This time, he had been cheated on—because he couldn’t shower his girlfriend with expensive gifts. That’s life. No money—no love.
From now on, he would see women as nothing more than objects. Use them, move on, goodbye. There was no more room in his life for trust, sincerity, dreams, or hope. Just him and his own life. That was it.
At the same time, Lana continued to nurture her dream of being with Robert. Now, nothing stood between them. Viktoriya had handed him over to her. She left. They broke up. Lana hadn’t stood between them while they were together—she’d only been a friend. It wasn’t her fault Viktoriya had made her choice. Lana had a right to happiness too—just like Robert. And she would fight for it.
“In two weeks we’ll take off your bandages and go to the city clinic for a head scan,” Aunt Masha told her.
“A head scan?” Viktoriya asked, surprised.
“Well, I don’t know what it’s called. We’ll check your little head—make sure everything’s okay,” she replied warmly, gently stroking Viktoriya’s hair and shoulder.
The girl laid her head on the woman’s chest and closed her eyes.
One day, Viktoriya had asked her:
“Can we not part ways? When I leave, I want to always come back here. Like to a mother.”
The woman had stroked her hair, kissed her, and said,
“You’d make me very happy if you came back.”
A few days later, a guy in an SUV arrived. He greeted her as he entered the house. Viktoriya was alone. When she turned and saw him, she recoiled in fear. His eyes looked painfully familiar. She recognized him. He had been part of her ex’s security detail—the same “benefactor” who had nearly killed her.
“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you,” he said, standing in the doorway.
Aunt Masha was out in the shed. Hearing voices, she quickly came inside.
“Aunt Masha, don’t give me to him!” Viktoriya begged, rushing over.
“Hello, son. Come in,” she said to the tall, well-built man with short blond hair.
Then, turning to Viktoriya, she hugged her and said, “I won’t give you to anyone, don’t be afraid, my girl. He’s a protector—he won’t hurt you. Don’t worry. This is Ruslan, my son. He’s the one who found you and brought you here. He saved you, sweetheart.”
“What??”
Ruslan stood quietly, his eyes downcast, afraid to speak—afraid to scare her even more.
Eventually, they calmed her down and explained everything. The memories hurt, even as whispers, but she had to revisit that day. After she was thrown into the lake and left for dead, two of the guards had gone to a bar and gotten completely wasted. They had genuinely felt sorry for her—but it had been an order. Eliminate. They couldn’t disobey. That night, Ruslan went to pick them up from the bar. Drunk, they told him everything in detail. Once he dropped them off, he raced to the lake in the dark. He didn’t even know the exact spot. But by morning, he found her—barely alive—on the very Sorrowful Shore where they so often found the dead.
Viktoriya covered her face and finally let herself cry. She had held it all in for so long, pushing away the darkness. Now it burst out of her. She sat straight at the table—her bandages wouldn’t let her bend—and sobbed out loud. Weeping for her former self. That fragile, helpless girl who was nearly killed and thrown into a lake. Aunt Masha cried with her, as if they were burying someone.
Ruslan jumped up, pacing between them, unsure how to help. Then he ran outside, got in his car, and sped off.
