I nervously tap my finger on the leather upholstery of the steering wheel, being in the parking lot of the sports school, where material for our foundation will be filmed today, and I am watching Shipieva, that is, already Kovaleva. Alena is talking on the phone with someone, standing near her car.

From the head does not go yesterday's meeting in the park. After which I was shaking for a long time. Thoughts arose, one worse than the other, and hands clenched into fists of their own accord. Especially after studying all the papers that I requested from Belyaev. But what if the child is really Alena? Well, if we...