“See? Even Rida agrees with me. Why didn’t you look into this properly?”
Zahir shot a glare at his son, who was curled up comfortably in Cesare’s arms.
Even though the boy carried his blood, there were times when his sharp mind made him absolutely insufferable.
Suppressing his anger, Zahir’s expression twisted with a deep sense of injustice—his eyes even glistening with the hint of tears.
“Cesare, do you seriously not get it? You were kidnapped. How am I supposed to stay calm?”
“But there were no threats. We could still talk on the phone,” Cesare replied evenly.
“Maybe you and Rida can keep cool under pressure, but I can’t!”
Zahir burst out, fists clenched.
Still, he couldn’t bring himself to truly snap.
Instead, he turned on his heel and stormed back to his seat.
He couldn’t understand why Cesare was treating him like the bad guy here.
Maybe he had overreacted—but everything had turned out fine in the end, hadn’t it?
The thought only annoyed him more.