Children’s laughter. High-pitched, uninhibited. The kind that comes from genuine play rather than forced entertainment. I pause on the landing and turn toward the sound. Through the tall windows overlooking the east grounds, I can see movement. Two small figures running across the lawn, chasing each other in circles.
Mila and Alexei.
I change direction and head toward the garden doors. The laughter gets louder as I approach. I can see them more clearly now through the glass. Mila is in a yellow dress, pigtails bouncing as she runs. Alexei chases her with a toy airplane, making engine noises that carry across the garden.
I open the door and step outside.
Anna is sitting on a bench twenty feet away, a book in her lap that she clearly wasn’t reading. Her head snaps up the moment she hears the door. Her eyes lock on me, and her entire body goes rigid.
“Mila. Alexei.” Her voice cuts across the lawn. “Come here. Now.”
The laughter stops. Both children freeze mid-run and look at their mother. Then they look at me. Mila’s expression shifts from joy to uncertainty. Alexei’s face goes blank.
“Now,” Anna says again, standing.
They run to her without hesitation. She puts a hand on each of their shoulders and steers them toward a different entrance, one that leads back into the house through the conservatory. She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t acknowledge my presence at all. Just removes the children from my vicinity like I’m a threat she needs to neutralize.
Within thirty seconds, they’re gone.
I stand alone in the garden, listening to silence where laughter used to be.
This has been happening for a week. Every single time I get within proximity of those children, Anna intervenes. Every time.
Three days ago, I came down to breakfast and found them in the dining room. Mila was chattering about something while Alexei pushed eggs around his plate. The moment I entered, Anna stood up, announced they weren’t hungry after all, and took them back upstairs. The food on their plates was barely touched.
Five days ago, I found them in the library. Anna was reading to them from a picture book, both children curled against her onthe leather sofa. I stood in the doorway for maybe ten seconds before Anna noticed me. She closed the book mid-sentence, stood up, and walked out with the twins trailing behind her. Alexei looked back at me once before Anna pulled him through the door.
Yesterday evening, I was passing their rooms and heard them playing inside. Some game involving toy cars and a racetrack based on the sound effects Alexei was making. I paused at the doorway, didn’t even step inside, just stood there listening. Anna appeared in the hallway behind me, moved past me without a word, entered the room, and closed the door in my face.
She’s not just protective. She’s actively erasing my presence from their lives.
I walk back inside and head to my study. Pavel is already there, reviewing something on his tablet. He looks up when I enter. “Problem?” he asks.
“Anna returned the gifts.”
“All of them?”
“Every single one.”
I’d ordered the gifts two days ago. Age-appropriate toys, books, and educational materials. Things that would give me a reason to interact with the children, establish some kind of connection that didn’t require Anna’s permission. I had them delivered to their rooms while Anna was meeting with the estate manager about household arrangements.
This morning, I found everything stacked outside my study door. The toys are still in their packaging, and the books untouched.
“She’s not going to make this easy,” Pavel says.
“I didn’t expect it to be easy. I expected rational.” I sit behind my desk. “She lives in my house. Her children live in my house. I’m providing security, resources, and everything they need. And she treats me like I’m planning to harm them.”
“Maybe she thinks you are.”
“Why would she think that?”
Pavel sets down his tablet. “You forced her into this marriage. You threatened her family. From her perspective, you’re the enemy.”
“From her perspective, I’m the reason her children have a future instead of poverty.”
“That’s your perspective.”
I lean back in my chair. “What did you find in the background report?”
