Page 81 of Porcelain Lies

Chapter Twenty-Three

Aleksei

My phone vibrates against the desk, Bobik’s name lighting up the screen. Work can wait.

“Papa!” His excitement bursts through the speaker. “The new controls arrived for my chair. They’re incredible!”

The edge of my mouth lifts. “Show me.”

Through video, I watch him demonstrate the voice commands, his dark eyes sparkling as the chair responds to each instruction. His small hands gesture animatedly while explaining the technical specifications.

“The neural interface adapts to my thought patterns. Soon I won’t need voice commands at all.”

“Molodets.” Pride wells in my chest. At 10, he already understands technology better than most adults. “I’ll come see it in person.”

“Really? When?”

I check the time. “Give me an hour.”

His grin mirrors his mother’s — the only thing Olga ever gave him besides life itself. The call ends, and I grab my keys, already dreading what I’ll find at the house.

The drive gives me too much time to think. Olga’s appearance at our last meeting haunts me — hollow cheeks, sallow skin, far too thin. She brushed off my questions about doctors, but there’s something wrong. I know it.

I scowl as I think about it. Bobik needs his mother, damaged spine or not. The thought of him losing her…

I press harder on the accelerator, the Bentley’s engine purring as I weave through traffic. Numbers scroll through my head — doctors to call, specialists to fly in, whatever it takes. Olga won’t accept help easily, her stubborn pride matching mine. But for Bobik’s sake, I’ll find a way.

The familiar streets of Olga’s affluent neighborhood approach. Here, away from the Bratva’s eyes, I can be just a father visiting his son. No weapons, no business, no blood. Just my son’s smile and his endless curiosity about the world.

I go through the security gates and reach the front door. It opens before I can knock. Olga’s gaunt frame fills the doorway, and my stomach clenches. Dark circles ring her eyes, her cheekbones sharp enough to cast shadows.

“Hello, Aleksei.” She tugs her cardigan tighter, but it only emphasizes her bony shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” I step closer, scanning her face. “You look—”

“It’s just early menopause.” She waves off my concern with a thin hand. “The doctor says it’s normal to feel tired.”

Bullshit. I’ve seen enough lies to recognize this one. Her eyes drop away too quickly, her shoulders too tense. Whatever’s wrong, she’s hiding it deliberately.

“Which doctor?”

“Aleksei, please.” She sighs. “I don’t need you interrogating—”

“Papa!Come see!” Bobik’s voice rings out from inside, bright with excitement.

Olga seizes the interruption, stepping back to let me pass. “He’s been practicing with the controls all morning.”

I want to grab her arm, force answers about her health, but Bobik’s wheelchair hums as he maneuvers into view. His face lights up at the sight of me, and for now, I let Olga’s secrets slide. My son needs this moment more than I need answers.

But I won’t let it go. Whatever’s going on with Olga’s, I’ll find out. If she won’t tell me willingly, there are other ways to get medical information.

I follow Bobik into his room, taking in the familiar sight of science textbooks stacked on every surface. His latest obsession — quantum mechanics — fills an entire shelf. Not typical reading for a 10-year-old, but my son has never been typical.

“Look what I learned,Papa.” Bobik wheels to his desk, picking up a model of DNA. His small fingers trace the double helix. “Did you know our genes can be modified using CRISPR technology? The applications for medical treatment are fascinating.”

My chest tightens as he launches into a detailed explanation of genetic manipulation. The words flow effortlessly — terms and descriptions that go straight over my head. His mind works at a level that makes me both proud and ache for what could have been.

“Want to play chess?” He sets aside the model, already reaching for the board. “I’ve been studying new strategies.”

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