CHAPTER 3: THE ACCIDENTAL REVEAL

After the main announcement, the program moved on to the distribution of school supplies, books, and vouchers. The students lined up in an orderly yet noisy manner, each waiting their turn to receive what was being given.

The representatives from the Volkov Group stood beside the teachers, handing out the items personally. One by one, students stepped forward, accepted their packages, and expressed their thanks — some shyly, some politely, all speaking in English or the local language.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you very much.”

“We appreciate this, sir.”

The process went smoothly until it was Mikaela’s turn.

She walked up to the table with her usual relaxed, unbothered posture, her hands hanging loosely at her sides. Standing directly in front of her was the same man who had been watching her from the stage earlier — tall, broad‑shouldered, with sharp gray eyes and an air of quiet authority that made most people feel nervous just looking at him.

He handed her the bundle of books, notebooks, and other supplies. Then, leaning forward slightly, he spoke directly to her in English, though his voice carried a deep, distinct Russian accent.

“Good day. I hope these will be of use to you in your studies.”

Mikaela simply shrugged her shoulders casually and took the items from his hands without hesitation. Before she even realized what she was doing, the words slipped out naturally — in perfect, fluent Russian, without any trace of hesitation or accent.

"Спасибо. Я уверена, что они будут очень полезны."

“Thank you. I am sure they will be very useful.”

For a split second, a short silence hung between them.

Mikaela blinked, suddenly aware of what had just come out of her mouth. But instead of panicking or making a big deal out of it, she just gave him a small, blank nod, turned around, and walked away as if nothing unusual had occurred.

She caught up with her friend, who was already a few steps ahead, and spoke in her usual loud, carefree tone, as if the entire exchange had never happened.

“Come on, let’s head straight to the canteen after this! I am starving, and this whole program is already giving me a headache.”

Her friend just laughed and followed along, completely unaware of what had just taken place.

But behind them, the man remained standing where he was, his hand still resting lightly on the table. His expression did not change much — still serious, still composed — but his eyes held a clear glint of surprise and interest that he did not bother to hide.

He had expected her to stutter, to look confused, or to reply in broken English just like everyone else. He certainly had not expected her to answer in his own language — flawlessly, naturally, as if she spoke it every single day.

And what intrigued him even more was how she acted afterward. She did not boast, did not stop to explain herself, and did not even glance back to see his reaction. She simply walked away, as if speaking Russian was the most ordinary thing in the world.

He turned slightly toward one of his colleagues standing beside him, keeping his voice low as he continued watching her retreating figure.

“Interesting… very interesting indeed.”

To be continue...

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