The Last Russian Doll Novels & Stories

"Charlotte, I promise I'll take good care of Mom. You take care of yourself over there too, okay?" Mom gave my photo a little forehead tap. "You just had to stay so far away. Wait till you see your dad—he's definitely got something to say about this." Her eyes turned red. "Charlotte... can Mommy cry just one last time?" Then, on the morning of April 3, 2025, the doorbell rang. A delivery arrived—a neatly wrapped massager and a pink card. Mom opened it. Inside, it said: [Mom, hehe, I'm actually not dead. I just traveled to another world. I'm living happily here. So you have to live happily too, okay?]

In her small palm sat a plastic seashell liberated from a decorative vase. Elena accepted it. “For me? Thank you.” Vasiliya gave one very serious nod. Transaction complete. She turned and walked away as though she’d just surrendered documents of critical national importance. Oksana settled beside Elena with a faint smile. “She’s never given her ‘treasures’ to anyone except Rurik. You’ve just won her heart.” Elena closed her fingers around the cheap plastic shell. Here, amid all this marble and crystal, it felt like the only thing in the room with any real substance.

He shook his head and muttered, "You think she'd prefer a garden? Miniature roses?" For a fleeting moment, Nikolai and I exchanged glances, then turned back to Roman, each of us grappling with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, silently asking ourselves what the hell he was going on about. "You sure about the dollhouse for Mila?" Roman went on. "I mean, it's not too much?" I glanced at Nikolai, who was stifling a laugh. "Really, Roman?" I asked. "We're planning an attack, and you're worried about a dollhouse garden?"

he retorted sarcastically, frustration seething in his voice. He then placed a grimy, tattered box in front of me, wrapped haphazardly. I opened it and peered inside, my eyes narrowing as I examined the contents. The box resembled a child’s plaything, but the items within were unsettling. The plastic knife and screwdrivers were chipped and stained, the nuts were rusted, and the doll’s skin was scratched, as if it had been dragged across a rough surface. "The doll was dismantled, and the nuts were shoved inside its eyes before she found the box and hid it. Isn’t that strange?" Hudson said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

*Ana* “Oh…“ I barely manage to utter as I feel myself freeze on the spot. I only watch the maid continue to pull the doll out. Mykhol takes it from her to push into my free arm. I numbly feel the doll's long red wavy hair cascading over my arm. What is this? Unable to speak, I can only look back at the teen. My eyes dart around him as if to see some answer. But he doesn’t help at all. He’s just standing there grinning at me. What...this… My mind is trying to process the next word and failing. Finally, though, the teen doesn’t seem bothered by my silence, instead, he seems to take the opportunity to speak. I feel a rush of relief as he lets go of my hand- which I instantly pull back toward me

The night couldn't be more perfect as long as Riley Blake was concerened. In her books, she has never had a night as perfect as the one she was getting ready for. A red lipstick and the perfect stiletto was all a girl needed to get ready for the biggest night of her life. " You look good Riles, don't over do it" Ana said from the other end of the video call. Riley had placed her phone on the big bed stand while she dressed up and had Ana, her best friend since college, watch and hype her up for the big night ahead. She had tried on five dresses earlier, changed the colour of her lipstick thrice and tried four different shoes.

Marsha glanced at Salsa up and down before smiling sweetly. “What do you think? Just guess. I'm not going to tell you anything except what to do next. I'm not as stupid as Leo, I know that what I hold is not just an enemy that can return to my hands. It's like a bomb that can explode at any time. While I will believe in myself, the bomb will never explode.”

My house is… messy…’ Around Arnold's body, various furniture that filled Arnold's apartment were scattered. The perpetrator wanted to make the scene just robbed and killed by the robbers. He knew exactly that was not the answer. The culprit wanted to disguise their acts as robbery, not murder. There was nothing precious in Arnold's apartment apart from a bookshelf containing a collection of comics and underdog novels, as well as a flat-screen TV. His teeth were grinding. His hand moved slowly, touching Arnold's cheek. Cold. He could feel the sensation.

Eli's pov Claire's update that week amounted to nothing again, a single sentence delivered over coffee, her uncle's contact was busy, the footage was still sitting unconfirmed on some server nobody had actually looked at, and I sat there nodding along the way I'd nodded along for weeks now, feeling something inside me finally start to fray at the edges of my patience. I found Danny Ruiz behind the counter at the hardware store two days later, restocking a shelf of paint cans with the bored efficiency of someone who'd rather be anywhere else, and I stood at the end of the aisle for a second working up the nerve before I walked over.

Akim coldly stated, “They must know you are here.” A brief silence draped over the room before Nikolai heaved out a deep sigh and spoke. “Settle everything. We’re taking the doll back to the mansion.” I got lost for a moment in their conversation. What did Akim mean by that? Did Nikolai just call me a doll? What is Seraglios?