Page 151 of Porcelain Lies

“Thank you, Diana.” The smile I give her is radiant. I haven’t felt this lighthearted in weeks.

When the door closes behind her, I let out a breath. A sense of warmth fills me — a connection not just with Bobik, but perhaps with Diana as well.

For the first time since arriving at the manor, I feel a glimmer of belonging.

Chapter Forty-Four

Aleksei

I step off the jet, the Los Angeles night wrapping around me like a familiar cloak.

The unresolved deal with Whitmore lingers like a bitter taste.

“Svoloch’,” I mutter. Trusting an American politician was always a gamble. I’ll deal with him soon enough.

The drive to the manor is a blur of city lights and silent streets. But as the gates open and the house comes into view, my thoughts shift.

Bobik.

I need to see him. The business can wait.

Inside, the quiet hum of the manor greets me. I make my way upstairs, the polished wood of the railing cool under my fingers as I ascend. Pushing open Bobik’s door, I find him immersed in a book, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp. His head snaps up as soon as he hears me, and my chest tightens at the sight of him.

“Papa!”he exclaims, eyes bright as they meet mine.

“Privet, synok,” I say, a rare warmth spreading through me. “Still awake?”

He grins. “Tetyasaid you would be home, so I was waiting for you. I have something to tell you!”

I raise an eyebrow, stepping further into the room. “Oh? And what is so exciting that it keeps you up this late?”

“I met someone!” he bursts out. “Her name is Stella.TetyaDiana introduced us. She’s brilliant,Papa! We talked about quantum physics and neural networks. She knows so much!”

My stride falters. Stella. Her name draws up images of deep eyes, soft curves, pouting lips…

Blyad!

What the actual fuck?

“Is that so?” I say evenly. “And what did you think of her?”

A mix of emotions twist inside me — surprise, unease, anger.

Diana introduced them?

What the fuck was she thinking?

“She’s amazing! She explained complex theories so simply. And she listened to all my ideas without thinking I’m just a kid.” My son’s face is alight. It’s the happiest I’ve seen him since Olga passed.

I head further into the room and pull up a chair beside him.

“Tell me more about Stella,” I say, keeping my tone even. “What else did you discuss?”

“Everything!” He grins wide. “She knows about artificial intelligence, just like Dr. Malhotra. But she explains it in a way that makes sense. She said she’d bring me more books.”

I study his face — the flush of excitement, the animated gestures. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him this alive.

“You enjoyed her company,” I state.

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