Chapter Thirty-Six
Stella
It’s peaceful out here.
The gentle rustling of leaves and distant birdsong creates a natural symphony that feels worlds away from the tensions of recent days, weeks.
With all that’s been happening, I barely had time to make sense of my own thoughts and emotions.
But out here, a calm settles over me. A quiet contentment I hadn’t experienced since my parents’ death.
Maria pushes Bobik’s wheelchair with exaggerated care, navigating the specially constructed path that winds through the woods surrounding the estate. I follow a few steps behind, Polina nestled against my chest in her carrier, her weight warm and comforting.
“And this, my little scientist,” Maria says to Bobik, pausing to indicate a cluster of mushrooms growing at the base of an oak tree, “is what we called lisichki in Russia. Golden chanterelles.”
Bobik leans forward in his wheelchair, eyes bright with curiosity. “Are they edible, babusia ?”
“They’re the best kind,” Maria confirms. “When I was a girl, my grandmother would take me foraging. We’d make soup that tasted like sunshine.”
I watch them together, this impromptu botany lesson another thread in the tapestry of family they’re weaving.
In just a couple of weeks, Maria has become essential to us all— a grandmother to the children, and a mother figure to me.
The irony doesn’t escape me: Aleksei took one mother from me through his actions, then gave me another through Maria’s rescue.
And now, he’s letting his guard down a little and allowing Bobik these extra moments of freedom in the care of his grandmother.
Life at the manor is beginning to feel more and more normal.
If “normal” could even be a thing in the Tarasov empire.
These morning walks have become our ritual. While Aleksei handles business matters, we explore the extensive grounds, Maria sharing stories of Russia, Bobik asking endless questions, Polina sleeping or observing her surroundings with those dark, serious eyes.
Today we’ve ventured farther than usual, following the wheelchair-accessible path that Aleksei had constructed when we convinced him to allow these daily excursions. The forest grows denser here, the light more filtered, the sounds of nature more pronounced.
That’s when I see her— a figure standing motionless in a small clearing ahead, partially obscured by branches. Something about the solitary silhouette sends a chill through me despite the warm morning air. It’s like she’s asking for my help, calling me.
“Maria,” I say quietly, “would you mind waiting here with the children for a moment?”
She follows my gaze, her expression sharpening with concern. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure. Probably nothing, but…” I carefully transfer Polina to her waiting arms. “I won’t be long.”
Maria nods, her eyes communicating understanding beyond her simple response. “We’ll be right here.”
I move forward alone, instinct pulling me toward the figure despite the potential danger.
As I draw closer, details emerge from the dappled shadows— a woman in an expensive but rumpled dress, her back to me, dark hair hanging loose and tangled down her back.
Something metallic glints in her right hand, catching the sunlight.
Recognition hits with a surge of dread. Sofia Novikova.
Holy shit!
What is she doing here?
I step on a twig, the snap unnaturally loud in the sudden silence of the forest. The woman turns, startled, and I see her fully— her once-perfect makeup streaked by tears, eyes red-rimmed and wild. The metallic object is unmistakably a handgun, wavering between pointing at herself and at me.
I freeze.
“Sofia,” I say softly, raising my hands in a non-threatening gesture. “What are you doing out here?”
A bitter scoff escapes her. “What do you care? Come to gloat? The victorious rival checking on the defeated one?”
I remain still, maintaining the distance between us. Her unpredictable movements and the gun’s erratic trajectory keep me rooted in place.
“I’m not your rival, Sofia. I never wanted to be.”
“I used to love it here,” she says, gaze drifting around the clearing as if I hadn’t spoken. “When I was engaged to Aleksei, I’d walk here alone. It was the only place I felt… peaceful.”
The wistfulness in her voice contrasts sharply with the weapon in her hand. I take a careful step forward.
“Why don’t we walk back together? We can talk—”
“Stop!” The gun steadies, pointing more deliberately at her own temple. “I’m not here to talk. I’m here to end it.”
My breath catches and I force myself to inhale carefully.
Is she being serious?
“Sofia, please,” I say, keeping my voice even despite my surging adrenaline levels.
The alarm bells in my head are going off, screaming danger from every possible direction.
Whatever she wants to do with that gun, I don’t see how it could end well.
“Whatever you’re going through right now, it can get better. There are people who can help—”
“Help?” Another hollow laugh. “I have nothing left. My father is dead. Gone forever. The only person who ever cared about me.”
This admission sends a surge of guilt through me. I may not have deliberately ended her relationship with Aleksei, but I can’t help feeling responsible. And now, to know that she’s lost her father, too… my heart goes out to her.
“I know what loss feels like,” I say carefully. “I lost both my parents, too.”
“One more step and I’ll pull the trigger,” she warns as I attempt to move closer. “I mean it, Stella. I didn’t come here for rescue.”
From the path behind me, Polina lets out a sudden cry— a sharp, piercing sound that echoes through the trees. Something about the baby’s wail triggers something deep in my mind, a cascade of images flooding through me with stunning clarity.
A baby crying. Not Polina— another infant, wrapped in a blanket. My parents forced to make an impossible choice, the weight of poverty crushing them. A decision made in desperation, not in cruelty.
The baby— my sister— being handed to a couple as my mother wept. Her name had been Boyana.
Years later, Uncle Igor, drunk at Christmas, letting the secret slip. “Your sister was given to another family.” My parents’ horrified expressions. The hasty exit. The family secret never mentioned again.
The memory of my uncle’s revelation floods back in seconds, though they feel like a lifetime.
Boyana.
The imaginary friend I spoke to throughout my childhood wasn’t imaginary at all. She was real— and she’s standing before me now, a gun to her head. Sofia is my sister.
“Sofia, please,” I say, my voice breaking. “Don’t do this. Your father may be gone, but you’re not alone. You have… family.”
She shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. “I have no one. That’s why I’m here.”
“You have me,” I whisper. “I need my sister.”
Her hand falters, the gun lowering slightly. “What did you say?”
“Boyana,” I continue, the name feeling both foreign and familiar on my tongue. “That’s what our parents named you before they gave you up for adoption. That’s why I’ve talked to ‘Boyana’ in my head my whole life. I was talking to you, my sister, even when I didn’t know you were real.”
Sofia stares at me, suspicion warring with something in her expression that looks like hope. “I’ve heard that crap before. Trying to create a connection to talk someone down.”
“It’s not a tactic,” I insist, taking another careful step forward. “Don’t you recall what I told you that day… in that warehouse?” I pause as her expression flickers. I think I struck a nerve; I’m pretty sure it was Sophia who dealt the blow that knocked me unconscious and took my memory from me.
“You would have said anything that day,” she mutters. “You were trying to save your own ass.”
I shake my head. “No, Sophia. If you and Gianni hadn’t abducted me, I would have found you, spoken to you about what I had learned.
We share the same parents. The Novikovs adopted you when our biological parents couldn’t afford to keep you.
They were struggling to feed themselves, let alone a child. ”
Something shifts in her eyes— recognition, perhaps, or at least doubt about her certainty. “How would you know this?”
“My uncle Igor told me years ago, but my parents brushed it off. I never forgot it, though. I kept you here,” I tap my head, “in my thoughts. I believed you were imaginary until… my friend found out the truth.”
I think back to my call with Hannah, when she told me about my shared history with Sophia. And how Aleksei was involved in my parents’ deaths. I push that thought away now and go on.
“My friend Hannah. She works in secret service. She has… connections. I asked her to find out more about my past, and she uncovered that… we are sisters, Sofia. You’re my sister and you have a family.
” I gesture behind me, where Maria waits with the children.
“Family is complicated, Sofia. I understand that better than most. But it’s also precious.
Please, don’t throw away the chance for us to know each other. ”
Her gaze moves past me to where Maria stands with Bobik and Polina— a grandmother, a disabled boy, a baby. A family. Something naked and yearning crosses her face.
“You’re not alone,” I repeat softly. “You have me. You have family.”
The gun lowers further, her arm seeming to lose strength. For a moment, I believe I’ve reached her. That this might end without tragedy.
Oh, thank God!
I allow myself to breathe a low sigh of relief. Until her expression hardens, a terrible resolve replacing the momentary vulnerability.
“This,” she says, gesturing toward Maria and the children, “is something I’ll never have. And neither will you!”
The gun rises again— not toward her head this time, but outward. Toward me? Toward the children? I can’t tell, and I don’t wait to find out. I lunge forward, reaching for her arm, desperate to prevent whatever violence she’s contemplating.
The gunshot explodes through the peaceful forest, shattering the morning stillness. Polina’s frightened wail rises in response. Birds scatter from the trees in panicked flight.
We fall together, Sofia and I, to the soft forest floor, tangled in a desperate embrace that’s either salvation or destruction. I can’t tell which of us is bleeding, or if either of us is. All I know is that in this moment, I’ve found my sister only to risk losing her again.
This time, perhaps, forever.