تسجيل الدخولThe doctor arrived an hour later. Dmitri came to my room and told me to come down to the small sitting room on the first floor, and I walked there with my hands cold and my heart pounding.Adrian was already there, standing by the window with his arms crossed. The doctor was an older man with gray hair and kind eyes, he had a leather bag in his hand and he was smiling at Adrian like he knew him."Adrian," the doctor said. "Look at you. All grown up. I delivered you, you know. Thirty some years ago, you came into this world screaming and I was the first person to hold you after your mother."Adrian nodded, his face was neutral. "I remember, Doctor Petrov.""You remember? You were a baby.""My father told me. You've been with this family a long time.""Longer than anyone should, probably." The doctor laughed and set his bag on the table. "Last time I saw you was when you broke your arm climbing that tree behind your grandparents' house. You were ten years old and you didn't even cry whe
was having breakfast in the kitchen, just scrambled eggs and toast, when Dmitri walked in and stood by the counter."Mr. Volkov has asked for you," he said. "His room."I put down my fork and wiped my mouth. "Now?""Yes."I didn't ask why. I just got up and walked out, because asking Dmitri questions was like talking to a wall, he never gave me anything.The hallway was quiet, my footsteps felt loud on the marble. I went up the stairs and down to Adrian's room, the door was half open and I could hear his voice inside. He was on the phone, and he didn't sound happy."No, it doesn't need to happen," he said. His voice was sharp, controlled, like he was trying not to yell. "I said it, so that's enough."A pause. Someone was talking on the other end, probably his grandmother, her voice was muffled but I could hear the sharpness."That should not be necessary," Adrian said. "I don't care what they insist."Another pause, longer this time. Then something changed, the person on the phone mu
Mrs. Holloway arrived at noon, sharp and stiff like always, and she looked at me like I was a project that wasn't quite finished."Today is your final lesson," she said, setting her bag on the table. "Tonight you have the real test. If you embarrass Mr. Volkov, it's not my reputation on the line."I didn't say anything. I was still thinking about the folder on Adrian's desk, my father's name written in black marker. Vance. What was inside? Why did Adrian have it? I wanted to ask him but I was scared, scared of what he might say and scared of what I might find out.Mrs. Holloway snapped her fingers. "Eyes here, Miss Camilla. You cannot afford to be distracted."I forced myself to focus. We ran through everything, posture, introductions, small talk, which fork to use and which wine glass was mine. She drilled me on how to smile without looking fake and how to answer personal questions without giving too much away.I messed up a few times, used the wrong fork once and forgot to stand whe
was still sitting on his bed when the house went quiet enough that I could hear my own heartbeat.The shooting kept running on a loop in my head — the gunshots, the screaming, the way Adrian had shoved me behind that headstone and put his body between me and whatever was coming. I kept seeing him take a bullet. Kept seeing blood spreading through white fabric, even though I knew it hadn't happened that way. I couldn't get the images to stop no matter how many times I reminded myself they weren't real.What the fuck did he actually do? I didn't have an answer. I didn't even know where to start looking for one, and the not-knowing was making it hard to breathe.I got up because sitting still wasn't working anymore. I moved around the room, not really looking, just needing my hands and feet to do something. The furniture was dark, heavy, expensive in the way that doesn't announce itself. A closet full of suits. A window that looked out over the gardens, black now in the dark. A desk in t
The next morning, Mrs. Holloway came back. I was still thinking about the blood, about the man who died, about the way Adrian had looked at me when he said "Someone did." I couldn't focus, I kept dropping things and using the wrong fork and smiling like my face was broken. Mrs. Holloway sighed a lot. She wrote notes on her little pad. I didn't care anymore. "You're distracted," she said. "I'm fine." "You're not. But it's not my job to fix your emotions, just your posture. Shoulders back." I pulled my shoulders back and tried to think about forks instead of dead bodies. Adrian watched from the doorway again. I noticed him right away this time, I didn't know how long he had been standing there. He was leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and his face was unreadable, but his eyes were tracking my every move. I hated that I wanted him to keep watching. He stayed longer than before, and when I caught his eye he didn't look away. My face got hot, I tripped over my own f
I woke up in my own bed. The sheets were twisted around my legs. The morning light was gray through the curtains. My body ached in places I didn't want to think about. I stared at the ceiling and remembered everything. His hands. His voice. The way he'd watched me fall apart. I pressed my face into the pillow and stayed there until Dmitri knocked. "Breakfast," he said through the door. I got up. Put on a robe. Opened the door. Dmitri set the tray on the nightstand. Eggs. Toast. Orange juice. Same as every morning. He didn't look at me differently. Didn't mention last night. I was grateful for that. "The lessons start today," he said. "Etiquette. Manners. How to dress. Mr. Volkov wants you believable." I sat on the edge of the bed. Picked up my fork. "What kind of lessons?" "The kind that keep you from using the wrong fork at dinner." I ate my eggs. I didn't argue. --- The tutor arrived at noon. She was an older woman with gray hair and a face that didn't smile







