Page 178 of Porcelain Lies

But doubts creep in just as fast.

Do I really want to know? Would it change anything if I found out that he was…killed?

I started this. I asked Hannah to start digging. But right now, I’m torn. I’m not supposed to contact anyone from my old life, and I’m finally starting to understand why, given Aleksei’s position asPakhan. And now that we’ve slipped into this honeymoon phase, I’m not even sure I want to break the magic.

Tension hooks into my chest, snapping taut when Boyana’s derisive laugh cuts through my thoughts.

“Fuck the rules. He’s not even in the house,”she sneers, her voice sharp and cold as ice.

I hesitate, but she’s right. Once again, Aleksei’s gone. No explanations, no promises of when he’ll be back, just empty space stretching between me and the ghost of what could be a relationship. This could be my chance. Myonlychance.

Snapping myself out of my racing thoughts, I retreat to the bathroom. The walls are closer here, creating the illusion of safety even though the knot in my chest tightens further. I take off the tracker in case my heart rate betrays me, and then I turn on the shower, letting the sound of water drum against the tile, masking anything I might say. I press my back against the cold tiled wall, trying to convince myself that this is just another call. Just Hannah, my bestie.

My fingers are shaking so hard I almost drop the phone as I dial her number.

She answers on the first ring. “Jesus, Stella, I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“I know,” I whisper, lowering myself to the edge of the tub. My grip on the phone tightens; the metal digs into my palm. “I’m sorry, I have to be careful.”

“I get it. Where you are…” she trails off, her tone growing heavier. “It’s dangerous, Stel.”

I close my eyes, resting a hand over my stomach as fear flickers through me. “Don’t worry, I’m okay. Did you find something?”

Her pause stretches across the line, pulling at me like threads unraveling a delicate seam. “Stella, I… you need to prepare yourself for what I’m going to tell you,” she finally says, her voice low. It lands like a thud in the hollow of my chest.

The ache clutches tighter, blooming into something jagged. “What do you mean? What did you find?”

“Are you sitting? I’m afraid this might…”

“Jesus Han, just spit it out already,” I snap, then exhale. “Sorry. I’m strung out.”

“It’s okay. I get it,” she says.” I hear the faint rustle of paper on Hannah’s end. With every second that passes, it feels like she’s flipping a switch deep inside me. “I started with your family records in St. Petersburg,” she says slowly. “Three years before you were born, your parents had… another daughter.”

A what??

The words hit me like a splash of ice water, pulling me out of my body and slamming me squarely into buried memories — half-remembered stories punctuated by my uncle Igor’s drunken slurs, my parents’ nervous smiles as they waved those stories away as nonsense.

Oh, God.

My uncle hadn’t been making that up.

“A daughter?” My voice cracks like brittle glass.

“Yes. Boyana Larkina. Your parents were medical students at the time, Stella. They were so young, struggling…” She pauses, her voice growing softer, sadder. “They had to give her up. She was adopted.”

My hand flies to my chest, pressing down hard to hold in the ache spreading there. A phantom weight twists, sharp and painful. “Boyana,” I husk out. “She was real. Oh my God, Han…”

Boyana.

A name I’ve whispered to the wind since I was a small child, desperate for a connection I never understood. A connection, I somehow still have. All those years of my parents calling me delusional, waving away my questions with well-worn lies —they knew.

“There’s more,” Hannah says before I can gather my crumbling thoughts. Her voice turns urgent. “She was adopted by a very wealthy family. The Novikovs. Apparently, she lives here in LA… goes by Sofia Novikova.”

The Novikovs. SofiaNovikova. My mind stumbles and then shatters, pieces falling into place with horrifying clarity. That name.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit!

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