The realisation just hit me that it was an hours' walk to the docks. I had only ten rubles with me, which I had found below the coffee table in Detective Barnes' office. I looked around me; it must have been in the late morning already, as the streets were pretty empty with everyone off to work and school.

I wondered when I would get the chance to have a normal life again, going back to school. My life had turned upside down ever since Nikita passed away. After the previous night's incident, I didn't think I would be having a normal life anytime soon.

I felt my stomach grumble and thought that I should head back to Zari's and my one-room apartment to stock up on food first before heading on the hour-long journey.

Shit!

I then realised that our apartment and the docks were in opposite directions. It would take me about twenty minutes to walk back to the apartment, and I didn't have time to do that, as getting to that diner was my top priority.

I had been to the docks with Zari once a few months back, and somehow I still remembered the route to go there. I turned left and kept walking straight ahead for about fifteen minutes or so, I felt like I was going to faint any moment under the freezing weather due to lack of nutrients in my body. Just when I looked back up onto the road―my eyes were barely open from the blazing hot sun and the wind blew my auburn hair onto my face―I bumped into a man and he dropped his coffee cup onto the ground.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I said frantically, not wanting to get into a quarrel with anyone, especially in the state that I was in.

"That's quite alright, miss," he said calmly and picked up the coffee cup from the ground.

That was when I realised there was no coffee spilt on the ground. Because the cup was empty, thank god. Still, that accent. It was not a Russian accent. He then walked a few steps towards the rubbish bin and threw the cup inside.

He turned to face me again and gave me a small smile. "Don't worry, no coffee was spilt. I was just going to dump it inside the bin when you bumped into me."

I must have been staring at him for way too long and he surprisingly understood what I was thinking.

"I'm British. And you're not the first person to stare at me like that," he said with a chuckle.

"Oh sorry, it's just that no tourists really come to this part of Moscow, it feels so dead here," I said, still stunned as that was the first time I was talking to someone who wasn't Russian.

His accent is very fascinating.

"I quite like it here actually, it's quiet. Unlike London, full of people and noises. Pardon me for asking, but are you feeling well, miss? You look a little pale."

Great. This is embarrassing. Should I ask him for help? I mean he seems nice and is obviously rich judging from the material of his coat and the brand of his watch. I bet it costs more than ten thousand.

"Um... I'm meeting a friend by the docks in the city, but someone stole my bicycle and I have no money with me so I'm walking there. Plus, the cold weather today is not in my favour." I let out a forced laugh.

"The driver I hired should be here any second, I can give you a free ride to the docks if you like," he offered.

Should I be getting into a car with a stranger? For all I know, he could be another assassin trying to kill me. But if I don't get into that car, I might as well be dead, I couldn't have walked for another forty-five minutes.

My bones felt like they were shrinking by the second, my vision was blurred, my muscles were sprawled out. I felt like puking even though there was nothing in my system. With the last few ounces of strength I have, I managed to smile and say, "Sure, thank you so much, sir."

He smiled back at me and replied, "Not a problem, miss."

Within the next few seconds, a black car pulled up on the side of the road and he gestured to me to get in the car. As soon as I stepped into the car, the warm air from the heater touched my skin, and I instantly felt much better.

As the car started moving, I said, "Thank you so much for the ride again."

"I'm just glad to be helpful."

I wanted to engage in a conversation with him, still curious about meeting someone from another country. I had always wanted to travel around the world.

He looked at me for a few seconds and spoke again, "Sorry for being nosy, but you don't exactly look Russian. More of a mix, I would say."

The tone in which it was spoken in really sounded like that of someone who was genuinely curious. Maybe not all rich men are arrogant.

I've always wondered which one of my parents is not Russian. I would actually get to know the answer really soon. "Well, maybe, I'm not sure. Can't remember my parents either, they passed away when I was a few months old."

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry for your loss..." he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"It's not your fault, though living in the system sucked." I pushed down the memories that I didn't want to relive deep down.

He did not speak for a few seconds and looked at me with pure sympathy in his eyes, "I can only imagine. I'm a lawyer and I have seen cases where the parent lost his child as he could not provide a safe home environment deemed by the government."

He looked away, cleared his throat and said, "I know we just met, and you probably won't say yes, but I can offer you a place to stay and sort through your situation together, miss. Free of charge."

I blinked. Was he serious?

Funny, how I had wanted a normal life since Nikita passed and there I was, presented with an opportunity to do so. I didn't feel like saying yes. I couldn't just pretend that last night didn't happen and Viktor said he knows about my biological parents―something I had been wondering about my whole life. Even though they were dead, I at least had the right to know what happened to them and find out why, all of a sudden, people were trying to kill me.

"I would love to take up your offer sir, but I'm going to decline it. I have something to take care of first which might take a while."

He simply nodded with understanding in his eyes and took out his wallet from his pocket. I just stared at him, my mind frozen and unaware of how much he pulled out of his wallet. I was completely in awe that anyone would do something this grand for a stranger.

He firmly put the cash in my hand and said, "I wish you all the best and hope you take care of whatever you need to. If you need me anytime, I'm just a phone call away." As he pressed what I assumed was a piece of paper with his phone number written on it.

As soon as I stepped out of his car, there was a part of me which called myself stupid for not accepting his help and going to get the life that I had wanted the past four years.

I wouldn't be able to live with the guilt and curiosity inside for long if I did it anyways. I made peace with my decision as I saw Adequate Dining less than a hundred metres away from me. When I entered the restaurant, it was pretty empty. I guessed it was not lunchtime yet.

The diner had the nineties vibe to it, with neon blue LED tube lights that traced the entire ceiling and light bulbs bolted on the wall, each one of them a few metres apart. The chairs were a shade of light pink and the tables were made from light wood. The smell of milk and eggs filled my nose and my stomach grumbled in response. I made my way to the cashier while observing my surroundings, overanalyzing everyone who was currently in the diner.

Just to make sure there were no assassins. Kidding.

Not really.

"How can I help you?" a young lady, who was wearing a dark blue polo t-shirt and light pink apron, asked me.

Marlene. Viktor's voice rang in my head.

I looked at her name tag. It read "Anastasia", so I asked, "Hi, may I talk to Marlene?"

"Okay, give me a minute. Wait here," she said and walked into the kitchen.

A minute later, an older lady, around her mid-sixties, walked out from the kitchen and stood in front of me behind the cashier. She smiled at me with her very straight teeth, given her age. "Anastasia said you were looking for me, how can I help you?"

"Code 242," I said quietly and gave a side glance to both sides to ensure no one was listening.

The expression on her face quickly changed to a serious one. "Follow me," she whispered and I followed her to a 'storage' door.

She took out a key from her pocket and unlocked the door.

Behind the door was a room. There was a bed, nightstand and cabinet, but most importantly, Viktor was sitting on the bed with his arms crossed and he said in a flat tone, "Took you long enough."