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.

“Fifteen million,” I whispered.

“Peter, that’s a fortune.”

We looked at each other and at the laughing boy, watching the wolf chase the hare.

Nikolai, Peter’s old friend, found a way out. He came over a week later, and we drank tea and chatted.

“You can register him as an abandoned child,” he said, scratching his bald head. “Just like he was found on the doorstep. A friend of mine works in social services and will help you with the paperwork.