A MILLIONAIRESS HIRED A YOUNG MAN TO TEND HER GARDEN, BUT SHE NEVER IMAGINED WHO HE TRULY WAS
Autumn winds carried fallen leaves across the pathways, swirling them into playful patterns. Victoria stood near the window, gazing thoughtfully at her neglected garden. Over the years, it had become an unruly maze of tangled shrubs and towering grass—somewhere between a forgotten woodland and an abandoned lot.
“We really need to do something,” she murmured, speaking more to herself than anyone else.
She powered up her laptop and opened her inbox. A message from Elena Sergeyevna—a former acquaintance from the business world—caught her eye. Elena spoke glowingly of a young gardener: “Kirill is a true expert. In just a few months, he completely revived my garden, returning it to its former splendor.”
Victoria considered it. The estate had been hers for three years, ever since she resolved to start fresh. Yet the garden remained a project she continued to postpone.
Her thoughts drifted toward an old photo frame still resting on the shelf. The image showed her and Alexey—young, joyful, newly back from their honeymoon. She hesitated, then flipped the frame facedown. “No more dwelling on the past,” she told herself firmly.
Fifteen years had passed since Alexey vanished—without explanation, without a trace. Victoria still recalled every detail of that morning. He had risen early, as usual, kissed her on the cheek, and said, “I’ll be late tonight. Don’t wait for dinner.”
Those were the last words he ever spoke to her. He never returned. She had been desperate at first, frantically calling friends and acquaintances, yet no one had any answers. It was as if Alexey had disappeared into thin air—no clues, no sign of where he had gone. At times, it felt like he had never truly existed at all.
Later, a lawyer delivered divorce papers. Alexey hadn’t even met her in person. It took Victoria years to realize how little she had actually known about him. He had entered her life suddenly, won her heart with charm, and showered her with affection. But whenever conversation turned to his past, he skillfully evaded the topic with lighthearted jokes. She, blinded by love, had missed all the warning signs.
A phone call interrupted her thoughts. It was Elena Sergeyevna, checking in about the gardener. “Yes, have him come tomorrow at ten,” Victoria replied after a brief pause.
The next morning, she waited in her home office. At precisely ten o’clock, the doorbell rang.
A young man stood at the entrance—tall, well-built, with a confident stance and an observant gaze.
“Hello, I’m Kirill. Elena Sergeyevna mentioned you were looking for a gardener?” he said with a polite nod.
Victoria led him through the grounds, detailing the work that needed to be done. Kirill moved with deliberate precision, carefully surveying each corner, making notes in a small notebook, and asking thoughtful, technical questions.
“There’s a lot to tackle, but nothing too difficult. In two or three months, we can get everything into pristine condition,” he concluded after their walk.
His certainty was reassuring, and Victoria felt confident in her choice. They settled on the arrangements, and Kirill began work the following morning.
From her office window, she often found herself watching him. There was something captivating about the way he worked—every motion deliberate, without waste or urgency. It was as if he had an innate connection to nature, understanding exactly how to nurture it.
Gradually, the garden started to regain its former charm. The tangled weeds disappeared, paths took shape, and unruly hedges gave way to well-tended flowerbeds. Kirill worked tirelessly from dawn until dusk, pausing only briefly for lunch. Over time, Victoria grew accustomed to his constant presence. They occasionally chatted—discussing plants, the weather, literature. Kirill wasn’t just skilled; he had a natural gift for conversation.
Still, something about him sparked a quiet unease in Victoria…
A MILLIONAIRESS HIRED A YOUNG MAN TO TEND HER GARDEN, BUT SHE NEVER IMAGINED WHO HE TRULY WAS
Autumn winds carried fallen leaves across the pathways, swirling them into playful patterns. Victoria stood near the window, gazing thoughtfully at her neglected garden. Over the years, it had become an unruly maze of tangled shrubs and towering grass—somewhere between a forgotten woodland and an abandoned lot.
“We really need to do something,” she murmured, speaking more to herself than anyone else.
She powered up her laptop and opened her inbox. A message from Elena Sergeyevna—a former acquaintance from the business world—caught her eye. Elena spoke glowingly of a young gardener: “Kirill is a true expert. In just a few months, he completely revived my garden, returning it to its former splendor.”
Victoria considered it. The estate had been hers for three years, ever since she resolved to start fresh. Yet the garden remained a project she continued to postpone.
Her thoughts drifted toward an old photo frame still resting on the shelf. The image showed her and Alexey—young, joyful, newly back from their honeymoon. She hesitated, then flipped the frame facedown. “No more dwelling on the past,” she told herself firmly.
Fifteen years had passed since Alexey vanished—without explanation, without a trace. Victoria still recalled every detail of that morning. He had risen early, as usual, kissed her on the cheek, and said, “I’ll be late tonight. Don’t wait for dinner.”
Those were the last words he ever spoke to her. He never returned. She had been desperate at first, frantically calling friends and acquaintances, yet no one had any answers. It was as if Alexey had disappeared into thin air—no clues, no sign of where he had gone. At times, it felt like he had never truly existed at all.
Later, a lawyer delivered divorce papers. Alexey hadn’t even met her in person. It took Victoria years to realize how little she had actually known about him. He had entered her life suddenly, won her heart with charm, and showered her with affection. But whenever conversation turned to his past, he skillfully evaded the topic with lighthearted jokes. She, blinded by love, had missed all the warning signs.
A phone call interrupted her thoughts. It was Elena Sergeyevna, checking in about the gardener. “Yes, have him come tomorrow at ten,” Victoria replied after a brief pause.
The next morning, she waited in her home office. At precisely ten o’clock, the doorbell rang.
A young man stood at the entrance—tall, well-built, with a confident stance and an observant gaze.
“Hello, I’m Kirill. Elena Sergeyevna mentioned you were looking for a gardener?” he said with a polite nod.
Victoria led him through the grounds, detailing the work that needed to be done. Kirill moved with deliberate precision, carefully surveying each corner, making notes in a small notebook, and asking thoughtful, technical questions.
“There’s a lot to tackle, but nothing too difficult. In two or three months, we can get everything into pristine condition,” he concluded after their walk.
His certainty was reassuring, and Victoria felt confident in her choice. They settled on the arrangements, and Kirill began work the following morning.
From her office window, she often found herself watching him. There was something captivating about the way he worked—every motion deliberate, without waste or urgency. It was as if he had an innate connection to nature, understanding exactly how to nurture it.
Gradually, the garden started to regain its former charm. The tangled weeds disappeared, paths took shape, and unruly hedges gave way to well-tended flowerbeds. Kirill worked tirelessly from dawn until dusk, pausing only briefly for lunch. Over time, Victoria grew accustomed to his constant presence. They occasionally chatted—discussing plants, the weather, literature. Kirill wasn’t just skilled; he had a natural gift for conversation.
Still, something about him sparked a quiet unease in Victoria… ⬇️
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