Chapter thirty

I waited for her, sitting reluctantly on the couch ideally the whole day doing nothing special, the old woman's gaze darted from me, and I peeked at her.

The similarity was bready all over, it was only her turn-up nose and her arched brow that differentiated her from Ramanov, the wrinkles did somehow conceal their similarities starting closer it was obvious they were blood-related. My mouth couldn't hide the question that was boiling inside of me.

"You sure look like him, Ramanov." I finally opened up breaking the serenity lurking in her small cabin from the least of her floor to the stack of herbs that hung by the wall, who even uses herbs these days, the world has catapulted into modern science, and it looked like she wanted to keep the legacy of the best herbalist in history one day.

"Never mention that girl." Her grey lashes encouraged to my side with a tone that pierced like an arrow, she warned.

No two ears were to hear she was the tyrant mother, and I understood her reasons, I