“He laughed at my messy, happy face,” he whispered. Aaliya relaxed and hugged her husband.

On the morning of the fifth day, after breakfast, Damir said with a hint of sadness in his voice,

“In about…” —he checked his watch— “two hours, we need to head out.”

Aaliya smiled and gently stroked his cheek.

“But we’re going together, right? You won’t leave me behind?”

She meant their trip to Canada. He kissed her hand tenderly, ignored her fear—which he understood—and sighed.

“What upsets me,” he said, “is that I won’t be able to enjoy being close to you every hour. I’ll have to wait for nightfall. And I’ll go mad until then.”

This time, Aaliya rolled her eyes and laughed, “You’re crazy, sweetheart.”

“I can’t help it. You’re delicious—and I can’t stop wanting you.”

Six months had passed.

“We’d like to discuss the terms of payment, if you’re satisfied with the delivery conditions,” Damir addressed the potential clients from the UK. During another business meeting, representatives from a small ice cream factory were present. Diana handed him an open folder with the necessary documents. Damir took it and began reviewing the points. The authorized representatives listened carefully and nodded in agreement.

“That’s your fifth contract this week, Mr. Damir. You’re doing an outstanding job,” praised his assistant, Diana. They exited the conference room, having just signed another long-term supply contract. Today, their monthly delivery volume increased by five tons. Damir, proud and confident, lifted his chin and headed toward his office. When he entered, his secretary informed him that Mr. Omer was expecting him.

Without hesitation, he turned around and made his way to his father’s office. Inside the CEO’s office, the other deputy, Samad, was already there, seated with a few documents in front of him. He held a pen and was watching Damir with a gloomy, unreadable gaze. After a brief greeting, Omer spoke.

“How did it go, Damir? Were the contracts signed?”

“Yes,” Damir replied, handing him the folder. Omer sat down and flipped through it slowly. Damir remained standing.

“Sit,” Omer said without looking up. Damir sat, feeling tension in the air. He glanced at Samad, silently asking with his eyes what was going on—but received no response. Samad simply lowered his head, then looked toward their father.

“Everything’s correct. No errors,” Omer finally said, closing the folder and looking at his son with no trace of enthusiasm. Then he turned to Samad and stretched out his hand.

“Give me the list of the companies we’re currently working with.”

Samad handed over two printed pages. Omer reviewed them, circling certain names with a pen. After what felt like an eternity, he called Damir closer.

“Take a look at this.”

Damir furrowed his brow, stood, and leaned in over his father’s desk. There were 23 companies listed—partners he had secured in the past five months. Twelve of them were marked in red.

“What does this mean?”

Omer turned to look at him.

“How did you find these companies? How did you connect with them?” Damir felt a chill creeping beneath his clothes, wrapping around him.

“Each one differently,” he said quietly.

“For example, the one from today?”

“Through the internet. I sent commercial proposals, and one of them responded.”

Omer pursed his lips and folded his hands together on the desk.

“Would someone explain what’s going on?” Damir demanded, looking from his father to Samad.

“The thing is,” Omer said, “these companies weren’t properly vetted. The ones marked in red, including today’s, turned out to be fraudulent. They were apprehended as they were leaving the building—they’re on their way to the police now.”