“Of course,” he says carefully. “What do you want to know?”
“Did you ever try to find her?” My fingers grip the phone until it hurts. “After she left, did you look for her?”
“I looked for years, Dinara. I went to St. Petersburg twice, hired an investigator, and spent money we couldn’t spare. I followed every lead I could, but nothing.” Frustration bleeds through his voice. “Sonya, the woman I married—that woman didn’t exist.”
A cold weight anchors itself behind my ribs. “I’m sorry, Papa,” is all I can manage to say.
“After two years of searching, I let it go.” His voice drops. “I had you to think about. A little girl who needed her father to be present, not chasing ghosts across Russia.”
Tears blur my vision and I try to swallow the sounds rising in my throat. I’m sure this is hard enough for him.
“I’m sorry I never told you. I didn’t want to open up an old wound.”
“But what if she didn’t leave because she wanted to?” The words burst out of me, but they need to be said. “What if something happened to her?”
The pause that follows is loaded.
“Dinara,” he says sadly. “What’s going on? Why are you asking about this now?”
My pulse spikes. I could tell him everything. About the dreams, the repressed memories, the cathedral dome tattoos. About Marina Voronina and the Kupola Network.
But what if I’m wrong? He’s happy again. After years of grief and darkness, Hope and Kin brought light back into his life. And here I am, thousands of miles away, playing a game that could destroy everything.
“Nothing, Papa. I’m sorry.” I force my voice steady. “I think I’m just stressed and overthinking. You know how I get when I’m tired, my brain spirals.”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t respond immediately. “If something’s wrong,” he says at last, “you need to tell me.”
“I know. And I promise, I’m fine. Just missing home.”
“We miss you too, princess. Call me when you can, okay? Even if it’s just to say hello. I like hearing your voice.”
“I will. I love you, Papa.”
“I love you too, Dinochka. More than you know.”
I end the call. The weight of everything presses down on me. Wiping my eyes, I stare down at the phone in my hands.
“Dinara?”
I turn to find Kirill in the doorway, his face creased in concern.
“What happened? Why are you crying?”
He sits beside me and pulls me into his arms. I go willingly, burying my face in his chest.
“I just talked to my father.”
His hand strokes my hair, the other wrapping securely around my waist. “Tell me.”
So I do. The whole conversation pours out. Asking about my mother, learning he searched for years and found nothing, the fake identity and dead ends. How I wanted to tell him the truth but couldn’t, not without proof.
He pulls back to look at me, his thumbs wiping away my tears. “Your father is stronger than you think. And the truth, however brutal, is better than living a lie. Trust me on that.”
There’s something in his voice, something weighted with his own pain. His own father’s lies.
“When we find out what happened to your mother, we’ll tell him together. You won’t have to do this alone. I’ll be there.”
