The orphan fed a destitute man, and they docked it from her wages. But then she learned that an enormous bank account had been opened in her name.
Anna’s very first memory was not of the warmth of a mother’s hands or the sweet scent of New Year tangerines. It was a pricking, ice-cold thing, stamped on the wrong side of her soul like a scar that would ache all her life. She was six. Into the neat, polished-to-sterility world of the orphanage—smelling … Read more