Page 185 of Morally Corrupt

He knew how hard I'd searched for JImenez and how much I'd wanted to make him pay for what I thought he had done to my parents. And yet, he'd so easily sold me to his brother.

What had Valentino Lastra said? That Marcel owed him a debt?

Was that debt more important than our friendship?

I remember the early days of our acquaintance, and how we'd eventually bonded over the fact that we were both extremely private people as well as mildly taciturn - Marcel more so than me. In the years that I'd known him, he'd started to become more open, even though some things simply stuck.

Like his phobia of touch.

That brings me to a halt.

Why had I never wondered? Why had I never asked?

The more I think about it, the more ashamed I am at myself for being such a lousy friend.

He hadn't told me and I hadn't pried. But maybe I should have?

I'd often thought about how private Marcel was about certain things, like his personal life, or day to day activities. If it wasn't work-related, or more so, Jimenez related, we rarely saw each other.

Had I been blind this whole time? Blind to what was happening to him when no one was watching?

I remember his face when his brother had revealed everything. He'd been shameful and remorseful.

It might be that...

I shake my head, now more confused than ever.

In one regard, though, Vlad is right. I'll listen to him, if he does in fact want to tell me, and then I'll think about it.

The following day, the doctor comes for another check-up and given that I've now remembered everything, he tells me I can get discharged in a couple of days.

Vlad, though, has proven to be even more unpredictable, as he's started forwarding me messages from Bianca, about her settling in and mundane stuff about her life in Russia.

I have to say. Those are probably the highlight of my day, and I've started looking forward to each and every one of them.

I miss her.

I didn't think it was possible to miss someone so much.

But I know there are some things I have to take care of before joining her. With the first item on the list being faking my death.

It's my last day at the hospital when someone knocks lightly at the door. I'd been packing up everything and was already looking forward to some not so bland food - considering I'd been eating mostly porridge.

"Come in,” I say, and my eyebrows go up when I see who it is.

Marcel.

His face is blank as he comes inside the room and closes the door.

"I see you've spoken to Vlad?" I ask, observing him closely.

He shrugs, and he grabs the chair by the door and places it in front of me.

"What are you doing here, Marcel?" I ask, seeing that he's not inclined to start the conversation.

"I'm not here to ask for forgiveness." He finally starts, lifting his eyes to look at me.

"Then why are you here?"

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