"Do you know how long it takes to get here from the police station?" I sighed.

I was hungry, tired and lowkey scared of finding out the truth of what had actually happened.

"I apologise. Didn't have time to consider the convenience of your travels when you were about to get caught for murder. Anyways, come sit here and have a sandwich." He patted a spot on the bed.

I sat on the bed and took a bite of the sandwich he handed over to me. Wow! Ham, cheese, lettuce and cucumber melted into my mouth at once and it tasted like heaven.

"So, you're going to tell me about my parents?" I asked as I chewed on the sandwich.

Viktor stared at me for a few seconds and looked like he was going to say something but decided on saying another thing instead, "Yes, but it's more of the plane crash than about them. I never met them."

I nodded as I took another bite, at least I had food to comfort me if the truth was unbearable.

Viktor started talking, "Both your parents died in a plane crash explosion, as I told you last night."

He paused again to make sure I was still 'emotionally stable' to hear the rest of the story and continued, "It exploded when it was travelling back to Russia from Thailand. There were seven people on the plane―the pilot, co-pilot, two air stewardesses, your mother, your father and you. It was on 20 April 2002."

Wait a second. But he said he never met them. Then how did he know so much information about the day my parents died? Why was he so invested in my parents' death if he didn't know them personally?

"How do you know all this?" I questioned.

Viktor took in a deep breath before saying, "My brother was the pilot."

My mouth agape with astonishment.

Now that made sense. That was why finding out about what had happened was so important to him. It was to have the closure of his brother's death. And me being alive hopefully was one step closer to figuring out what had happened.

Viktor didn't talk for a few seconds to let me process the information.

"I've gone through every scenario in my mind, but it just doesn't fit. Your parents were wealthy and might have made some enemies along the way, so they must have checked thoroughly to make sure the plane was in working condition before boarding it."

Rich? To the extent of having a private jet? Kind of irony now that their daughter has lived in the streets for the past four years.

"Over the last seventeen years, I've checked on every possible enemy that your parents had. None of them checked out, a dead end. But you being alive changes everything. It completely crosses out every theory I've ever come up with."

I frowned. "What do you mean by enemies?"

"Oh, right, forgot to mention they own the Gloria hotel. It's established in four countries- three in Russia, one in Canada, two in Thailand and one in Spain. So naturally, they'll have a lot of competitors." He explained.

I nodded in understanding. "Oh...I see, who runs the hotel now?"

"By your birthright, it should be you. But since you were presumed dead for the past seventeen years, your parents' close friend, Anton now runs it. Unfortunately, it has not been doing well. Three of the hotels have closed down since the crash," Viktor explained.

It's crazy to think that just last night, I was worried that Zari and I might not make it through winter with only seventy-four Russian rubles to survive for the next week when I technically own four hotels.

But then, Zari is not with me anymore...

I quickly snapped out of my thoughts. I didn't want Viktor seeing me break down in front of him.

"Do... do you think... think my parents could still be alive?" I softly asked.

"Before I met you, I would have thought that it was impossible. I have seen the remains of the plane that crashed when it was dug up from the ocean. But now, you are sitting in front of me, in the flesh, so yes it's a possibility." He didn't look at me in the eye when he said that, probably thinking about his brother.

How the heck did I survive? Would hotel competitors go that far just to eliminate their competition? Since I'm alive, that has to mean that someone carried me to safety. The question is who.

I think Viktor saw that I was going to spiral out of control at any second. "Okay, I think that's enough bombshells anyone can handle for one day. That'll be your room until we figure out a better arrangement. Now, I'd better get back to running a restaurant." Viktor gave me a small smile and I spoke before he could close the door behind him.

I looked up from the floor and into his bright blue eyes. "What are... or were my parents' names?"

"Roman Mikhail Vasiliev and Minh Boonsri Anantasu," he answered that without hesitation. He must have gone through the case file hundreds of times before. The pilot was his brother after all.

My mum didn't have a Russian name... she was not from Russia. Wait, then-

"Your mother was from Thailand," Viktor said, answering my thoughts. "And your full name is Alveanea Minh Vasiliev."

With that, he closed the door and I was left alone. I looked around, saw that there was a bathroom in the room and decided to take a shower. As I removed my pants, I took out the money and piece of paper that the British guy gave me.

Fifty, hundred, hundred fifty, two hundred, two hundred fifty, three hundred. Three hundred rubles. That would have lasted me two weeks with Zari.

Zari. It's crazy how every little thing reminds me of her now.

I shook off the thoughts in my head and opened the piece of paper that he gave me. It read- Holland, Fletcher & Thompson, Breton Fletcher.

So he's a lawyer.

At the very bottom, his contact number was written. I carefully put the money and paper together with my clothes and stepped into the shower.

After applying shampoo and soap, I just stood still in the shower while waiting for it to wash off, feeling the hot water grazing my skin. I looked up to the ceiling and suddenly, everything became a blur.

As Viktor disappeared into the darkness, I turned to Zari who was still lying on the floor, motionless. I collapsed onto my knees, and tears came rolling from my eyes uncontrollably. This was all my fault. My fault. Everyone around me dies. First Nikita, now Zari.

I didn't believe in fate or faith because I didn't think it was even remotely possible for someone to have an unlucky life as I had lived. Not having any knowledge of who my parents were, spending the first ten years of my life in the shitty orphanage and when I finally got adopted, my foster mum died. That led me to live in the streets as I'd rather die than go back to the orphanage, where everyone was being treated as slaves and were sent to clean different rich people's houses every day. Back to the present, where Zari has died. She was the only reason I even managed to survive to live in the streets.

Then I heard the police sirens.

They're coming. You can do this. Stay strong.

I stood up and walked towards Zari.

This was a robbery gone wrong. A robbery went wrong.

I kneeled beside Zari, touched her face and whispered, "I'm sorry, you deserved better." I looked for the gunshot wound, placed my palm on it and smeared her blood all over my fingers.

Shock. I'm in shock.

I heard the police car stop right along the road and the car door closing behind me.

Hands. Tremble. Now.

The sound of the car door opened and closed.

As my hands started shaking, footsteps approached me.

It took the policemen a few seconds to realise there was a body in front of me so they said, "Freeze! Put your hands in the air! Now, turn around!"

I put my hand in the air and slowly turned around. Hands trembling, tears streaming down my face, knees shaking.

One of the officers still had his gun pointed at me while the other went behind me to check if it was truly a dead body.

"She's dead," the officer said dryly.

"You, turn around," the officer said to me.

All of a sudden, I felt like my nose was filled up with cold water. I blinked.

The water from the shower had turned cold, which means I had wandered off for quite a while. I turned off the tap and dried myself with a towel, putting on a pale green sweater and black sweatpants that were placed on the nightstand which was exactly my size.

My heart warmed a little at the gesture.

About twenty minutes later, someone knocked on the door gently and I said, "Come in".

Marlene opened the door with a tray of food, which included a huge slice of pizza, a small cob of corn, an apple and a cup of water, and carefully placed it on the nightstand. The aroma of the food filled the room and I could feel myself starting to drool.

"From the way you devoured your sandwich when you came here, I figured you wouldn't mind having more food," Marlene said, giving me a small smile.

"I could never say no to food."

My face started heating up thinking that Viktor told her I ate the food like an animal.

"How do you and Viktor know each other? If you don't mind me asking. You guys don't look related," I asked before she could leave.

Even though most of her hair was white, I could still see that Marlene's hair was previously blonde and she had green eyes while Viktor had dark brown hair and the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen.

She slowly turned around and said, "I was a close friend of his grandmother. I adopted him after his parents died during the Minola earthquake sixteen years ago."

I remember that earthquake. It killed about five thousand people. I felt terribly sorry for Viktor, losing his brother and parents one year apart from the other. That made me trust him more; that his heart is in this as much as I do.

"You are the only hope that Viktor will ever have of finding peace," she said with much emotion and left the room.

After dinner, I saw a book in the drawer of the nightstand, as I was looking for a safe place to put the money and name card that Breton gave me. 'The Spectacular Now' was its title. I started reading it and an hour later, I was a hundred pages in, writing down those words that I did not understand on a piece of paper I found with a pen on the cabinet. Always intrigued to learn new words.

It was refreshing reading about what normal life was like and a good escape from the current reality that I could have been in jail for many years. It made me yearn for how much I wanted to go to school again, just like four years ago before Nikita passed away. I did not have the best experience in school, but it was sure as hell better than what I was going through now.

I must have fallen asleep as I was awoken by the sound of gunshots.