On the street, a woman gave me a child and a suitcase full of money, and sixteen years later I learned that he was the heir of a billionaire.

The boy pressed himself against my leg. He looked up at me with his huge brown eyes, his tousled blond curls, and a scratch on his cheek.

“You can’t be serious!” I tried to move away, but the woman was already pushing us toward the car.

“You can’t just do this! The police, child services…”

“There’s no time to explain!” Her voice trembled with desperation. “I have no choice, do you understand?” None!

A group of dacha residents caught us and shoved us into the crowded car. I looked back: the woman was still on the platform, her hands pressed against her face. Tears were streaming down her fingers.

“Mom!” Misha made a move toward the door, but I stopped him.

The train started moving. The woman grew smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the twilight.
Somehow, we sat down on a bench. The child curled up next to me and sniffed at my sleeve. The suitcase was pushed down my arm; it was heavy. What was in there, bricks?

“Auntie, will Mom come?”