“By telling the truth. She’s old enough to understand.”
She didn’t mention that she had been in touch with their daughter for several months—that it was Katya who insisted on finding her brother, that she had even found a private detective who helped locate Kirill.
“What if he doesn’t accept us? What if he ends up hating me?”
“Then we’ll wait. As long as it takes.”
Viktor looked at his wife, feeling as if he were seeing a completely different person before him. The girl he had met twenty-five years ago had transformed into a woman whom time had not only made wiser but also stronger.
Over the three years, Larisa had not only overcome the pain of betrayal but had learned to love Viktor’s son as if he were her own. It seemed incredible.
“Then why do you love me at all?” Viktor suddenly asked, surprising even himself.
She laughed softly: “Because you’re genuine. With all your fears, your insecurities, and even with these secrets. Let’s go to sleep,” she added gently, touching his shoulder. “Tomorrow is going to be a challenging day.”
