Alicja was a poor student from a small town. Her scholarship barely covered groats and tickets, and she paid for her dorm room by working nights as a hostel receptionist. Her dream was to graduate from medical school and become a heart surgeon, but life kept throwing obstacles in her way.
During her final year, she met Vladimir Arkadyevich – a seventy-year-old, well-groomed and energetic man. He was a patron, often supporting the university financially, and one day he invited Alicja to a charity dinner. She impressed him – not so much with her beauty, but with her intelligence, ambition, and sincerity.
After a month, he proposed. Friends and even the dean whispered that she had “sold out.” But Alicja saw him as protection, support, and a chance to escape poverty. She accepted.
The wedding was modest but elegant. Vladimir was a bit tense at the reception. That evening, in the bedroom, he suddenly approached Alice and said in a trembling voice:
“Alice… I have to tell you something. I understand if you leave this room right now… maybe even run away. But I don’t want to start with a lie.”
Alice stiffened.
“What do you want to tell me?” she asked cautiously.
He sat on the edge of the bed, sighed deeply and continued:
—The truth is… I’m not Vladimir Arkadyevich. Or at least not entirely.
She frowned.
– I’m listening?
He closed his eyes and for a moment he looked even younger:
“I’m a former agent of the Foreign Intelligence Service. Many years ago, I was given a very dangerous assignment—I had to infiltrate an international intelligence network. I was presumed dead. Since then, I’ve been living under a new identity. Only now, in retirement, have I decided to “come back.” But it’s not that simple. They’re still looking for me. And by marrying me, you automatically became both protected… and threatened.”
Alice sat silently, unblinking. Her heart was pounding.
— What do you want from me?
He looked at her with a slight sadness:
“Help me find my real daughter. She’s about your age now. I’ve lost touch with her. If you help me, I’ll write everything down for you. Not for money. Just because you’re the last person I dared to trust.”
Alice looked at him – not as an old man, but as an incredibly lonely, tired man who had been playing a role his whole life.
And she replied:
“We’ll find her. I promise.”
