Chapter 9 No.9

Dimitri looked up from his brooding. "Did you find the father?"

"No, the birth certificate lists 'Unknown'. But we found a photo of Dr. Anti."

Dimitri sat up straighter. "Show me."

Lars placed a grainy photo on the desk. It was taken five years ago in a hospital in Switzerland. It showed a figure in surgical scrubs, back to the camera, performing surgery.

The figure was... large. Heavy-set.

"This is Anti?" Dimitri asked.

"Confirmed by three sources on the dark web. Anti is a woman. And... well, she was significantly overweight at the time."

Dimitri stared at the photo. He traced the outline of the figure. A heavy woman. Five years ago.

His mind flashed to the old photos of Katarina. The resemblance in body type was undeniable.

"It's a match," Dimitri murmured. "Physically, at least."

"Sir?" Lars asked. "You think Ms. Acosta is Anti? But she's... well, look at her now. And Anti is a neurosurgeon. Ms. Acosta has a degree in Art History."

"People change, Lars. Bodies change. And degrees can be bought or faked." Dimitri tapped the photo. "But the skill gap is the problem. You don't learn to perform experimental neurosurgery in a few years while dealing with a pregnancy and a weight loss journey. It's improbable."

He leaned back, his eyes cold. "But improbable isn't impossible. Keep digging. And don't stop looking for the girl's father. If Katarina is Anti, she's hiding more than just medical skills. She's hiding a life."

"Understood, sir."

Next door, Katarina looked at herself in the mirror. She touched her flat stomach.

"Thank god for old photos," she whispered.

Her phone rang. Candi.

Katarina put it on speaker while she painted her toenails.

"What do you want, Candi? I'm busy plotting world domination."

"You're going to be destroyed tomorrow!" Candi shrieked. "I called The Sun. They're running a story about your teen pregnancy. About how you were a whore!"

"Yawn," Katarina said. "Is that it?"

"And... and I heard about that Dr. Anti person Dimitri is looking for. They say she's a fat cow. Just like you used to be! Maybe you're related!"

Katarina smiled. The rumor she had planted years ago was working perfectly. "Goodbye, Candi."

She hung up.

"Mommy, can we get pizza?" Kaylee asked.

"Yes. But we have to wear disguises."

They put on hoodies and sunglasses. They opened the door.

Dimitri was in the hall, waiting for the elevator. He was alone.

He looked at Katarina. His gaze was different now. Less suspicious, more... calculating. He was dissecting her, layer by layer.

They got into the elevator.

Katarina stared at the numbers.

Kaylee's stomach growled. Loudly.

Dimitri glanced down. He saw the little girl rubbing her tummy.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a pristine, white silk handkerchief.

"Wipe your mouth," he said to Kaylee. "You have chocolate on your chin from earlier."

Kaylee took it. "Thanks, Grumpy Mister."

"Kaylee," Katarina scolded gently.

"It's fine," Dimitri said. He looked at Katarina. "You should feed her more."

"I feed her plenty," Katarina snapped. "She has a high metabolism. Unlike some people's egos."

The doors opened.

"Keep the handkerchief," Dimitri said, walking away.

Katarina looked at the white silk. It was embroidered with D.S.

She felt a pang. He was kind to the child. He just hated the mother.

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