Chapter 9

Victor: POV

St. Petersburg welcomed us with clear skies and a biting wind that cut through my coat as we stepped off the private jet. Natalia clung to my arm, chattering about the shopping she planned to do. I tuned her out, focusing instead on the business at hand.

"I have meetings all morning," I told her as we settled into the car. "Go back to the hotel. I'll find you when I'm done."

She pouted but didn't argue.

The meeting with Gazprom executives went smoothly. By noon, we had signed an agreement that would increase Korsolov Energy's distribution network by thirty percent. It was a significant victory, but I felt nothing as I shook hands with the board members.

Just as I was preparing to leave, my phone rang.

"Viktor," she whined, "I'm bored. Come shopping with me."

"I'm busy," I replied automatically.

"Please? I've found this amazing boutique, but I need your opinion. You have such good taste."

I sighed, checking my watch. It was just past two. "Fine. Text me the address."

I didn't know why I agreed. Perhaps because an afternoon of mindless shopping was better than returning to an empty hotel room with nothing but my thoughts for company.

The boutique was crowded with St. Petersburg's elite, browsing racks of designer clothes that cost more than most people made in a month. Natalia immediately disappeared among the displays, leaving me standing awkwardly near the entrance.

That's when I noticed them—two children, a boy and a girl, perhaps five years old, examining a rack of women's dresses with surprising seriousness. They were stunning children, with golden hair and an air of precociousness that was immediately apparent.

"I think Mom would look beautiful in this one," the girl said, pointing to a deep green dress.

"It matches her eyes," the boy agreed. "But she never wears green. Says it reminds her of bad memories."

The girl asked, “Then this white one? It must be gorgeous if our mom wears it.”

The boy said, “Wonderful. Let’s buy it.”

Something about them drew me closer. I wasn't fond of children generally—they were loud, unpredictable, messy—but these two had an unusual gravity about them.

The boy turned slightly, and I froze. It was like looking into a mirror that reflected the past. He had my face—my eyes, my jawline, even the slight furrow between his brows as he concentrated. How was this possible?

My phone rang, breaking the spell. I stepped outside to take the call, my mind racing.

In my absence, however, a drama unfolded inside the boutique. Natalia had spotted the same white dress the children were admiring and decided she wanted it for herself.

"Excuse me, little ones," she said, reaching over the girl's head to snatch the dress from the rack. "I'll be taking this."

The girl—Lina—turned with surprise. "We were just looking at that dress."

"Well, I'm buying it," Natalia responded, her voice dripping with condescension.

Maxim stepped forward, his small face set with determination. "We saw it first. We're getting it for our mother's birthday."

Natalia laughed dismissively. "Children shouldn't be shopping for women's clothing. What would you know about fashion? Run along and find your nanny."

"We don't have a nanny," Lina replied calmly. "And we know our mother's taste better than anyone."

"That's sweet," Natalia said with false kindness. "But this dress is a Valentino. It costs more than your entire wardrobe, I'm sure."

Maxim crossed his arms. "Money isn't an issue.”

"How adorable," Natalia smirked. "But I'm afraid this is an adult decision. This dress would be wasted on your mother, whoever she is. However, I am different.”

Lina's eyes narrowed. "My mother is Maya Pierce, the jewelry designer. Perhaps you've heard of her? She dresses celebrities and aristocrats."

A flash of recognition crossed Natalia's face, but she quickly recovered. "Well, I still saw it first."

"Actually, you didn't," Maxim pointed out. "We were holding it when you came over."

Natalia snapped, her pleasant facade crumbling. "No matter what, this is mine now. Go find something in your size."

"That's not very polite," Lina observed with a composure that belied her age. "Didn't your mother teach you manners?"

Natalia's face flushed red. "Listen, you little brats—"

"Is there a problem?" a saleswoman approached, drawn by the rising voices.

"Yes," Maxim said promptly. "This lady is trying to take the dress we selected first."

"I'm a paying customer," Natalia interjected. "These children are wasting everyone's time."

The saleswoman looked uncomfortable, clearly not wanting to offend either party.

"Perhaps I could find another dress in a similar style?" she suggested to Natalia.

"I don't want another one. I want this one," Natalia insisted, stamping her foot slightly. "My boyfriend is waiting for me, and he'll be very displeased if I'm not satisfied."

The twins sensed something and exchanged a quick glance that I would have found curious had I been present.

When I returned a few minutes later, I found Natalia arguing with the children.

"But I saw it first!" she was saying, holding the green dress the children had been admiring.

The girl—Lina—looked up at me with surprisingly composed frustration. "Sir, we found this dress first. We've been trying to explain to this lady that it's special to us. It's for our mother."

Natalia turned to me, immediately shifting her expression to a playful pout. "Viktor, I really want this dress."

I looked between her and the children, noticing how the boy—Maxim—was staring at me with an intensity that was unsettling, and I felt inexplicably heartache.

"Let them have it," I told Natalia firmly. Then to the children: "The dress is yours now. We can find something else."

Natalia looked ready to argue but thought better of it.

"Thank you," Lina said politely. "It means a lot to us."

Just then, a man emerged from the back of the store, tall, handsome, with an easy confidence that immediately identified him as someone of importance.

"Lina, Maxim, have you chosen?" he asked, smiling at the children.

"Yes!" Maxim replied, holding up the green dress triumphantly.

The man nodded. "Then let me pay for it. Your mother just called. She's finished her meeting and is waiting outside for you."

As they departed, I found myself trailing them to the door, perhaps drawn by the boy who bore a striking resemblance to my own countenance. Outside, I caught a glimpse of a slender woman with her back to me, embracing the girl. Something about her posture struck me as hauntingly familiar.

But before I could get a better look, they disappeared into the crowd, leaving me with an inexplicable sense of loss.