“Is it true that you have a second child, but you only take care of one?”—I hear a woman’s voice in the crowd of journalists.
— “Of course not. Next question.”
— “We found your son,” the journalist counters. “We have photos.” I receive the photo in a minute. I’m stunned, examining the boy. He has the same rare color of eyes as mine.
— “It’s smart, of course, to attribute it to me…” I freeze because I see the last photo. I see her. Olya is holding the same boy in her arms and smiling.
— “Explain why you aren’t participating in raising your second son.”
— “No comment.” I shove the journalists away and go to the car. The most persistent ones start pounding the glass and the roof of the vehicle, demanding an answer. Meanwhile I quickly take pictures on my phone and send them to my assistant with the words:
— “Lebedeva Olga. Find her. Urgently!”