Page 30 of Mr. and Mrs. Novak

No one takes the bait. Sophia remains silent for a moment, lost in thought. And then, it hits me. She just interrogated us without us even realizing it. Her sharp mind is already piecing the puzzle together.

Fuck, I’m really going to have to go through with this twisted plan.

I think back to the envelope Nicolas handed me when they arrived. I had slipped away to my room for a moment to examine its contents. Three photos. Three perfectly crafted lies.

The first one shows me holding Natasha in my arms. We look happy—really happy. And, more importantly, we look ten years younger. The edges are worn, as if I had run my fingers over the paper countless times, like someone caressing a cherished memory.

The second one is even more damning. We're older, locked in what seems to be a passionate, sincere kiss. A stolen image of a happiness that never existed.

The last one is the most intimate. I'm embracing Natasha from behind, she’s wrapped in nothing but a bedsheet, and my outstretched arm suggests I’m taking a selfie of the two of us.

The work is remarkable. The expert outdid himself. Every detail has been thought through, down to the signs of wear on the first photo, as if I had looked at it a thousand times.

I snap back to the present, where Daisy and Caroline are animatedly discussing the demands of their next contract—a campaign for a major luxury brand.

Later in the evening, as our guests enjoy their after-dinner drinks in the living room, Caroline, who knows about our time in foster care, suddenly leans toward Sophia, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Tell us, Sophia, what was Ruslan like when you were kids? You must have a good story about him."

Sophia’s gaze drifts into the past, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"It was the summer I turned ten. I had followed Ruslan and my brother, Raphaël, to the climbing site where they used to train. Hidden behind the rocks, I watched them for hours, fascinated. Their agility, their confidence, the way they defied gravity… After that, I begged my brother to take me with them, but he refused, saying I was too young. So I decided to train on my own.

I started climbing, higher and higher, until fear paralyzed me. I was frozen, unable to move, terrified of the height. I don’t know how long I was stuck up there, but eventually, they came looking for me and found me."

Her voice trembles slightly at the memory.

"Raphaël started scolding me, but Ruslan… He didn’t say a word. He just started climbing. When he reached me, he spoke softly, with that voice that always calmed my fears: ‘Don’t worry, Sophia, I’m here. I’ll help you. Do you trust me?’

I looked straight into his eyes, and I knew, deep in my soul, that I would follow him to the ends of the earth. I nodded, and with infinite patience, he guided my every move until I reached solid ground… I think that was the day my heart chose him."

There’s a note of sadness in her voice that guts me. Have I really tarnished all her memories of us? The thought is unbearable, pushing me to give her a raw, unfiltered truth.

"I would’ve gone to the ends of the earth for you too," I murmur hoarsely, my gaze locked onto hers.

I take her hand and rest it on her lap before turning to our friends.

"As you all know, the Delorme house took in a lot of kids over the years. Some only stayed for a while, others until they turned eighteen, and some still visit from time to time. A few months after this episode, I got into a fight with another foster kid. The Delormes punished us both, unable to figure out who was telling the truth. I was furious. Once again, no one believed me. Sure, my troubled past didn’t help, but I had been trying to change ever since I got there.

Blinded by rage and disappointment, I left in a rush, swearing I’d never come back. A storm caught me in the ruins where I had taken refuge. The sky poured down freezing rain, and as the sun set, it took the last traces of warmth with it.

That’s when I saw her—a small silhouette running toward me through the downpour. Sophia. She was soaked to the bone, but her eyes burned with fierce determination. She threw her arms around me, like she had been afraid she wouldn’t find me, and simply said, ‘I believe you. And I’ll prove it.’ Then she took my hand and led me back to her parents’ house.

She was only eleven. Two days later, she found a way to get the other kid to confess to everything.

It was the first time since my mother’s death that someone had fought for me. That was the day I knew Sophia would always have a special place in my life."

As if those memories stirred too many emotions, Sophia excuses herself and heads toward the balcony terrace to get some fresh air. I follow her, leaving our friends to their conversation.

The view of Paris lit up at night is breathtaking, but I see only her. Her graceful silhouette stands out in the soft light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the spring breeze stirring the folds of her dress like waves of silk. I approach quietly and drape my jacket over her bare shoulders.

"It’s still cool out, even with milder temperatures," I murmur. "You should be careful."

"What are you afraid of?" she asks. "Having to play nursemaid?"

There’s a note of challenge in her voice that makes me smile.

"No. That would just give me a good reason to stay close to you."