Chapter Thirty-Three

London UK, the 1880s.

My head blacked out for an instant, and I couldn’t find my words, as I stared at her in wonder. She was still young, but the important thing was that we met again. Happiness assaulted my being, and I got too excited to contain myself.

“I beg your pardon, young lady?” I answered her. She was around seventeen, taller, much taller than before, skinny, and with a pale complexion, but her registered marks never changed, her light chestnut hair and those violet eyes.

“You can’t treat people this way.” She chastised me in a sweet tone. It was a pity she didn’t know how cute she sounded.

“Sorry sir, daughter doesn’t know manners.” The man apologized, looking at his feet.

“On the contrary. Your daughter is a kind young woman,” I told him in Russian, her pupils dilated in surprise to the point of almost disappearing the violet in them. It was priceless.

“I’m sorry, Alya, is that right?” she nodded.

“Aliaksandra, but you can call me Alya.”

“My intentions were not to be r