1. My uncle

 23 years earlier

The woman winced from the severe contraction. She hissed in the air through her nose. Only marginally did she notice how the driver next to her drove far too quickly into the curve. He cursed softly to himself.

What was he doing to the woman he loved? He'd been wondering for months. Desperate now, hopeless. She wouldn't change her mind.

He started to speak, wanted to talk to her. Despite the severe pain, she heard his thoughts.

"You're welcome! Not! I don't want another argument! ”She pleaded desperately. But there was an unmistakable stubbornness in her tone that made the driver clench his teeth. "How much longer?" She asked with a sigh.

"We'll be there immediately!" He said helplessly. Giving in to the beloved woman's request.

"Was that it then?" She looked at him with tears in her eyes.

He doesn't look at her. Looking forward, he stops in front of the hospital emergency room. "It's your decision! I will respect them. "

She nodded. She got out of the car with difficulty and pain. “Don't blame yourself! I want it that way! ”She slammed the door. She adds quietly, "I love you."

She didn't see the driver's pained expression. How he tried to stop her, but then let his hand drop uselessly. He drove away with screeching tires.

23 years later

Finally the last day of work was done. Three weeks vacation lay ahead of me. Three weeks without this open-plan office, without hectic rush, without a telephone and the constant murmur of many voices. Free at last! For three weeks I was inwardly jubilant and happily waved to the porter.

By this time tomorrow I would almost be there. My first vacation. Well, actually not a real vacation, more like looking for my father's family. Maybe himself? Don't allow too high hopes, Sarah be moderate. Be glad if you at least find out something about him.

After all these years of ignorance, I should finally learn more. My mother died right after I was born. For a long time I thought she had died because of me. It was this belief that never let me calm down.

My uncle, with whom I found a home, tried to replace my mother and father. Whereby it often failed miserably when I got my way again. He was more of a comrade I could rely on in all situations.

I thought of him sadly. It hurt, just as it did months ago. Cancer was the diagnosis, discovered too late, no chance of healing. Within a very short time my uncle collapsed. For him it was a relief, for me the painful memory remained.

The funeral, the liquidation of his apartment, all the little things that had to be done. I performed like a well-oiled machine. Just not allowing any feeling, I firmly rejected the grief.

Ignoring the boxes full of memorabilia and important papers. I put off sorting out to the next one every day. Although my acquaintances pushed me. I should lock up! Accept the death of the loved one. No, I couldn't!

So there was nobody left for me. I scared off my few friends. One after the other.

Every day I went to work, did it, and went home staring into space. Thought of the past, I couldn't bring myself to do more.

One day my head of department called me over. He made it very clear to me that my achievements were unsustainable. Either I found my way back to my old performance as quickly as possible or we would have to part ways.

That shook me awake! The job wasn't a dream, but it paid very well. I also owed it to my uncle that I was allowed to work here at all. It would have seemed like treason to me if I lost my job.

First of all, I pulled myself together after the conversation. Got more done than it has been in a long time.

At home, I resolutely picked the boxes. Leafing through the photo albums, the dam finally broke. My god how little I was! Baby photos, still in the hospital. Finally I could let my feelings run free.

What must my uncle have felt then? His little sister died, now lying cold without life in any room. And he held me proudly in his arms.

I never thought about it. I knew the siblings were close. Often enough he told me about his sister, my mother. Little anecdotes of the whirlwind that could never sit quietly in one place.

Smiling, I remembered a particularly funny story. It didn't get me anything. I closed the album with determination, a picture slipped out.

No, no picture. What? A birth certificate? My birth certificate and what I never thought possible. I read my father's name! There he stood! Vlad Sardovan! I held the sheet in disbelief with trembling fingers. Where did she come from? Did my mother give that name? My uncle swore he didn't know who my father was. He put on the albums!

I feverishly tore open the box with the papers. Everything carefully sorted in folders. Indeed a folder with my name on it. How could I miss it?

Anyway, I opened it with trembling fingers. It was there! Indeed with stamp and all the trimmings. My uncle adopted me, and here was my birth father, renouncing his rights. He refused me, just gave me away!

Stupid! How stupid i was How many times have I imagined that my dad didn't even know I existed. Dreamed that one day he would show up. Of course he was a respected agent, a diplomat, my knight in gold armor.

Daydream, he didn't want me. The reality was seldom beautiful. Still leafing through the folder I found a savings account with my name on it. When I saw the sum, it took my breath away. Where did the money come from? My uncle didn't have that much and turned the pages.

Since I was born, a fixed amount has been transferred to an account every month and this has then been divided. In funds and insurance as well as on the savings account. My God, if I put that together, I could call myself wealthy. Where did the money come from?

In the next few days I didn't get any smarter either. After a conversation at the bank, I didn't know anymore either. The only testimony was from a foreign account. Why did my uncle keep this from me? What else?

One thing did not let me go. Vlad Sardovan! My producer's name, that's what I called Vlad from now on. who was he? Where did he come from? That thought kept floating around in my head. Did these huge sums come from him? If so? Then why, did he renounce me?

In my free time I tried to find out something about the name and its origin. After doing some research, I knew the name came from Romania.

According to the Internet, there was even a castle that was named Sardovan.

It was called a small tourist attraction with a museum. Part of the castle has been converted into a hotel. Well the interesting thing it was also inhabited by a certain Corvin Sardovan. A lead, a very hot lead.

On the spur of the moment, I sent an email to the hotel. To my own amazement, I got a prompt reply from an Alia Sardovan.