It’s breathtaking how identical they look—both in manner and appearance. Simultaneously they embody the two halves of Vadim’s personality I’ve become the most acquainted with. The vulnerable, raw part of him that calls to the empathic part of my soul. And the calculating, vengeful mastermind always one step ahead. With every second ticking by, that selfish, pathetic hurt in my chest digs deeper, biting into my very core.
“Hello, Magda,” Vadim manages to say, once again attempting conversation.
She purses her pink lips in a deliberate show of silence, flicking her gaze throughout the room.
“Are you okay?” Vadim adds, and I do a double take. I’ve never seen him so…off-balance. So out of his element. Helpless, he rakes a hand through his hair, his eyes lacking their calculating cool.
Though Magda seems to possess more than enough for both of them.
“Am I going to live here now?” Her voice is soft, as cold as his can be but lacks any accent. “When I leave the Robinsons?”
“Y-Yes.” Vadim fumbles for a chair and sits on it, facing her. “If that is what you want—”
“So, you are a foster family?” Her eyes shift in my direction, inspecting me from head to toe. In some ways, it’s the most thorough dressing-down I think I’ve been subjected to. With a sigh, she turns her attention back to Vadim and cocks her head. “You don’t look like a foster family.”
“Or more,” Vadim says thickly. “If that is what you—”
“I hope everyone is getting acquainted,” Ms. Anderson declares as she enters the room, a briefcase in tow. “We can go over some of the paperwork, and then Magda, you can visit for as long as you’d like.”
“Can I wait in the car?” Magda asks.
“Already?” Ms. Anderson’s bright smile strains at the edges. “Don’t you want to get to know Mr. Vadim and Ms. Tiffany?”
Magda’s blue eyes flash with a hint of emotion that vanishes before I can identify it. “No.” She neatly clasps her tiny hands and marches into the hall. A second later, the front door slams shut, and Ms. Anderson collapses onto the nearest chair with a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry. Magdalene is a wonderful little girl—so brilliant. I mean, you don’t know the half. But I won’t deny that she has proven to be…challenging lately, especially for her current foster family. Two years ago, and things were wonderful, but it’s as if since her illness… Well, she decided to go from a sweet, respectful child into—” She seems to remember her current surroundings and breaks off. Clearing her throat, she shuffles through her briefcase and extracts a handful of documents. “Her placement with her current family ends on Monday,” she explains. “They’ve decided to move back to Michigan after the end of the term, though they did request a meeting with you at your earliest convenience. If it’s not too soon, Magda will be ready for placement with you as soon as Tuesday. It is unusual to move so quickly in the process. Still, after the whole teddy bear incident—” she breaks off again and coughs to disguise the action. “Anyway, with the term ending, and Magda’s unique health concerns, it could be a challenge to find a suitable family. Thankfully, I see here that you have passed all of the relevant courses.”
“Health concerns?” I hear myself croak.
“Yes.” Ms. Anderson nods. “She suffers from insulin-dependent diabetes, so she requires a strict dietary regimen and a provider qualified enough to assist with monitoring her sugars regularly. And I’m sure you’re aware of the unfortunate setback last year, so her health is a significant factor in finding the right placement. She is also unusually gifted, as you might have been able to tell. Her intellect can make her interactions with some adults…unnerving. For that reason, she requires a very stimulating education that, coincidentally, one of the schools here in Fair Haven, is able to provide. She even received an anonymous scholarship to cover the costs for the duration of her entire schooling, so you can see why keeping her here would be a priority.”
Vadim says nothing, his gaze distant. Perhaps he’s ruminating over those few key words. Intelligent. Challenging. Unnerving. Or, like me, he’s marveling at the fact that the description of that child could have easily fit him.
“Excuse me,” I blurt, unable to hold back any longer. “Where is her mother? Her birth mother?”
“Her m-mother?” Ms. Anderson blinks and glances at Vadim. “Magdalene was discovered abandoned at the age of five, left right on the steps of an orphanage.” She shakes her head sadly. “We, unfortunately, have no real information on her birth parents. Adoption would be the aim of this placement, as we have already discussed with Mr. Gorgoshev.”
“Of course,” Vadim grates, his gaze averted from me. The wall is back up, and I seethe at that, perhaps irrationally. Maybe it’s selfish to want something more from him now—some shred of emotion to cling to. Regret? Smugness? Something.
“Excuse me.” I turn to the door, moving quickly. “I… I have a horrible headache.”
Only now does a familiar voice call out, “Tiffany...”
I falter despite myself. He has the nerve to sound hoarse. Tortured. I hear his chair move, but I shake my head. “Don’t,” I say firmly as I start for the stairs. “Do not follow me.”
I make my escape into the bedroom, and I don’t stop until I’m barreling into the closet, snatching items from hangers at random. The fact that I own nothing here really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme. I selfishly take handfuls of clothing—both his and mine—and shove whatever I can into one of his briefcases. When the case is stuffed to the brim, I take it and march down the stairs. As I descend the final steps, I catch him ushering Ms. Anderson from the door. The second she’s gone, he closes it, his back to me.
“Tiffany…”
“What?” I throw the briefcase at him, and it lands harmlessly at his feet. He doesn’t even flinch. “Get out of my
