The Oligarchs’ Son Deliberately Invited a Poor Girl to Dinner to Annoy His Mother. The Moment She Walked In, the Guests Froze — They Had Never Expected Anything Like This.
Kirill was in a terrible hurry that day. It was already eight in the evening, and he still hadn’t managed to choose a present, buy flowers, or even change his clothes. It was his mother, Svetlana Eduardovna Krasilnikova’s birthday, and a large number of guests had gathered for the occasion. The celebration was taking place at the millionaire family’s country estate. Only relatives had been invited to dinner; important guests, business partners, and journalists would gather on Saturday.
These “family get-togethers” had been getting on Kirill’s nerves for years. His mother’s friends would inevitably begin asking tactless questions: when was he going to get married, and when would he give the Krasilnikov empire an heir?
What annoyed him most, however, was the way countless aunts, family friends, and self-appointed matchmakers constantly tried to introduce him to their nieces and acquaintances, praising yet another “perfect bride.”
They used to bother his younger sister, twenty-year-old Kamilla, but ever since she had started dating the son of the publisher Yeremov, they had left her alone and merely admired her choice. Now all their attention had shifted to Kirill.
He usually tried to avoid these intrusive women, but today there was no escaping them. Missing his mother’s birthday would mean enduring her resentment for a very long time.
Lost in thought, Kirill pulled up in front of a flower shop. The small store near the central market was not the kind of place he normally visited. They probably didn’t receive freshly delivered Kenyan roses or Dutch tulips covered in morning dew every day, but he had no choice. He urgently needed flowers.
When he entered, he discovered that the shop was empty. Looking around, Kirill noticed that the flowers were actually quite decent. All he had to do was wait for the salesperson.
But no one came.
“Good evening! Is anyone here?” he shouted toward the back room.
“Salesperson! Hey, is anyone behind the counter? Am I supposed to wait forever?”
His voice came out louder than he intended, and Kirill even flushed with irritation. Normally, he never allowed himself to speak in that tone.
In the boutiques and luxury stores he usually visited, several consultants would immediately rush over to serve him.
Apparently, today simply wasn’t his day.
At that very moment, a young woman wearing a dark blue work coat emerged from the back room.
“Why are you yelling like you’re at a marketplace? Couldn’t you wait?” she asked sharply.
“Why should I have to wait? Your job is to attract customers, sell products, and provide service so people will want to come back,” Kirill protested. “The flower market is overcrowded, competition is enormous, and I can simply drive to another store.”
“Then go,” the girl said with a shrug. “Why are you yelling about it? Fine, if you don’t need anything, I’m leaving.”
She turned around as if to walk away.
“Wait! All right, I’m in a terrible hurry and don’t have time to drive around the city. What do you have for a middle-aged woman? A beautiful, glamorous, wealthy woman? It’s my mother’s birthday.”
“Well, if it’s for your mother, how old is she? That matters when choosing flowers,” the girl said matter-of-factly.
“I don’t know,” Kirill admitted, confused.
“Well, there you go,” she grimaced.
“No, you don’t understand. My mother hides her age. I think she doesn’t even remember how old she is anymore.”
“Oh, I can believe that,” the girl suddenly laughed sincerely. “Grandma Matryona couldn’t remember her age either, and it used to make us laugh when we were children. We told her she was sixteen, even though she was nearly seventy.”
Kirill remained serious.
“What does your grandmother have to do with this? My mother looks wonderful. She simply doesn’t want to grow old. Just give me some flowers.”
“Would roses work?” the girl asked, pouting slightly.
“Yes, roses,” he sighed. “Arrange a bouquet and I’ll go. I’m already late.”
“I don’t know how to arrange bouquets,” she said with a shrug. “I’m the cleaner. Antonina, the florist, has been stuck in the bathroom for two days because of stomach trouble. I’m just watching the shop for her.”
Kirill stared at her silently, unable to find words.
He was stunned.
Nothing more absurd had ever happened to him in his life.
“All right. Arrange them however you can. At least tie the flowers together and put a ribbon around them. Can you manage that?”
He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“I can,” the girl said brightly and quickly began gathering the roses.
Kirill watched her.
She had beautiful hair, perfectly balanced features, flawless skin, and expressive eyes. Her fingers were long and her wrists delicate, almost like those of a pianist.
“She’s beautiful,” he suddenly thought. “Maybe I should invite her tonight and ask her to pretend to be my fiancée? With her looks, she could easily pass for an aristocrat. Her posture, her hair, her natural beauty… Even that simple dress of hers could be passed off as haute couture. I wonder if all our fashion-obsessed ladies would believe she comes from a wealthy family. Of course they would.”
“What’s your name?” he asked unexpectedly.
“Liza. Liza Snezhina.”
“Beautiful first name and surname.”
“Oh, they gave me the surname at the orphanage. I was found in the snow, so they called me Snezhina,” she laughed.
“How… in the snow?” he asked, stunned.
“Well, not literally in a snowdrift,” Liza clarified. “I was left on a sled outside the orphanage. It was a snowy winter, so that’s where the surname came from.”
She stopped talking when she noticed his shocked expression.
“Oh, come on. Why do you care? Haven’t you heard that people sometimes abandon children?”
“I have,” he muttered awkwardly.
“Here, take your bouquet.”
Liza handed him a surprisingly decent arrangement.
“Listen, Liza, would you like to earn, in one evening, the equivalent of several of your monthly salaries?” Kirill asked with a smile.
“What?! You… You maniac! I’m calling the police!”
She grabbed a bucket.
“No, wait! I don’t mean anything like that. I’m offering you money for a small favor. Tonight, I need you to pretend to be my wife. Just for a couple of hours at my parents’ house, and afterward I’ll drive you home.”
“Why do you need that?” Liza asked, lowering the bucket.
“The relatives will be at dinner, and my aunts will start interrogating me again about why I’m still unmarried. I want to play a prank on them. I’ll introduce you as my wife, and they’ll finally leave me alone.”
“After a while, I’ll admit that it was a joke. But maybe it’ll teach them not to interfere in other people’s business.”
“But seriously, why aren’t you married yet?” Liza asked curiously.
“Oh, so you’re joining them too?” Kirill laughed. “Probably because I haven’t met true love yet. Isn’t that obvious?”
“Hmm. I thought love wasn’t the most important thing for rich people. Business, merging fortunes, things like that seem more important.”
“For me, love comes first. Believe me,” he said with a smile.
“All right, I’ll help you,” the girl suddenly agreed with surprising ease. “I’ll just wait for the florist and change my clothes.”
“Liza, I’m already late, and my mother is probably worried. Are you dressed appropriately right now? Do you have anything to change into besides that coat?”
“I’m always dressed appropriately,” she said, offended.
“Don’t be angry, Elizaveta Snezhina. I’m sure you always look wonderful. I just wanted to clarify. Here’s the money and the address. Give me your phone number. I’ll call you now so you’ll have mine.”
“Finish what you’re doing, call a taxi, and I’ll meet you at the house. Agreed? Oh, and one more thing. At the table, we’ll speak informally to each other, and try to look at me as though you’re in love.”
“I’ll try. Don’t worry. I was the star of the drama club at the orphanage,” Liza said.
“Seriously? Then I’m relieved,” Kirill laughed.
Kirill drove the entire way with a smile on his face, remembering his conversation with the cleaner. He couldn’t understand why thoughts of her made him feel so cheerful. There was something bright about her, something that made him want to sing.
He turned on the radio and sang along:
“You’re the only one, you’re like no other, I know you… There’s no one else like you in the whole world…”
He barely made it to dinner on time.
Everyone praised the bouquet. Aunt Rita even remarked that an Italian billionaire had once given her exactly the same kind in Palermo. The guests nodded admiringly and called the arrangement “refined luxury,” while Kirill struggled not to laugh.
Then the conversation naturally shifted to Kamilla’s wedding and, of course, to the “unfortunate” bachelor Kirill.
“Kirill, when will we finally see the heir to the Krasilnikov empire?” Aunt Zina sighed. “While we’re still young enough, we’d like to cuddle the little prince.”
“Here we go,” Kirill thought, though he merely smiled.
“Modern young people are difficult to understand,” Aunt Rita added. “You can hardly find a decent girl these days.”
“Leave the boy alone!”
Seventy-nine-year-old Grandpa Boris Petrovich, a retired general, slammed his fist on the table.
“I’m sick of your matchmaking! Soon enough, someone will have to babysit all of you, you old bags!”
“You’ll be first in line, Boris Petrovich,” Aunt Rita shot back.
“Dad, enough with the barracks humor!” Svetlana Eduardovna snapped. “You have absolutely no tact!”
“And interrogating the boy is tactful?” Grandpa growled. “You, Ritka, you, Zinka, and you too, Svetlana — you may have left the village of Kukushkino, but the village never left you. My adjutant Shura Alyabyev used to say, ‘You can take a girl out of the village, but you can never take the village out of the girl.’”
Kirill and his father hurried to intervene.
“Dad, let’s not ruin the celebration. Today is Svetlana’s anniversary.”
“I’m all for that!” Grandpa spread his hands. “Talk about the birthday girl instead of my grandson’s marriage. He’ll handle his own life. By the way, how old are you now, Svetochka?”
“Forty-five,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
“For the fourth year in a row?” the general laughed.
“Vitaly, control your father,” Svetlana whispered angrily.
“But still, when are we finally going to meet Kirill’s bride?” Aunt Rita asked loudly.
Grandpa frowned, but Kirill answered before he could say anything.
“Not my bride. But you can meet my wife.”
Silence fell over the table.
Even Kamilla looked up from her phone.
“No way! Kiryuha, did you get married?!” she gasped.
At that exact moment, the doorbell rang.
“Yes, dear family, I’m married. And that’s my wife. She’s here.”
He stood up and left the table.
“Well, let’s see what kind of ‘frog in a box’ he’s brought us,” Grandpa chuckled. “I’m sure my grandson chose the best girl.”
The women exchanged glances, while Svetlana rolled her eyes.
At the gate, Kirill saw the taxi and froze.
“Liza, what is that war paint? And what are those ‘Indian beads’? You looked normal two hours ago!”
“This is expensive costume jewelry! And the florist did my makeup.”
“Why are you limping? My God, I can’t introduce you to my family looking like this!”
“The shoes are too big, that’s why.”
Liza’s face fell.
She had been counting on earning the money. Tomorrow was her day off, and she had wanted to take Sonechka to the zoo and buy her some presents.
“I have my own pumps in my backpack. I can change.”
“Quickly! And take off those beads. We’ll go through the conservatory. Wash your face there. You look much better without all that makeup.”
Ten minutes later, they entered the living room.
Everyone stared.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m with you,” Kirill whispered as he led her toward the table.
He seated Liza beside him and secretly slipped a ring with an enormous diamond onto her finger.
Where exactly the ring had come from remained a mystery.
“Idiot. He could at least have asked my ring size,” Liza thought irritably as she tried not to let the loose ring fall off. “Now I have to keep an eye on this boulder too.”
“This is Liza. My wife.”
Everyone’s mouths fell open.
No one had expected such a turn of events.
“Hello, sweetheart. What a beauty you are!” Grandpa exclaimed happily and walked over to hug her.
Liza stood awkwardly, and the retired general immediately kissed her three times.
“I’m your husband’s grandfather, Boris Petrovich Krasilnikov. You can just call me Grandpa.”
“Liza, where did you meet my son?” Svetlana Eduardovna asked.
“In a shop,” the girl answered simply.
Kirill immediately nudged her discreetly with his elbow to stop her from revealing too much.
“Really? What kind of shop? I didn’t know my nephew went shopping,” Aunt Rita laughed.
Liza became completely confused.
She didn’t know how people were supposed to behave in this society or what kind of answers were acceptable.
The “impostor” decided to talk about something she knew at least a little about.
“In an art supply store. I was buying canvases, and Kirill…”
“An art supply store?!” Aunt Zina’s eyes widened as she pursed her lips like a fish out of water. “Kiryuha, what were you doing there?”
“Um… I… went there with a friend. He was choosing a present for his daughter, so we stopped by.”
Kirill frantically invented the story as he spoke, but it didn’t sound convincing.
Liza decided to help him. After all, she was being paid for the role.
“I was walking past, got distracted looking at something, and we bumped into each other. My brushes fell everywhere, and we started gathering them. Suddenly our hands touched, and we looked into each other’s eyes. At that moment, it was as though a flame ignited inside my soul. Kirill felt the same thing. He immediately realized that he wouldn’t be able to live a single day without me.”
Kirill kept tugging Liza’s hand and kicking her under the table, trying to make her stop, but she was already carried away.
“He said, ‘Miss, if I knew how to paint, I would paint your portrait every day. But I can’t. Please, at least let me take a photograph with you.’
“And I replied, ‘Oh, no, no, I’m not a star. Why would I pose for you?’
“And he said, ‘You are a star. Just a very distant one, unknown to everyone, but the most beautiful star in the universe.’”
Everyone listened with their mouths open.
Only Grandpa smirked.
“Oh, how romantic!” Aunt Rita exclaimed, clasping her hands to her chest. “Liza, you know, one of my admirers once…”
“But Kirill isn’t ‘one of my admirers,’” the fake wife interrupted. “He’s my husband. My one and only love. The two of us don’t even notice anyone else around us.
“Please forgive him for not introducing me sooner. I wasn’t ready. All this time, I couldn’t believe that the best man in the world could love me.
“Now I paint him every night — when he comes home tired from work, and when he sleeps curled up like a little child.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Aunt Zina sighed. “Liza, are you an artist? Do you have your own gallery? Where do you exhibit?”
“That’s enough,” Kirill finally snapped.
“Mom, happy birthday again. Liza and I have to leave.”
He grabbed the girl by the elbow and pulled her toward the exit.
Kirill’s aunts and mother jumped up to see the “newlyweds” off.
“No, Kirill, this is impossible!” his mother protested. “What will people say? The heir to the Krasilnikov fortune got married, yet there was no wedding and no announcement in the press!”
“Liza, will you come to the celebration on Saturday? Kirill, remember, seven o’clock at the Russian House?” Aunt Zina called after them.
“Lizochka, who are your parents? We absolutely must meet them!” Aunt Rita shouted.
Finally, they got into the car.
Kirill accelerated sharply, then stopped near the first turn to catch his breath.
“What was that, Liza?!” he demanded furiously. “What store? What stars? I asked you to simply sit there, not put on an entire performance! What now? Am I supposed to drag you to Saturday’s reception too? There will be journalists there!”
“You don’t need to ‘drag’ me anywhere,” Liza said with a shrug. “You said you were going to admit the truth afterward. So tell them it was a joke.
“Sorry, I just got carried away. I thought money wasn’t handed out for nothing. I had to earn it.”
“Oh, right.”
He reached into his inside pocket and took out a bundle of banknotes.
“Here. You earned it.”
“That’s too much. I won’t take it.”
Liza’s eyes widened.
“Only idiots refuse money,” he snapped. “Are you an idiot?”
“No, I’m not. And I really need the money.”
She took the bills and slipped them into her bag.
“Goodbye, Kirill. Or perhaps farewell.”
She pulled the door handle, but the door didn’t open.
“Stay where you are. I’ll drive you home,” he muttered, and the car shot forward.
When they stopped in front of a shabby five-story apartment building on the outskirts, Kirill, demonstrating his good manners, got out to open the door for her.
Liza stepped out, leaning on his hand, but suddenly slipped and grabbed his shirt.
He had apparently parked beside a puddle.
A second later, Kirill was lying in the mud with Liza on top of him.
“Are you insane?!” he shouted.
“You’re the one who parked in a puddle!” she snapped back.
“It’s dark here! You can’t see anything!”
They got up.
His entire suit was filthy.
“Come upstairs with me,” Liza said. “My landlady won’t be happy, but I suppose we can make an exception once. After all, you’re not just some man. You’re my ‘husband for one evening.’”
Kirill was in no mood to laugh.
After everything she had put him through that evening, he felt ready to strangle her.
But he followed her upstairs.
They were met in the apartment by a stern pensioner named Anna Stepanovna.
“Lizka, why are you home so late? Who’s that? Have you started bringing men home now?”
“Grandma Anya, this is my ‘husband.’ Well, not really my husband. We just told his parents that we were married…”
The landlady stared at her in disbelief.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Anna Stepanovna, can he wash himself and then leave?”
The old woman waved her hand.
“Let him use the bathroom. I’ll bring him some clothes that belonged to the late Ivan Sergeyevich.”
“No!” Kirill said, alarmed. “I’ll clean myself up and leave.”
An hour later, his clothes were drying on the balcony while he and Liza drank tea in her room.
Kirill looked around at the canvases, easels, and paints.
“You really are an artist?” he asked. “Can I see your work?”
“Go ahead.”
“I don’t know much about art, but I like it. Will you sell me one?”
“You already paid me plenty. You don’t need to.”
“But I really like this one.”
He pointed toward a canvas.
“It would be perfect for my office.”
“Take it,” Liza replied indifferently.
Kirill reached for his wallet, then remembered that he was wearing someone else’s clothes.
“I don’t need money,” the girl said, shaking her head.
“Liza, may I ask you something? Why do you work as a cleaner if you’re an artist? And a very talented one, at least in my opinion.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled faintly.
“But who needs my paintings? Yes, I sell some at the market near the fountain and occasionally take commissions, but sometimes there’s work and sometimes there isn’t. It’s not enough to live on.
“Art supplies are expensive, and I don’t have much free time. At least the shop gives me a small but stable salary. The owner is kind too. She gives us bonuses.”
She fell silent before hesitantly adding:
“There’s something else. I visit a little girl at the orphanage. Sonechka. She’s six years old. She’s very lonely.”
“Is she your relative?” Kirill asked quietly.
“No. Just… a friend. I teach her to draw. I want to adopt her, but I can’t yet.”
“Why? If money is the problem, I’ll help you.”
“It isn’t money. I don’t have my own home or suitable conditions for a child. I’m unmarried… though that isn’t the main issue nowadays. But I’m working on it. For now, all I can do is visit her.”
Kirill looked at her intently.
“You’re a complete orphan? You don’t have any relatives at all?”
Liza silently nodded.
“But shouldn’t the government have provided you with an apartment?”
“They did.”
She gave a bitter smile.
“I sold it to help someone pay off his debts. And then he… disappeared.
“That’s how my life goes. Everyone abandons me, starting with my mother.”
Her laugh sounded unnatural.
Kirill silently stared at the girl, feeling a strange mixture of anger and pity.
Liza stood up and walked toward the balcony.
“Your clothes are dry. Go before the neighbors wake up. I don’t want gossip about late-night visits from men driving expensive cars.”
“Yes, of course.”
Kirill got dressed, picked up the wrapped painting, and left.
At the door, they silently shook hands.
After getting into his car, he sat behind the wheel for a long time, staring at her window.
Liza eventually appeared at the window and angrily waved at him to leave.
Back home, Kirill slept until evening.
He woke up to repeated calls from his sister.
“Kamilla, what happened?”
“Where have you been?! Give me Liza’s number. I urgently need to talk to her!”
“Tell me what you need. I’ll pass it on.”
“Are you kidding me? Why should I have to communicate with your wife through you? Where is she right now?”
“With me! In the shower!” he lied awkwardly. “She’ll call you back later.”
After hanging up, Kirill rushed to the shop where Liza worked.
He bought every flower in the store and persuaded the owner to let Liza leave early.
“Have you lost your mind? What am I supposed to do with this many flowers?” Liza demanded in the parking lot.
“My sister wants your phone number.”
“Then admit that the whole thing was a prank!”
“I… want to torment them a little longer,” he muttered uncertainly.
“Deceiving people isn’t funny. You promised to tell them the truth.”
“I will! But first talk to Kamilla. She needs advice.”
“All right,” Liza sighed. “But in return, drive me to the orphanage. And have the flowers delivered there too, for the staff.”
At the orphanage, Liza was greeted like family.
An elderly cloakroom attendant, Matryona Ivanovna, narrowed her eyes at Kirill.
“Are you our Lizochka’s fiancé?”
“You could say that,” he smiled.
“Don’t mess with her head! I’ve known her since she was in diapers. I won’t let anyone hurt her.”
Suddenly Kirill realized that this was the same “Grandma Matryona” Liza had mentioned when they first met.
“I won’t hurt her. But… could you tell me about her?”
“Why not?”
The cloakroom attendant made herself comfortable.
“Listen…”
During the winter shortly before New Year’s Eve in 2004, a newborn baby girl had been discovered on the steps of the orphanage.
It was already pitch dark, even though the clock showed only six in the evening.
Matryona Ivanovna had been hurrying to work. That day, the institution was preparing a holiday performance and a New Year’s masquerade ball for the children, which meant they required special attention.
The gate leading into the yard had frozen shut, so the woman walked around to the main entrance.
That was where she noticed a sled.
And lying on it was a bundle.
When she ran closer, Matryona realized that it was a baby wrapped in a child’s blanket.
Panic seized her.
Was the baby still breathing?
Without wasting a second, she left the sled outside, picked up the child, and rushed into the building.
Fortunately, the baby was healthy and strong — an adorable little girl only a few days old.
There was no note and no documentation.
There was nothing to suggest that anyone intended to return for her.
The orphanage staff immediately called an ambulance.
While the doctors prepared to take the baby away, Matryona asked the director to give the girl a name.
The paramedic registered the child as Elizaveta Snezhina.
Six years later, fate brought Liza back to that very same woman when the girl was placed in the same orphanage where she had originally been found.
Liza’s life had never been easy.
With no biological parents, she lived with foster guardians until she was six.
But after her foster father died, her new mother remarried, and the woman’s new husband wanted nothing to do with someone else’s child.
And so Liza ended up in an institution again.
It was a devastating blow for the little girl.
She had considered herself a full member of the Yolkin family and barely remembered being in the orphanage before.
No one dared remind her that she had been abandoned as a newborn.
Grandma Matryona decided to wait until Liza was older.
At seven, the girl was once again placed into a family-style foster home.
However, four years later, all the children were removed from that house and the caregivers were arrested.
Liza once again returned to the orphanage.
After those events, she stopped speaking.
But she began to draw.
Remarkably, she painted as though she had studied at an art school all her life.
She was particularly gifted at painting faces and capturing every possible human emotion.
Only after Elizaveta turned eighteen did Matryona Ivanovna finally decide to tell her the truth about her origins.
Liza listened carefully before replying bitterly:
“I’ve been abandoned many times. What difference does one more make?”
“You’re wrong,” the woman objected. “When I found you, you were wrapped in very expensive sheets. Those weren’t ordinary rags. Your mother clearly came from a well-off family. Perhaps she had reasons for what she did.”
Liza only smirked.
“If she never looked for me, then she didn’t need me.”
Matryona wanted to add something else, but waited for a moment before continuing.
“The next day, when I was clearing the snow, I found a white silk handkerchief beside the sled. Embroidered on it in lilac thread were the words ‘Lev Kudritsky.’ I still have it.
“Maybe that was your father’s name. Or perhaps another relative?”
But Liza showed no interest.
She didn’t want to know anything about the people who had abandoned her.
Nevertheless, Grandma Matryona continued to keep the handkerchief, hoping that one day Liza might want to search for her past.
Some time later, the young man who had begun dating Liza suggested starting the search.
“Let me see the handkerchief. I’ll take a picture of it and try to find information.”
Matryona promised to show it to him the next day.
Meanwhile, Liza spent time with friends.
They visited the zoo, went to the movies, enjoyed rides, and ate ice cream.
That evening, Kirill drove her home, and they had a touching conversation.
“Why don’t we start dating?” he asked.
“Billionaires don’t date cleaners,” Liza said with a smile.
“Then we’ll be the first. We’ll break the stereotype. What do you say?”
“All right. Let’s do it.”
“Well then, should we kiss?”
“Come tomorrow and we’ll see,” she said with a wink before getting out of the car.
Kirill drove away happy.
He replayed every minute he had spent with Liza.
For him, these feelings were an entirely new experience.
He had had relationships before, but Liza was different.
She was like a melody that seemed to play only for him.
The following morning, Kirill intended to visit Matryona Ivanovna.
He hadn’t made his promise to search for Liza’s relatives lightly.
The name “Lev Kudritsky,” embroidered on the handkerchief, had caught his attention.
He suddenly remembered that an artist with the same surname lived in the gated cottage community where his parents had their home.
He decided to investigate.
Lev Mikhailovich Kudritsky was a famous artist respected both in Russia and abroad.
He lived quietly with his wife, Ekaterina Nikolayevna, far away from society.
They had no children, although they had once dreamed of having a family.
Their neighbors rarely saw them.
The couple preferred solitude and surrounded themselves with animals rather than people.
They maintained both a private kennel and a small shelter for homeless animals.
Kirill didn’t know how to begin the conversation, so he decided to get straight to the point.
He would show Lev the photograph of the handkerchief and ask whether he recognized it.
Barely ten minutes after Kirill rang the gate bell, he was escorted inside.
The artist received him in his study.
After a brief greeting, Krasilnikov held out his phone, displaying the photograph of the handkerchief.
“I recognize this handkerchief,” Lev Mikhailovich admitted, struggling to conceal his emotion. “It was a gift from an old friend in Italy. Several of them were specially made for me, my wife, and our daughter. We only have two left now.
“Where did you find this one?”
Kirill asked for a little time and told him the entire story — the newborn child who had been found, the orphanage, Liza, and everything that had happened in her life.
The artist listened attentively.
As Kirill continued, more and more color drained from the man’s face.
Finally, he stood up, left the room, and returned with his wife and a portrait of a young woman.
“This is our daughter Eva,” he said painfully. “She died three years ago. We lost her after she left for Turkey.”
Eva had been a difficult child.
Although she had grown up in a family that could provide her with everything materially, she had always searched for something more.
Constant thrill-seeking, drugs, running away from home, relationships with bikers — all of it became part of her life.
At seventeen, Eva became pregnant and disappeared.
When she eventually returned, she claimed that the baby had died.
Later, she vanished again.
Several years afterward, her parents were informed that she had died in a hotel by the sea.
After Kirill told the couple Liza’s year of birth, they had no doubt left.
Liza was their granddaughter.
“I’ll bring her to you,” the young man promised. “But first, I need to prepare Liza for this meeting.”
The conversation with Liza was difficult.
She cried for a long time, unable to understand why her mother had abandoned her when there had been a family capable of loving and raising her.
But Kirill convinced her that the past could not be changed.
The present, however, could become the beginning of a new happiness.
“They’re good people,” he reassured her. “Your grandmother runs an animal shelter, and your grandfather is a famous artist. Maybe your artistic talent came from him.”
“Maybe,” Liza agreed. “But let them do a DNA test, just in case they don’t believe it.”
“We’ll do one. Don’t worry. But I’m sure they have no doubts. You look very much like your mother and your grandfather.”
The next day, Liza, Kirill, and the delighted Kudritskys gathered around the same table.
For the elderly couple, it was a day they had long since stopped hoping would ever come.
They couldn’t stop hugging their granddaughter and were ready to do anything to make up for all the years they had lost.
Liza introduced Kirill as her future husband and told them that she wanted to become Sonechka’s guardian.
Her newly found grandparents wholeheartedly supported the plan.
“The guardianship authorities need to approve the house?” Grandpa asked.
“Of course,” Liza replied.
“Then we’ll prepare the documents and make a children’s room. As many rooms as necessary!”
“Why would they need so many?” Grandma asked in surprise.
“Well, the young couple will have children of their own too,” Grandpa laughed, winking at the lovers.
Kirill and Liza’s wedding became an event the entire city talked about.
Krasilnikov’s parents were delighted with their daughter-in-law.
Every friend of the family repeatedly heard the groom’s mother proudly say:
“Our Lizochka comes from an excellent family. Intellectuals, aristocrats — nothing like those people who are born without roots.”
And so the story of the lonely little girl who had been found shortly before New Year’s finally reached a happy ending.
Fate had brought her together with the people who had always wanted her close — her real family, who had unknowingly been waiting for her for many years.