Page 23 of Capuleto

As soon as I was alone with my mother, I appreciated the silence. I rolled my fingers over my temples with my eyes closed and immediately opened them when she threw a question that completely threw me off.

11

Some mothers do not support their children

"A

re you sure it was the Chinese woman who kidnapped you?" I focused my gaze on her. We both knew each other well enough to sense that something was off. Could she suspect that Yuri was alive? They say mothers have a sixth sense for these things, although my mother's maternal instinct was somewhat complex. I preferred to find out what she knew.

"What do you mean?" I feigned ignorance.

"You can tell me. You've been acting very odd, and the whole thing in Greece was most bizarre. We both know you married without love for your husband, which has led me to the following conclusion: do you have a lover?" she asked, nonchalantly. "Given the huge mess that's unfolding, if you're involved with another man and Santorini was a bad idea from a spurned lover, we need to start thinking about this now."

"What the hell are you talking about? Not all of us are like you, mother," I retorted, offended. If it stung her, she showed no signs of it. "I remind you that they also tried to kidnap Sarka, it wasn't just me."

She looked nervously from side to side, then started fidgeting with her finger in a way that was typical of Jelena Koroleva when she was caught in a misdeed. Just like that time when father was away on a trip, and upon his return, he found Putin having breakfast at our house. Since he was the president, nothing happened, he had the upper hand if he did anything to him, or to his wife's lover, who claimed to be just passing through and had forgotten he was away.

I intensified my gaze on my mother. There was something she was keeping quiet about. I thought about Sarka. Yuri had interrogated the Chinese, and it didn't seem like they were behind what had happened. I thought it might have been a coincidence, but coincidences do not exist in my world.

"Was it possible that my mother had seen or heard something that revealed who was behind it? Could it be that perhaps Massimo or Don Giuliano were involved? And if so, what was their motivation?"

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"What does that look mean? Do you know something I don’t?"

My mother could lie very well to men, but not to me.

"You shouldn't have sent her to Russia. You have no idea what you’ve done."

"What does sending her to Russia have to do with her kidnapping attempt?"

"That man..." My mother could drive me crazy with her unfinished sentences.

"What man?" Was there something in Saint Petersburg that I didn’t know about? Perhaps another emerging group had threatened her, and my mother hadn't told me?

"Olga’s father," she grumbled, exasperated.

"The music teacher at the school is from the Bratva?"

"No! Well, not that I know of."

"Then what?"

"It's just that your sister likes him, and you’ve sent her into the lion’s den." I blinked in disbelief.

"For God's sake, mother! Just because you throw yourself at every man wearing trousers doesn’t mean we all do the same. Well, maybe I do a bit. But Sarka? Have you seen her? She’s just a kid!"

"Not anymore. She might be a virgin, but she likes her friend's father. I read it in her diary."

Why was I not surprised that my mother had done something as despicable as snooping through my sister's diary?

"Mom!"

"What?! I was worried! She had never talked to me about boys, I thought she was Bolivian."

She used the term in Spanish, as if it offended her to say it in Russian. I admit, it took me a moment to understand what she meant.

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