Seventeen.

Maria

"I don't know any more than what you do." The words catch in my throat, and suddenly I wonder if I've said too much.

"Is that so?" Alexander asks, a hint of skepticism in his posh tone. "Your father was a very important man. He never told you anything? Not even about his old friends?"

"My father works with computers," I insist, my voice wavering despite my best efforts. "And he never talked about friends."

The men exchange glances, clearly not convinced by my answer.

"He works with computers, yet you don't have a phone?" Ippolit asks softly. "No social media presence for a young lady like yourself. Why?"

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, keenly aware of their scrutinizing gazes. "My father doesn't trust it," I say, trying to sound confident but feeling anything but. "He thought it wouldn't be safe for me."

"Safe?" Ippolit presses, narrowing his eyes. "Did he ever tell you why he was so concerned about your safety?"

My hands tremble, and I pull the pillow closer to me to hide my