Episode 60

The air in the Petrova residence, once thick with the scent of Anya’s favorite jasmine and the faint, metallic tang of stage makeup, now held a hollow quiet. The opulent rooms felt too large, too silent, echoing with the absence of their radiant star. Dmitri paced the length of the grand salon, his footsteps a restless drumbeat against the polished parquet floor. Nickola, a study in quiet intensity, sat by the tall, snow-dusted windows, his gaze fixed on the swirling flakes outside as if searching for answers in their descent.

It had been days since Anya had been found, safe but fragile, her spirit dimmed by the ordeal. The man behind her abduction, a financier named Volkov, had been apprehended, his web of corruption—a scheme to embezzle funds meant for the ballet’s upkeep, a scheme Anya had inadvertently uncovered—unraveling with his capture. The theater, a place of dreams and illusions, had been forced to confront a harsh reality.

“She’s sleeping,” Dmitri murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion and relief. He had just returned from checking on his sister, who was slowly recovering in her chambers, tended by a hushed, solicitous staff.