— These doctors were paid — interrupted by Mikhail. — Our mother is a rich woman. With his money he can buy whatever report he wants.
The judge looked at him strictly.
— You will only speak when asked a question.
Mikhail was silent, but I saw him clench his arm in his fist.
Then Sylvia’s lawyer became.
— Mrs. Mileva, is it true that your husband died forty-six years ago?
— Yes.
— And that after his death you never married a new marriage?
— That’s right.
— Then how do you explain the birth of this child?
Whisper went through the hall.
I pressed Emilia harder to myself.
— I am ready to explain everything, but only when the other person who has to do with this story arrives.
— What other person? — the judge asked.
I looked at the door.
She was closed.
He had promised me he would come this morning. But the meeting was over forty minutes, and his place was still empty.
For the first time, fear shook my heart.
Did my children do anything to stop him from coming?
Hadn’t he changed his mind at the last minute?
Sylvia’s lawyer put a picture on the table.
It was made at my husband Georgi’s funeral. Then I was only thirty-three, dressed in a black dress, and standing next to the closed coffin.
— Ms. Mileva — continued the lawyer, — do you claim that the father of this newborn was a man buried almost half a century ago?
Sylvia turned to me terrified.
— Are you talking about Dad?
I did not answer.
— Mom, that’s impossible!
— I know how it sounds.
— No! — she shouted. — Don’t you understand? This proves that you have lost touch with reality!
Emilia woke up and started to move restless. I tried to calm her down, but my hands were shaking.
The judge watches me for a few seconds before asking:
— Where is the birth certificate and the child’s medical documents?
My lawyer put a new folder in front of him.
— The documents are authentic. Genetically, the baby is Mrs. Mileva’s biological daughter.
— And who is the father?
At that moment, the courtroom door opened.
Everyone turned.
The courtroom door opened with such noise that Emilia jumped into my hands.
She betrayed a quiet, sleepy whining and squeezed her little fingers into the fabric of my vest.
I pressed her closer to my chest.
Everyone in the hall turned.
Sylvia is cold.
Mikhail slowly stood up from his chair.
