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“Yes,” I say, and this time my voice rises. “You. I heard you on the phone. At the party. You said you couldn’t get to her once Nikolai arrived. You said you would handle it. You wanted to hand over Anya to someone.”

Irina stares at me. For one second, she looks honestly stunned. “You stupid girl,” she says.

Viktor says, “Irina, don’t.”

“No, she can hear this too.” Irina points at me. “I was talking to my parents.”

My mind refuses to fit the words together. “Your parents?”

“Yes. Anya’s grandparents. Sofia’s parents.” Her voice cracks on Sofia’s name, but anger covers it almost immediately. “Nikolai doesn’t let them meet her because of the lies they told when the marriage was arranged. He cut them off. He doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

She stops.

Then she adds, quieter and crueler, “Except me. He liked me. Until you came here.”

Viktor’s jaw tightens. “That’s enough.”

Irina looks at him. “Is it?”

I look from her to him, trying to catch up. “You were trying to give Anya to Sofia’s parents?”

“No,” Viktor says quickly. “No one was handing Anya over.”

“But you were hiding something,” I say.

Viktor rubs a hand over his face. “This isn’t how I wanted to do this.”

“Then do it anyway,” I say.

He looks toward the main hall, then back at me. “Anya’s grandparents wanted some of Sofia’s things back. Personal items. Jewelry. A few letters. Things Nikolai locked away after she died.”

“So, you stole it,” I say.

“It isn’t like that.”

“That’s exactly what that sounds like.”

“They deserve it,” Viktor says, frustration breaking through now. “He doesn’t even look at any of it. He put her whole life in boxes and locked it in the attic like that would make it disappear.”

Irina’s eyes shine. “Those things belonged to Sofia.”

“They belonged to this house,” I say, though I am not sure why I say it. Maybe because I need one thing to be simple and nothing is.

Viktor looks at me. “You don’t understand.”

“No,” I say. “I really don’t.” My head is spinning.

All the events of the last few weeks flash through my mind. Everything feels connected and separate at the same time.

“I need a minute,” I say.

Irina opens her mouth again, but Viktor blocks her with a look.

“Let her go,” he says.

I turn before either of them can stop me. The house has become even busier. A man carries a garment bag past me. The front doors are open, and outside, black cars wait in the drive, waiting to sweep us away.

Less than two hours. They leave in less than two hours.