Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Anna
The next day, I walked with Sofia around the manor, carefully avoiding areas where Alexander might appear.
I was still angry about last night's fight, but more than that, I felt a chill deep inside.
His words had sliced through me like a blade, leaving raw wounds on my heart.
Maybe Tatyana was right—Sofia and I were nothing more than his dependents now, living off his charity.
"Mommy, you look sad today," Sofia said, gazing up at me with concern. "Is it because you and Alex fought yesterday?"
I forced a smile. "No, sweetheart. Mommy's just a little tired. Want to go look at the roses in the garden?"
Walking past the living room, I saw Mark carrying a tray of delicate French Macarons toward the study. The colorful confections looked expensive, each one decorated like a work of art.
I was puzzled. No one in the manor ever ate these cloyingly sweet treats. Sofia and I didn't like them, and Alexander never touched sweets. He usually only drank black coffee with simple crackers.
"Mark," I called out, stopping him. "Who are these for?"
Mark paused respectfully. "Miss Tatyana is coming to discuss important business with Mr. Volkov. These are her favorite refreshments."
Tatyana was coming again? My expression darkened. I'd thought that after yesterday's fight, Alexander would at least keep some distance from Tatyana for my sake.
Then I noticed Mark's hesitant expression.
"Mark, is there something else?"
Mark hesitated before speaking. "Miss Tatyana might be staying for a while. It's just a work arrangement, but please don't read too much into it, ma'am."
I felt like I'd been punched in the chest. Staying for a while? She was going to live here?
"How long?" I tried to keep my voice steady.
"I'm not sure exactly. It's Mr. Volkov's arrangement." Mark looked uncomfortable. "You could ask him for details."
I nodded that I understood, but inside, I was crumbling. She was actually going to live here—in mine and Sofia's home.
That afternoon, I watched the staff busily preparing a guest room for Tatyana. It was the finest room in the manor after the master bedroom, at the end of the second-floor corridor, with the best views and most luxurious furnishings.
Tatyana was there personally overseeing the arrangements, elegantly directing the servants on where to place vases and change the linens. She had specific requirements for every detail, as if this were her domain.
"This vase would look better on the windowsill," she said gently but with authority. "And could we change to Egyptian cotton sheets? I'm allergic to regular cotton."
She offered several suggestions about the room's décor, clearly intimate with every aspect of the manor. Her practiced ease made me realize she must have stayed here frequently before.
I stood in the doorway watching it all, anger rising at this invasion. This was my home, mine and Sofia's home, yet she was claiming it so effortlessly.
The dinner scene was even more suffocating.
Tatyana sat beside Alexander, wearing an elegant black evening dress, her manner refined and articulate. She and Alexander spoke in low voices about business matters, their easy familiarity making me feel like an unwelcome intruder.
"Sofia, did you have fun playing in the garden today?" Tatyana turned to Sofia warmly.
"Yes!" Sofia answered innocently. "I drew a picture of a rainbow! Miss Tatyana, are you going to live with us?"
"Yes, sweetheart," Tatyana smiled gently. "Alexander and I have some important work to handle, so I'll be staying here for a while. But don't worry about me, Sofia. Alexander and I are very good friends—I used to stay here often before."
Her words pierced my heart like needles. Used to stay here often? What did that mean? That before I arrived, she had been the lady of this house?
I stared at my food without tasting it, every bite like swallowing stones. Sofia chatted excitedly with Tatyana while Alexander occasionally joined in, and in this perfect family tableau, I was the outsider.
"I'm not feeling well," I finally couldn't bear it anymore. "I'm going to bed early."
Alexander glanced up at me, exhaustion flickering in his eyes. "Get some rest."
Back in my room, I could hear Tatyana's silvery laughter drifting up from downstairs. That carefree, melodious sound only agitated me further. I began to wonder whether Alexander had truly let go of the past, or if I'd been deceiving myself all along.
Perhaps in his heart, Tatyana had never really left. And I was just a temporary substitute.
Late at night, I lay in bed tossing and turning, unable to sleep. The empty space beside me was a stark reminder that Alexander hadn't returned to our room again.
At two in the morning, parched with thirst, I decided to go downstairs for water.
Passing the study, I noticed light still glowing inside and heard muffled voices. I intended to walk straight past, but Tatyana's voice stopped me cold.
"The little girl plays on the east side of the garden every afternoon at three o'clock," she said in a crisp, businesslike tone. "She's put to bed at exactly eight every night."
I froze, my heart hammering. Who was she talking to? Why was she reporting Sofia's routine?
"Five years old, red hair, brown eyes, approximately three and a half feet tall," Tatyana continued. "She typically wears pink or purple clothing. Very easy to identify."
My blood turned to ice. She was giving a detailed physical description of Sofia!
I crept closer to the door, straining to hear more clearly.
"Yes, she often plays alone in the garden with just one maid watching from a distance," Tatyana said. "Security measures... aren't as stringent as you might expect. At least not in the garden area."
A man's satisfied voice came through the phone. Though I couldn't make out the words, I could sense the malevolent intent.
My hands began trembling violently. Tatyana was selling information about Sofia! She was helping someone plan a kidnapping!
I practically burst into Alexander's bedroom.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed reviewing documents, his brow furrowing when he saw my frantic state. "Anna? It's so late—what's wrong?"
"Tatyana!" I stammered, shaking. "She's... she's selling information about Sofia!"
"What?" He set down his papers, alertness flashing in his eyes.
"I just passed the study and heard her on the phone describing Sofia's appearance in detail—her schedule, the security gaps in the manor!" I grabbed his arm desperately. "Alexander, she's going to hurt Sofia! You have to believe me!"
Alexander's expression grew complex as he studied my eyes, seeming to weigh my words.
"Are you certain you heard correctly?" he asked.
"I'm positive!" I said urgently. "She said Sofia plays in the east garden at three every afternoon, goes to bed at eight, and she described exactly what Sofia looks like and what she wears!"
Alexander was silent for a moment, then stood. "I'll go verify this with her."
I followed close behind, my heart torn between terror and hope—terror for the danger Sofia might face, and hope that Alexander would finally see Tatyana's true nature.
We arrived at the study where Tatyana was organizing documents. Seeing us enter, she looked up with a warm smile.
"Alexander? Still up so late?" She glanced at me. "Anna, too. Is something the matter?"
"Anna says she overheard you discussing Sofia on the phone," Alexander said directly. "Can you explain?"
Tatyana looked momentarily startled, then her face cleared with understanding. "Oh, you mean that phone call?"
She gave a light laugh. "I was arranging the relocation of an important witness's daughter. This little girl bears a striking resemblance to Sofia in age and appearance. I was confirming the security protocols at the safe house."
She retrieved a file from the desk. "Look, here's the case documentation. To ensure a safe transfer, I need detailed information about the subject's physical characteristics and behavioral patterns."
I stared at the file in disbelief. There was indeed a photograph and profile of a little girl whose age and features were remarkably similar to Sofia's.
"Pure coincidence," Tatyana explained smoothly. "I completely understand Anna's alarm. Any mother would be terrified hearing that kind of conversation. But it truly was just work-related."
Alexander examined the file, then turned to me. "Anna, you see? This really is a misunderstanding."
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The documentation looked authentic, but every instinct screamed that something was wrong.
"But... but she knew too many specific details," I persisted. "Sofia's exact daily routine..."
"Because I've been staying here these past few days," Tatyana said gently. "Naturally, I've observed her schedule. This information helps verify protective measures."
Her explanation sounded perfectly reasonable, but warning bells continued clanging in my head.
"Anna," Alexander said wearily, "you're being paranoid. I hope you won't let personal feelings interfere with your judgment of the bigger picture."
I felt the world tilting around me. The man I trusted most was dismissing my concerns as paranoia when my daughter might be in mortal danger.
"Personal feelings?" My voice began to shake. "You think I'm saying this out of jealousy?"
"I didn't say that—"
"That's exactly what you meant!" I lost all control. "My daughter's life means less to you than your ex-girlfriend's word!"
"Anna, calm down—"
"I am calm!" I shouted. "Calm enough to see everything clearly! You don't care about us at all—you only care about her!"
The room fell into mortifying silence. Tatyana stood quietly aside, and I caught what looked like a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes.
"Enough," Alexander finally said, his voice glacial. "Go back to your room and rest. Stop letting your imagination run wild."
Those ice-cold words shattered the last barrier protecting my heart. Imagination? In his eyes, my maternal instinct to protect my daughter was nothing but paranoid fantasy?
I turned and walked out without another word. Back in the bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart turned to ash.
The room was quiet except for Sofia's peaceful breathing. I gazed at her sleeping face and felt a surge of fierce, primal protectiveness.
I realized I could no longer depend on anyone else. Alexander had chosen to believe Tatyana over me, and that told me everything I needed to know. In his heart, I ranked far below that blonde woman.
To protect Sofia, I would have to rely solely on myself.
I had to get her away from this dangerous place immediately.
I crept to the closet and began gathering essentials—passports, important documents, some cash, and Sofia's favorite toys.
Tomorrow morning, while everyone was still asleep, I would take Sofia and leave.
Leave this place I had once believed was home.
Leave this man who no longer trusted me.
My only goal was protecting my daughter, even if it meant facing unknown perils alone.