Natalia felt all the color drain from her face. With her whole body shaking, she rubbed her sweaty palms on her black pencil skirt and reached for the picture that was now in front of her. She stared at the picture of her son, in a year's time. It was a copy, no doubt. They had the same smile, the same mischievous glint in their eyes.
'I am still waiting for an answer, Talia,' Christian's voice was low, and when she chanced a look at him his eyes were cold.
Shaking her head, she stood and walked to the window, same place that she had found him a few minutes ago. Hugging herself, she turned to him, 'what do you want me to say?'
'The truth will suffice,' he turned his chair, facing her. Even seated while she was standing he was intimidating. 'Who is the father of your son? Where is he?
