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.

“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?”