Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Anna
Five years and eight months later, New York train station.
"Mommy, this place is huge!"
Sofia's excited voice pulled me from my daze. I looked down at her—this five-year-old staring wide-eyed at New York's train station, those brown eyes sparkling with wonder.
"Yes, sweetheart." I stroked her hair—red like mine, standing out in the crowd.
These past five years, I'd worked at the Morning Post in Manhattan. Things started well enough, but everything changed after Sofia was born. No more all-nighters, no more chasing stories across the city, no more being on call like other reporters.
My editor grew increasingly frustrated, assigning me trivial pieces. Eventually he relegated me to a dead-end position, slashing my salary repeatedly. I survived on simple day jobs—handing out flyers, conducting surveys.
Barely scraping by each month, always one step from broke.
Until three months ago, when headquarters reached out.
The Morning Post was expanding, needed experienced reporters at headquarters. The position required no field work—mainly editing and content review—with promotion and salary increase included.
Return to New York? Return to the city where he might be? I hesitated initially.
But Sofia would start elementary school soon. Good schools cost a fortune, far beyond my means. She needed stability, quality education, a real home.
I couldn't continue like this.
For Sofia, I had to seize this opportunity.
So I accepted the transfer and brought my daughter back to this familiar yet foreign city.
"Anna!"
A familiar voice called out. I snapped from my reverie to see Yekaterina weaving through the crowd toward us.
Five years later, she remained stunning—tailored Chanel suit, stiletto heels, latest Hermès bag. But seeing me, those refined eyes immediately brimmed with tears.
"God, you're back!"
She crushed me in a rib-cracking embrace. I hugged back just as fiercely, savoring that familiar warmth.
For five years, she'd helped us in ways I couldn't refuse.
Whenever I protested we didn't need assistance, she'd "accidentally" buy excess baby supplies, "stumble upon" discounted children's clothes, "receive" unwanted toys from others.
Supporting me through my darkest moments. Without her, I never would've survived.
"Katya..." My voice caught.
"Oh, don't cry." She patted my back while her own tears fell. "Let me see my little goddaughter!"
She knelt, arms outstretched. Sofia immediately launched into her embrace. "Godmother!"
Watching them, my eyes burned again. Yekaterina had been Sofia's godmother since birth, embracing that role completely.
"Let me look—oh my, you've grown so tall!" Yekaterina kissed Sofia's cheek. "More beautiful every time."
"Godmother," Sofia blinked those large eyes, "are you a fairy godmother? Like in stories?"
Yekaterina laughed. "Why would you think that?"
"Because you're so pretty and smell nice, and you always bring me tons of presents!" Sofia said earnestly. "Mommy says that's what fairies do."
Heat crept up my neck. I had told Sofia that, not wanting her to feel we were accepting charity.
"Well, I brought you something today, too." Yekaterina produced an elegant box from her bag. "Wait until we reach your new home to open it, okay?"
"Okay!" Sofia accepted the box eagerly.
"Come on," Yekaterina stood, taking Sofia's hand. "My car's outside."
In the car, Sofia quickly dozed in the back seat—exhausted from the overnight train journey.
Yekaterina drove while updating me.
"I researched the newspaper thoroughly. This position is genuinely solid—stable work, decent money."
"I'll give it my all." I watched the cityscape pass. "Really, thank you for making the connection—"
"Stop," she interrupted. "We agreed—no thank yous."
I pressed my lips together, then tried again. "About the company housing, they mentioned—"
"What housing?" Yekaterina rolled her eyes. "You want to live in those places? I investigated—decrepit tenements with communal kitchens and bathrooms. You think that's suitable for a woman with a child?"
"But—"
"No buts." She turned into an upscale neighborhood. "I already secured Sofia a proper home."
"For Sofia?" I stared.
"Exactly. I'm her godmother—what's wrong with providing for my goddaughter?" Yekaterina said matter-of-factly. "Know why I chose this neighborhood?"
"Why?"
"Because it's adjacent to one of New York's finest elementary schools—St. Anna Primary," she said proudly. "I already pulled strings for Sofia's enrollment. She starts September. Any idea how exclusive that school is? I moved heaven and earth for this."
My throat constricted.
"Katya, this is too much..."
"I told you—it's for Sofia," she glanced at me. "Refusing means you're preventing me from fulfilling my godmotherly duties. Besides, would you really deny Sofia such an opportunity?"
Words failed me.
She knew me too well. I might refuse help out of pride, but I'd never let pride compromise Sofia's future.
"Anna," Yekaterina parked before a beautiful detached house. "I know you're proud. I know you hate owing favors. But Sofia is my goddaughter. I have both the right and obligation to care for her. This isn't charity—it's my responsibility. Understand?"
I bit my lip as tears fell.
"Moreover," she added, "it's a rental—one-year lease. Once your job stabilizes, you can relocate if desired. But this year, Sofia lives here and attends that school. You owe me that much. You owe Sofia that much."
I inhaled deeply and nodded. "Alright."
"Good." Yekaterina smiled. "Now let's go see your new home."
I gently woke Sofia. The little girl rubbed her eyes, stepped out, saw the house, and immediately brightened.
"Wow!" Her eyes widened. "Is this our new home?"
"Yes, sweetheart." I knelt down. "Godmother found this house for you."
Sofia turned and hugged Yekaterina's legs. "Thank you, Godmother! You really are a fairy godmother!"
Yekaterina smiled, stroking her hair. "As long as my little goddaughter is happy. Let's explore inside."
The house featured simple yet warm décor—three bedrooms, a spacious living room, and a small study. The kitchen came fully equipped, completely move-in ready.
Sofia buzzed around like an excited bird.
"Mommy, can this be my room?"
"Mommy, there's a bathtub!"
"Mommy, the window shows the garden!"
Watching her joy filled me with both comfort and heartache.
These five years, we'd lived in cramped rentals. Sometimes, to save money, I'd choose basement apartments—damp, dark, walls crawling with mold. Sofia never complained, always understanding, but I knew she envied kindergarten classmates with spacious homes.
"By the way," Yekaterina said, "I fly to Paris tomorrow for fashion week. Gone about a week. Get settled, call if you need anything."
"Another business trip?"
"Yeah." She shrugged. "But I'll bring Sofia a present."
"Godmother's the best!" Sofia ran over for another hug.
Evening arrived, and Yekaterina departed. Sofia and I sorted our meager belongings from Manhattan in the yard.
Sofia chased butterflies while her red hair caught the sunset. I stood in the doorway watching, unconsciously smiling.
Moments like these made five years of struggle worthwhile.
Suddenly, the neighboring house's gate opened.
I glanced over casually—just a quick look.
Then the world froze.
The man emerging wore charcoal gray, black hair lifting in the breeze.
That silhouette. That bearing. That presence that seemed to still the very air.
Impossible.
But even across the distance, even after five years, I recognized that face—sharp features, aristocratic nose, and those brown eyes that remained devastatingly vivid in memory.
Alexander Volkov.
Time reversed.
I was back that night, back in that shabby rental, back in that moment of terror and magnetic attraction.
I remembered his fingers lifting my chin, his low voice in my ear, that dangerous, hypnotic gleam in his eyes...
How could he be here?
How could he live next door?
My breath caught, heart seized by an invisible fist.
Five years. Five years without seeing him, yet he appeared unchanged—still devastatingly handsome, still dangerous, still... impossible to ignore. If anything, maturity had only enhanced his magnetism.
He noticed the activity next door, his gaze sweeping this direction.
My pulse instantly went into overdrive.
No—he couldn't see me. Couldn't see Sofia.
Once he glimpsed Sofia's brown eyes—identical to his—saw her features mirroring his own, he'd know immediately.
Panic crashed over me like ice water.
I practically tumbled toward the yard. "Sofia! Inside!"
"But Mommy, I want to keep playing..."
"Now!" My voice emerged harsher than intended. Sofia startled.
I rushed over, gripped her wrist—harder than I meant—and pulled her houseward.
"Mommy, you're hurting me—"
"Sorry, sorry, sweetheart—" My voice trembled, but I didn't stop until we were inside and I slammed the door.
The sound jarred the quiet evening.
I pressed against the door, legs weakening, nearly sliding down.
Gasping, heart hammering like it might burst from my chest, ears filled with thunderous pulse.
"Mommy, what's wrong?" Sofia looked up with those brown eyes full of concern and confusion. "You're acting strange..."
Those eyes. Identical to his.
I knelt, trembling hands framing her small face, fighting complete breakdown.
"Nothing, sweetheart." I struggled to sound normal, voice still shaking. "Mommy's just... tired. Let's rest, okay?"
Sofia nodded but watched me uneasily.
I led her to the living room, mind reeling.
He lived next door.
Alexander Volkov lived next door.
A goddamned, catastrophic coincidence.
I collapsed on the couch, head in hands.
What now?
Should I relocate? But where? I had no money, nowhere to go. What about Sofia's school? One of New York's finest institutions—Yekaterina had fought so hard for that placement...
I'd just promised Yekaterina we'd stay one year, that Sofia would attend that excellent school...
If I reneged now, what would Yekaterina think? She'd demand explanations.
What could I possibly say? "Because my daughter's biological father lives next door—the Pakhan I've been fleeing for five years"?
Should I tell him the truth?
No. Absolutely not.
He was the Pakhan. If he discovered Sofia's existence...
My mind raced through terrifying possibilities—he'd steal my daughter, eliminate me, use Sofia as leverage, drag us into his lethal world...
No. I couldn't allow that.
I inhaled deeply, forcing calm.
Stay calm, Anna. Stay calm.
Perhaps he wouldn't notice us. Large neighborhood, neighbors needn't interact. If I remained careful, avoided him, kept irregular hours, didn't linger in the yard...
Yes, I could manage this.
Five years ago, I escaped him. Now, I could hide myself and my daughter right under his nose.
Just stay careful. Stay cautious...
For Sofia, I had to make it.
"Mommy?" Sofia's voice returned me to reality. "Your hands are shaking."
I looked down—they trembled violently, like autumn leaves in wind.
"Mommy's just cold." I forced what must have been a ghastly smile. "Sweetheart, go play in your room, okay? Mommy needs to handle work matters."
Sofia hesitated but nodded obediently and left.
Once alone, I rushed to the window, fingers shaking as I created a tiny gap in the curtains, peering carefully outside.
The neighboring house sat silent, no visible activity.
But I knew he was there.
The man I hadn't seen in five years, yet had never truly forgotten.