I saw her dressed in a black dress earlier, and her mother attempted to force her to come downstairs, but the girl literally ran to her room and locked the door.
No one has seen her since, and I don’t think anyone here cares about her absence. Maybe they’re used to this behavior from her.
Back to the current moment. I stand on the periphery of the professionally decorated garden as part of security. If it weren’t for the black and white velvet tablecloths and the image of the deceased man, one would think this was a wedding reception.
The part that makes me stop and stare isn’t the number of people with a dangerous aura in one place. It’s also not the one-hundred-eighty-degree change in both Yulia’s and Konstantin’s behavior in public compared to their viciousness in private.
It’s how
