Is it a stroke of luck to kick off a long-awaited internship with a corporate event?
Lera wasn’t sure. How could she be? This was her first internship, after all. She hadn’t come across any old wives’ tales about starting a job with a party. Not that she put much stock in superstitions anyway. She trusted her gut more, but today, her intuition was oddly silent.
Regardless, Lera didn’t have a choice in the matter. Whether she liked it or not, she had to attend this celebration. Her official internship start date was stamped on the paperwork for today, and it just so happened that today was also the tenth anniversary of the clinic, with mandatory attendance for all staff. Same old, same old—rules are rules.
“Changed your mind?” Lera shook her head as if snapping out of a daze and glanced at the taxi driver with a puzzled expression. “This is your stop,” he nodded toward a striking, clearly recently built structure.
Lost in thought, Lera had completely missed the moment they arrived at her destination.
“No turning back now,” she muttered, more to herself than to the driver. “Thanks,” she added, handing over the fare she’d prepared in advance before stepping onto the scorching sidewalk.
On this pivotal day for twenty-six-year-old Lera, the private ophthalmology clinic with the straightforward name “Vision” and an intricate logo resembling an esoteric “third eye” was marking a decade since its founding. For all those significant years, the renowned clinic had been led by Lera’s father, Valeriy Bokshay. She was named after him.
Her mother had chosen the name, as her father’s involvement in his younger daughter’s life was sporadic at best—limited to the most critical moments. Being an out-of-wedlock child, as Lera was, always came with complications, and not everyone was willing to face them head-on.
Valeriy dealt with it, but only on his own terms. To put it bluntly, he did what he deemed necessary. He didn’t give Lera his last name, but he did support her—selectively. Usually, only when her mother asked. And her mother only reached out to her former lover when she couldn’t manage on her own. At least, those were the instances Lera knew about.
Six years ago, at her mother’s request, Valeriy ensured Lera’s admission to medical school so she wouldn’t struggle to find work later. Now, continuing that trajectory, he had brought her into his clinic for her internship.
Lera’s mother, Ruslana Velyhorska, considered these actions nothing short of heroic, especially since Valeriy had a family—a powerful wife and another daughter, two years older than Lera. Yet, Valeriy never hid his younger daughter and even invited her to his home on occasion.
As a child, Lera often attended her father’s birthday celebrations, each time feeling a pang of jealousy toward her older sister, who got to see Valeriy every day. Despite his persistent efforts to bring his daughters closer, they never managed to bond. Looking back, though, Lera realized that might have been for the best.
Despite the frosty relationship between the sisters, Lera always seized the chance to visit her father. That is, until his forty-fifth birthday, when she deliberately skipped the event for the first time. She ignored the following birthdays as well. By then, she was old enough to understand that not everyone in the elegant two-story estate with a pool and tennis court welcomed her presence. So, she started declining invitations, coming up with plausible excuses.
The last time Lera saw the entire Bokshay family together was eight years ago—and not at one of Valeriy’s birthday parties. After that particularly unfortunate incident, she would have preferred to avoid them altogether.
But now, no one except her father could help her secure a job. Among her close circle and acquaintances, he was the only one with such connections. And for the sake of this desperately needed position, Lera was prepared to endure gossip and sideways glances. You can withstand anything when you have a goal—and even more so when you have no other choice.
She would adapt. She had to. If you set your mind to it, you can endure far worse. And she’d start with today’s celebration.
Lera checked to make sure the hem of her white lace dress—the only one in her wardrobe suitable for the occasion and the sweltering August heat, which seemed to break temperature records daily—hadn’t ridden up. She lightly touched her blonde hair, tied into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, to ensure it hadn’t come loose. Her gaze swept over the long row of parked luxury cars, all gleaming and oversized. For the first time in her life, she felt a pang of sympathy for Cinderella—not for the usual reasons, but for something else entirely. She also marveled at the fairy-tale heroine’s courage, however fictional. Only someone truly daring could step into a crowd where nearly everyone boasted above-average wealth and social standing, and still hold their head high—high enough to charm a prince.
Lera wasn’t expecting to meet a prince at this event, but she wouldn’t mind forging good relationships with her new colleagues. Especially during this adjustment period, their support could prove invaluable. So, she stretched her lips into a smile and crossed the threshold of the venue called “Empire.”
The moment she stepped inside, she nearly choked on the blast of cold air from the air conditioning. Her smile froze into a grimace, and the sharp contrast in temperature made her lungs tighten. It took her a moment to respond to the standard question at private events, “Your name?” asked by the host. After finding her on the list, the young man smiled and gestured for her to proceed into the hall.
Her eyes couldn’t help but linger on the details. She’d never been in a place like this before.
Everything around her was metal, glass, and leather. The gray walls were adorned—and slightly softened—by massive paintings in shades of blue and gray, reminiscent of Fauvism. But she only caught these details out of the corner of her eye. Ahead lay the doors to a new reality, one she had to step into if she didn’t want to spend her life stuck behind a desk at a local clinic—and that would be the best-case scenario.
Lera took one step, then another… The countless figures moving in the depths of the hall made it hard to focus. Her heart pounded against her chest in a rapid rhythm, gradually blending into the collective hum of voices and harmonizing with it… Her vision slowly sharpened, and ten steps ahead, she saw the one person she least wanted to encounter—not just here in this restaurant, but anywhere at all.
Lera knew this man couldn’t possibly miss such an important event for him, yet she had hoped… Well, she wasn’t even sure what she had hoped for.
“If I’m not mistaken, Valeria Valerievna?” a voice interrupted from the side, pulling Lera’s gaze away from the ghost of her past. A handsome, lean man with neatly styled dark hair and warm brown eyes stood beside her. Lera forced another smile and nodded. “I’m David Zontov, the chief medical officer. Pleasure to meet you. I saw your photo in HR. Welcome to our little family.”
* * *
The “family” space, decked out in gray and white tones, looked like a spread from a glossy magazine’s “modern design” section. The only thing breaking the sleek, contemporary vibe was a vibrant poster covering half the wall, proclaiming “We’re 10!” in bold letters. Thankfully, none of the women in the room were wearing formal evening gowns, so Lera wouldn’t stand out in the festive crowd like that bright orange text on the gray wall.
If it weren’t for her desire—more like necessity—to connect with her colleagues in a casual setting (if you could call this upscale event casual), Lera would have preferred to tuck herself into the nearest corner and wait out the required time. Just long enough to be polite, and not a minute more. But now that the chief medical officer had drawn the room’s attention to her, with whispers and curious glances from the attendees, Lera couldn’t hide behind anyone. So, she squared her shoulders, suppressed the urge to adjust her dress, and flashed a dazzling smile.
“I’m thrilled to meet you, David…”
Lera paused noticeably, studying the man’s face, waiting for him to offer his patronymic. She couldn’t just call the chief medical officer by his first name. That felt… improper. A breach of protocol, or something like that.
“Outside the clinic, it’s just David. For you,” Zontov emphasized at the end.
Really? Such unexpected familiarity… Why?
Lera was taken aback by the implication, though she was certain it didn’t show on her face. Over the past eight years, she had mastered hiding her emotions behind a mask of neutral friendliness. It made coexisting with strangers easier—and sometimes not just strangers. Lera had long since learned that the moment people sense they’ve touched a nerve or spotted a vulnerable emotion, they’re quick to exploit it, whether in business or personal matters.
“Then call me Lera. Outside the clinic,” she replied with a faint smile, mirroring his emphasis.
“Perfect, Lera!” David exclaimed, taking her by the elbow. “Valeriy is currently chatting with the mayor. His wife is a regular patient at our clinic. We’ve also got the chairman of a bank board, the city prosecutor, the market director, the owner of the ‘Empire’ restaurant chain, the cable factory director, and a few other big names in attendance…”
Lera listened, feeling how far removed she was from all this. Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to mingle with the city’s elite. Her father, on the other hand, loved to show off and impress. He relished displaying his best qualities and showcasing his most advantageous skills. Once upon a time, her mother had fallen for that polished image.
“Quite the influential crowd,” Lera remarked, just to keep the conversation going. She still couldn’t figure out why the chief medical officer was sticking by her side instead of giving her some space. From an outsider’s perspective, it might look like Lera was someone important—or personally connected to Zontov. Did he greet all interns this way?
“Many people want to congratulate your father and the entire team on such a milestone. Ten years is a long time for any institution in the medical field, especially a private clinic. It’s a shame Makar Andriyovych couldn’t make it.” David led Lera to a table laden with an assortment of drinks and asked, “What’ll you have? The formal part of the evening is about to start, and afterward, we’ll all move to the adjacent hall for a proper meal.”
Lera wasn’t fond of alcohol. It went to her head far too quickly. But everyone around her was holding a glass, and she didn’t want to stand out on her very first day.
“White wine, please.”
Zontov handed her a glass, took one for himself, clinked it against hers, and toasted, “To you, your first day of work, and to ‘Vision,’ of course. May it become a second home to you, as it has for all of us, and may the team become your second family.”
Lera didn’t comment on the toast. The idea of the clinic as a “second home” sounded dubious, but nitpicking the chief medical officer’s words at their first meeting felt impolite. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass her father with her behavior. Their relationship might not be the warmest, but by bringing his younger daughter into his clinic, he had vouched for her. And Zontov, without a doubt, knew that Valeria Velyhorska was the boss’s illegitimate child. So, Lera stayed silent and took a sip. The wine was dry, even slightly bitter, which was just as well. She wouldn’t be tempted to finish it.
“And who’s Makar Andriyovych?” Lera couldn’t recall where she’d heard the name or what connection this man had to the ophthalmology clinic.
“Korsun. Co-owner of ‘Vision,’” Zontov explained kindly, though what he thought remained a mystery. If she didn’t even know who owned the clinic, it meant she wasn’t that close to her father. Whether that was good or bad for her, Lera wasn’t sure yet. Maybe it was time to stop asking questions. It felt safer to just smile and let Zontov—or anyone else—do the talking until she got her bearings and figured out what was safe to say and what was off-limits.
Then it hit her. How could she have forgotten? Korsun was her sister’s married name. So, the co-owners had married their children. Interesting. Had Ilona met her husband by chance, or had their parents arranged it? Lera knew nothing about it, even though she had attended that ill-fated wedding. But on that day, she had barely listened to the conversations and slipped away at the first opportunity.
A pause settled into their conversation, and Lera glanced at the table to avoid looking around as if something caught her interest. She had no idea how to behave here or what to do. Her father was preoccupied with an important discussion. Perhaps she should even thank Zontov for taking her under his wing.
At that moment, someone stopped beside her and reached for a glass. Lera couldn’t help but notice the broad, almost square palm and neatly trimmed nails. Clearly male fingers deftly grasped the delicate stem…
“Good evening,” a voice sounded above her, sending a chill down Lera’s spine as if icy air had brushed against her. Her neck stiffened. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
With great effort, Lera forced herself to turn and look at the man’s face.
Up close, he was the same as before—and yet different. The once somewhat awkward but still attractive features had become more defined, even sharper. His striking blue eyes gazed at her directly, inquisitively, as if he were trying to recall something but couldn’t. He was broader in the shoulders now, sturdier, and next to the lean Zontov, he appeared more solid, more imposing.
“Are you pulling our leg, Stas? It’s not right to unsettle a young lady like this,” David remarked with a sly tone.
“But I genuinely don’t remember.”
“This is Valeria—your wife’s sister.”