frustrated.

"Oh, Lord, this is more confusing than any other mission I've faced," I muttered to myself, feeling the exhaustion weigh heavily upon me. With a deep sigh, I realized that I desperately needed sleep, or else I might snap tomorrow.

Pushing myself up from the sofa, I made my way to my room, each step feeling heavier than the last. Collapsing onto my bed, I found solace in its familiar embrace, settling into a weird but comforting position. With my mind still swirling with unanswered questions, I closed my eyes, hoping that sleep would offer me some respite from the chaos of the day.

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Waking up to the annoying buzz of my alarm, I shut it off and reluctantly got out of bed. Still half-asleep, I shuffled to the bathroom, not bothering to open my eyes fully.