//------------------------------// // обман // Story: Be Human: the All-American Girl Sidestories // by Shinzakura //------------------------------// It was a breezy day in the district of Kowloon in the tiny-nation state of Hong Kong, and to Millie Farmer, it was opportunity. Natives walked the streets in that friendly manner befitting a former British colony and a current nation in the Commonwealth; wealthy tourists from destinations around the globe wandered its streets, hailing from destinations far and wide. Others, as she watched, got off the Star Ferry and milled down Salisbury St, either turning into Kowloon Park Drive or continuing down the road along the public piers, for a number of reasons. But Millie’s reason? Simple: opportunity. Her one shot at having everything she always wanted, everything that she’d deserved, everything that she could never have in her former life. As to her former life? Well, if you knew her casually, she’d just say she was just a farm girl from Northwood, Iowa, awed by the big wide world and the chance to see it for herself. If she knew you well enough, she’d admit that she’d done some traveling and was a lot worldlier than her corn-fed, pure-hearted, straight from Worth County appearance seemed. If you really knew her, you knew that she had a knack for accounting, graduated with an MBA from the prestigious Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania, and spoke English (obviously!), Spanish, French and Russian fluently and German (though she was working on it!) and Chinese (needs more work….) passably. And if you were one of the very few people who truly knew Millicent Farmer, you’d know it was all a lie. Well, not all of it: she did have a knack for accounting, she did go to Wharton, and she did speak all those languages, but for the rest? Lies, damn lies, politics and an unearthly string of luck. But after today, it wouldn’t be a problem. Millie would be on top of the world for once and for all, never to return to her past…that dark, stinking, past. But for now, hey, things were looking up. Leaving her hotel, she headed down Kownloon Park Drive, past the empty remains of a now-shuttered Planet Hollywood, and towards a large, weirdly-medieval building a few streets down that stood out starkly against the modern skyline; in fact, it looked like someone stole a Scottish castle and dropped it right in the center of town. As she arrived, she noted a single brass plaque on the door: LONELY SPIRE PTY. LTD. The door itself was an antiquated wood and metal thing, keeping with the whole Dungeons & Dragons motif of the building. Using the door knocker, she rapped on the door three times, then waited for an answer. She didn’t have to wait long. A well-groomed gentleman opened the door. “Hello, and welcome to Lonely Spire. My name is Donny. May I help you, miss?” Time to go into cute mode. Guys like this love cute mode. “Well, I’m Millie, and I have an appointment with a Mr. Basil regarding the analyst position?” She bent over, just slightly enough to show cleavage but not enough to make it obvious. If he did, however, it didn’t show on his face. “Oh, please, come right in.” Ever the gentleman, Donny opened the door and allowed the young woman to come in. As she stepped in, she found the place looking more and more like a castle: arches, wall tapestries, marble floors and columns; the only apparent appeasements to the modern world were the ornate chandeliers that used AMOLED lights for illumination rather than any candle setup. She walked down the hall, until she ran into…the same guy again? But that was impossible, even in something as Disneyland-ish as this place! As she approached, she asked, “Didn’t I run into you just a second ago?” The man laughed, that same smile on his face. “Oh, you probably ran into my brother, Donny. I’m Danny. I take it you’re Ms. Farmer?” “Um…yes.” “The man gestured to the staircase. “Right through this way and up the stairs, then through the door at the top, please.” Millie did as she was bidden, up the stone stairs built into the side of the castle itself, towards the second floor. At the top, there was a door entitled BASIL, MANAGING DIRECTOR. Millie opened the door and went in, walking right into a modern office. The office was decked out in modern furniture, with a TV set to a financial network and magazines on a coffee table and various seats. Across the room was a pair of ornate wooden doors, though these looked more of a Victorian feel than the rest of the castle. Seated before the door was an ornate desk, a secretary’s desk, with a very familiar person sitting there. “Lemme guess,” she drolled as she approached. “You’re related to Donny and Danny, right?” The guy at the desk nodded eagerly, flashing her the same smile that she’d seen on that face twice before. “Oh yes, very much so. The other two are my brothers. My name’s Denny.” He stood up, grinning. “I know, people don’t expect to see triplets working at the same place, but we work well together and the boss appreciates our particular talents. Speaking of which, you’re right on time; the boss would like to see you now, if you’re ready.” Running into triplets took the wind out of her sails; if she kept her cute mode up, Millie knew it’d be spotted as an act in an instant. So instead she adopted a business demeanor. “Yes, please, if you would,” she said, all business. “Then right through this door, miss,” Denny said, and waved her through the baroque doors before closing it behind her. To her surprise, Millie found herself in something that looked like it was out of a time warp; in fact, it looked like the private home of Eleryne, the sorceress heroine of that fantasy novel, The Rimefrost Sword. Wood panels, old-fashioned wooden filing cabinets, a large oak desk with a typewriter and an antique granny phone. No sign of a computer, modern cellphones or anything that wasn’t older, than, say, the 1920s. “I suppose it looks…a tad old fashioned, but I’ve been informed that I have a, how shall we say, nostalgia for these sort of things. I just like the look of them.” Millie turned around and found herself looking at a dragon – a real life dragon. But strangely enough, the dragon was hardly what one would call frightening. If anything, he looked comical. He was red in hue, with his crest spines and chest scales a warm butter tone. He wore a waistcoat, shirt and tie and had spectacles on his snout, though whether these were of actual use or ornamental, she wasn’t sure. At the moment, he held a dainty cup of tea in one claw, and a teapot in the other. All in all, he looked like a collectable Pocket Dragon figurine than an actual scourge of the skies. “Probably because I look like some doddering old grandfather than someone as young and vital,” the dragon chuckled. Seeing the sudden look of shock on her face, he said, “No, I don’t read minds – but I get that response from just about everydrake I meet sooner or later.” Pouring her some tea, he offered it. “Believe it or not, I’m just in my 130s – that’s barely out of my childhood by dragon standards. But enough of me. Let us go over your CV, shall we?” She nodded. “Yes, sir.” “Well, went to the University of Pennsylvania, then Wharton…impressive. Four years as the regional financial analyst for Wells Fargo in Sioux City – your previous supervisor speaks of you in glowing terms. Can speak multiple languages; apparently very bright, too.” He set down the tablet and nodded. “Based on this all this, you more than qualify for the job, Ms. Farmer. But I have one question remaining.” She smiled. “Ask away, sir.” He then asked her the words she never thought she would hear: “I would like to you to tell me why you deserve the job, Ms. Ludmila Farmiga.” Mille looked oddly at him. “Excuse me, sir, but that’s not my name. My name is Millicen—” “Farmer, or who you pretend to be,” the dragon said smoothly. “You can lie to your parents…or those who think they’re your parents, at any rate…but you cannot lie to me. Do they know? Of course not – how could you have had your whole life with them if you did? But surely…surely they must have noticed something was wrong?” “Mr. Basil, I do not like the implications you’re making.” Millie was furious. How dare he? The dragon leaned over, getting right into her face. She could feel the heat rising from his craw. “I know truth, young lady. I know what it’s like to see lies. I know what it’s like to see someone and stomp them into the ground, only to realize that it was a mistake.” He sat back, drank his tea. “Do you think you’re the only one who’s changed her identity, ran away from her past?” She looked at him with utter distrust. “My name is actually Basil Jr., but when I was younger, I went by the name Garble. I was a young punk – ran around with some badflank dragons, and we were tough. Then we picked on a little shrimp named Spike. Turns out that he’s the younger adopted brother of the future archmage of Equestria. I found that out the hard way. I also found out that my father also had a run-in with Twilight Sparkle, so my family was very much on the outs with our own government. We later found the Equestriani Crown did nothing to encourage this, but the Dominion of Dragons pretty much destroyed us. “My parents…I’ve not seen them since the day we were kicked out of our noble house. With my hoard, I came to human-Earth and started in finance…that’s what my family was good at. I got very lucky, very lucky indeed. Do you know who owns the national debt of Greece? That would be me. Probably never get the money back, but that’s not the point: the point was helping people. The point was being a better dragon than I was to the little drake who grew up to be one of Princess Celestia’s senior diplomats.” He took another sip of his tea. “And when I met him again, he forgave me for everything I did, because he was brought up to be proud of who he was regardless of who he was raised by. It just took me a few more decades to learn that. “So tell me, Ludmila Farmiga, who’s pretending to be Millicent Farmer: why are you not who you say you are?” Millie stood there, silent. In all her years, her parents – the ones in Iowa – had never known, had brushed off every difference and coincidence as the trauma of her youth. They never suspected the truth – either of the truths. “How did you…?” “You can drop the accent, Ms. Farmiga. You don’t have to play the farm girl with me.” “I prefer to be Millie, because that’s who I want to be. Besides, believe it or not, I don’t have an accent; this is actually my voice in English.” “Ah, thought your life in Russia as the daughter of a Chechen mob boss gave you an accent. My apologies.” She’d had enough. “How the hell do you know about me! I’ve spent years burying it all! Hiding who I really am, trying to rise above it all – and you’ve undone everything in a moment! How the hell could you have done that?” Basil raised his free claw; a red sparkling cloud appeared in it. “Magic, of course. Each species back on Alter-Earth has a particular ability that none of the others have. For dragons, it’s the magic of truth. We know everything when it comes to truth, because it’s so ingrained in us. When you have hoards of valuables beyond imagination, you need to know who you can trust and who you can’t, which is why we developed veracimancy. In my case, all I had to do was use my magic to research things and know that Millicent Farmer is buried in a grave in St. Petersburg, Russia, right next to the person that everyone thinks is her mother. Miss Farmer only lived until the age of 13. Would you care to explain that?” Millie looked as though she was on the verge of tears. Everything she’d worked for, destroyed. “I….” “Would you care for a cup of tea? Tea always helps to calm the soul.” A second later, Basil said, “It’s not drugged, I promise. That’s not how dragon magic works and I find that sort of thing distasteful.” He poured her a cup of tea and bade her sit down in the nearby seat. “There’s milk, sugar and honey, if you care for any.” “No thanks.” Her hands were shaking, barely holding onto the cup. With some difficulty, she brought it to her lips and sipped; as the fluid went through her, it had a devastatingly calming effect, bringing her back to relative ground. “Wow, that’s….” Her mind flashed and she said, “I thought you said—” The dragon chuckled. “I meant what I said. The tea is a special blend from Zebrababwe, a gift from a client; it’s designed to calm the nerves. And I take it you were nervous, right?” She nodded; there was no use hiding it. “Good. Had you not been, you would be thrown out on your ear in an instant, obviously not proving worthy of trust.” “Then how do I prove it now?” “You tell me: how do you do it?” Several minutes passed as the young woman and the dragon sat there in silence, drinking tea. Though she was calmer now, that didn’t mean she was completely calm; she knew everything she had was on the line at this moment. The dragon had penetrated her defenses and discovered who she really was, and she now had to make sure he never got that information out. “I was born in St. Petersburg on December 30, 2011. My father was Ruslan Kadyrov, a senior leader in the Chechen Mob. My mother was Rachel Hardy, a former Miss Iowa who fell for my father’s riches and soon found out about what a monster he was, but too late to escape. My mother told me I was born of love but in retrospect I doubt it – Kadyrov is the kind of man who thinks forcing himself on a woman is foreplay. Thankfully, my mother raised me as she was raised, and I grew up very American in the middle of Russia and Chechnya, though my father insisted I bear a Russian name ‘just in case.’ “I won’t bother you with the details save that my mother was killed when I was fifteen; she tried to run away from him and he could never abide by anyone leaving him, since he was the one to do the dumping, not the other way around. After that, I was put in the care of his subsequent playthings, eventually ending up in the care of a zebra mare named Adimu; I was old enough to start being independent by that point, but I suspect Kadyrov wanted me under his thumb no matter what. By nature of being rather cautious, Adimu discovered what happened both to my mother and several of her predecessors and promised me she’d make sure I’d be taken away from Kadyrov as soon as possible – now that I was coming towards adulthood, my father started to make certain disturbing comments and touching me in ways no father should ever touch his child.” There was a look of rage in Millie’s eyes, a dragon’s fire that Basil knew from the times he’d disappointed his own father. Thankfully the elder Basil was never violent…well, not by dragon standards. Angry, she continued. “I only knew Adimu for less than a year, but she loved me for a lifetime’s worth. “When I turned 19, Adimu contacted an old lover of hers, a zebra stallion named Nkebe; she made him promise to get me to safety somehow. Nkebe was a mercenary and a shaman, so he used a lot of magic I’ll never understand to get me out of my father’s clutches safely. Together, they snuck me out of St. Petersburg, racing towards Moscow and the US Embassy as fast as he could. But he later told me that when Kadyrov found out about what Adimu had done….” Millie’s eyes started to water as he said, “Nkebe said there wasn’t enough left of her for a full casket. I swore that day I’d break Ruslan Kadyrov and watch him burn in hell. I loved my mother, and I loved Adimu – only they loved me enough to care for me.” The rage in her eyes was now predatory. There was a metallic click and Mille snapped out of her hate-induced reverie. Basil held up a claw and said to no one in particular, “I’m more than safe. Thank you for your concern.” She somehow sensed the disappearance of a presence, and Basil said, “Don’t worry about it. If you were an actual threat, I’d have several different ways of protecting myself. The security guards are just a bit…protective, is all.” “Protective?” “Yes. When you looked enraged, you had about five fully automatic rifles pointed at you courtesy of my security team.” The look in her eyes was one of fright, and he shrugged. “That’s just how business works when you’re this high up in the world of finance. But continue, Ms. Farmer.” He called me by my last name, not “Farmiga.” That’s a plus, she said to herself. “Somewhere just outside of Moscow, it was rainy and muddy on a very dark night. Nkebe was driving with the lights off to throw off some pursuers that my father had sent after us. Nkebe was so focused on ditching the tail that he didn’t see the other car rushing towards us. The last thing I remember was his shout to cover my face.” “I woke up in a hospital in Moscow a month later. I’d been in a coma for a month, one of only two survivors of the accident. And when the doctors found out, that’s when I discovered by pure luck, I’d had an accident where one of the passengers of the other car, like me, was thrown from the vehicle. She hadn’t been so lucky, though and was killed instantly. But that’s not where my luck was. The luck was that I looked exactly like the dead girl, an American from Iowa named Millicent Farmer. She was nearly fourteen and I’d turned 19 just a few months prior, but by some small miracle I looked younger than my age, so I was able to make the adjustment. “It had helped that Nkebe had been conscious just long enough to switch our clothing and IDs, then kill Kadyrov’s men. Just before he passed out, he cast a spell on me, something called a ‘genetic amniomorphic’ spell, to change my genetic makeup so that I’d essentially be Millicent’s twin; he then cast the same spell on her to make her the twin of me, sort of switching our bodies in a sense. That, along with some hefty bribes to the medical staff by Nkebe, ensured that my medical documents were doctored to the point of ‘near-malpractice’, ensuring that I was now Millie Farmer.” Basil templed his claws. “If what you’re saying is right, you were very lucky indeed. That spell was still experimental during the point you were in that accident. It was never designed to be used on humans – still isn’t, as far as I know. That spell could have killed you.” “I know. Nkebe couldn’t stop apologizing for that. In any case, a few weeks afterwards, Theodore and Susan Farmer came to Moscow to pick up their wayward, runaway child and took me with them, since I’d been identified as her. I lied, said I couldn’t remember the details of my life, and so off I went to Iowa and away from the hell I’d known as a child….” She trailed off. Basil knew she stopped on purpose. “Go on,” he said, gently. “…and into a new one. But this was one of my own making, in a sense: as I spent weeks with Mr. and Mrs. Farmer, and getting to know them as my parents, I realized what kind of kind, wonderful, loving parents they were – that they are – and how much they loved their daughter. I also found out how much of a monster the real Millicent Farmer was. That girl needed therapy – no, it was worse than that. She stole. She lied. Ma – that is, Mrs. Farmer – suspected that it had been Millie that had killed their pet collie, Lucky Gal. Pa – Mr. Farmer – said that I, or rather, the real Millie, had been less than kind to her friends. But that wasn’t all. From people at school, I found she’d done drugs, and stole, and cheated and even slept around with boys at a really young age. She was a monster. And then she was dead, and I was her.” “I’m curious as to how she ended up in Moscow.” “That’s easy: one day, she stole everything from her parents’ bank accounts and the trust fund. Bank fraud, not sure how she did it. She then bought a fake passport and flew to Moscow, where she was going to meet up with a cute guy she supposedly met on the internet. What she didn’t know is that the guy actually worked for Kadyrov and was going to sell her into sex slavery. Truth is, she got off easy by dying. But now I had to clean her mess.” “It was then I realized how much Ma and Pa – her parents, now my own – were giving her a second chance to straighten herself out…and though they didn’t know it, was giving me a second chance as well. Nkebe dropped by the summer just before high school started – they knew him as a backpacking zebra who just happened to be there at the right time – and told me that Kadyrov believed me to be dead, so I could live this life safe and free, but he’d watch from a distance when he could, because that’s what Adimu would have wanted. Until now, he’s the only one who knows the truth.” She finished the cup of tea. “Would you care for another?” Basil asked, getting up to pour himself one. When she nodded, he snapped his clawdigits and the cup refilled itself. “It’s a shame humans don’t have magic,” he said, returning to his seat. “It’s very useful at times. Anyway, please continue.” “It was during my first year with Ma and Pa that I learned to be their daughter, really be the child they deserved. I threw myself into my studies, and the fact that I spoke Russian fluently got me a few stares until I found that I had an affinity for languages; after that they just thought I was a polyglot. It was during the times that I saw how much Millicent had stolen from her parents – my parents – and how close they were coming to losing the farm because of it that drove me to business school. I stopped caring about revenge against Kadyrov, and about doing everything I could to save the family farm, because I needed to do right by my parents.” “But you’re not Millicent Farmer,” Basil pointed out. “With all due respect, Mr. Basil, bullshit – I might not have been born as Millie Farmer, but I became her, and proudly, too. Ma and Pa did everything they could for her and she stabbed them in the back – and yet they still did the same for me, even knowing that the chance that it would happen again. That’s the definition of parenthood – looking out for your kid, even when they’re so far lost you don’t know how they’ll turn out. Kadyrov may have given me my blood, but he was no parent. Rachel Hardy was a parent. Adimu was a parent. Nkebe, to the best he can be, is a parent. And Ma and Pa are definitely my parents. “Within a year, I’d earned my parents’ love; they loved Millie unconditionally, but there was always that hesitancy. But not anymore. As for everyone else, Millie the Monster, the brat proud to be a straight D student, was making A’s and getting into AP classes and was picking up languages like no tomorrow, pushed her way to the top; no one had any clue this was stuff that I’d learned years prior and much easier to understand being in my twenties, as opposed to supposedly still in my early teens. And while I couldn’t be at the top of my class, I came in fourth and worked my way through University and then Wharton. Then I made sure I got a high-paying job near home so I could be there when Ma and Pa needed me and save enough money to return the stolen funds back to the trust fund and their bank accounts. “So you’re asking me how I can prove it? Because I want revenge, Mr. Basil. Not against Ruslan Kadyrov, but against Millicent Farmer and what she did to her parents. And only I can provide that revenge in the name of my parents against their birth daughter. You could say in a bizarre sense that I want revenge against myself.” Basil paused in thought. “I see. So you care nothing about Ruslan Kadyrov?” “I want to see him pay for his crimes, sure, but I don’t want him dead. I’d truly be his daughter if that was the case, and I’m not that. I am the daughter of Theodore and Susan Farmer now, and though they don’t know it, there’s a Russian girl who is glad she’s finally found someone who loves her.” She set the cup down, and looked at the dragon, Millie Farmer until the very end. There was a knock at the door. Basil said, “Yes, come in.” Donny walked in, carrying a tablet. “Mr. Basil? You should see this.” With that he handed the tablet to the dragon, who skimmed its contents, occasionally running his claw across the screen to scroll or bring up new info. “I see. Thank you, Donny.” The man left and Basil handed the tablet to Millie. “I think you should read this.” The article on the screen was from Izvestia Online, the Moscow daily news site. She looked at Basil with uncertainty. “Is this real?” He nodded. “Tablet’s live; feel free to look up any site in the world.” In turn, she looked at, in order, The London Times, The New York Post, CNN, Al Jazeera, Univision Noticias and Equestria Daily; all, in one form or another, said the same thing: Ruslan Kadyrov, infamous Chechen gangster, had been caught by the Russian Interior Ministry Police. He was being charged with a lot of financial crimes – dozens of them, and was looking at twenty years in jail. “Now, Ms. Farmer, I want you to understand something: all those embezzling, fraud and other financial charges they’re hitting him with? They won’t stick. I know the financial world too well. He’ll walk. However....” The dragon leaned forward. “If the deaths of Rachel Hardy, Adimu and others were reported, he couldn’t walk away from that. There are too many bodies. But the police won’t know unless there was someone who could report it.” Millie understood what he said in a heartbeat. “No! It’ll destroy my parents!” He sighed. “Millie…do you love your parents? Not just the ones in Iowa, but your real mother and Adimu?” There was no hesitation in her voice. “Yes.” “Then you need to be a truthspeaker. That, more than anything else, would be your revenge against Millicent Farmer, against Ruslan Kadyrov. When used correctly, truth is a potent weapon that nothing can withstand. And I challenge you to use it.” Basil stood up from his seat, smiling. “You’ve got some things to think about, so I’ll let you go at this time. Have a pleasant evening, Ms. Farmer.” A few minutes Millie left the castle, headed towards her hotel. The sun was shining brightly on its way towards the other end of the sky, but there was no light in Millie Farmer’s heart, only pain. He’d found her out, but was saying nothing. No, the only way to reveal the truth, to gain vengeance for her loved ones and vanquish the demons…was to pull the trigger herself. Those thoughts haunted her for the rest of the day and into night, when she called home. “Hi, Ma!” “Oh, hello, sweetie!” Susan Farmer said to the girl she thought was her daughter. No, I am her daughter! Millie insisted. “How’s Hong Kong? Did you get the job?” “Don’t know yet,” Millie said, her voice shaking. Susan Farmer picked up on it immediately. “Millie, is something wrong?” “No, nothing’s wrong, Ma.” A few more seconds went by before she asked, “Ma – are you and Pa proud of me?” “What brought that on? Of course we’re proud of you, honey – whole dang town is! Why, just the other day I ran into your old third grade teacher, Mrs. Debussy, and she said that she’d never thought that the troubled little girl she taught would graduate from one of the nation’s most prestigious business schools.” She ran into Millicent’s old teacher, Millie told herself. Mrs. Debussy, though I’ve met her a few times, never actually taught me. “Thanks, Ma. I…I guess I’m just a little nervous.” “We have every confidence that you’ll get it. Why, after all, you’re a decent, smart, honest girl. Who wouldn’t want that at their company?” “I guess so. Well, it’s getting late here, so I’ll let you go, Ma. Talk to you later. Give my love to Pa, okay? Night.” As her mother ended the call, Millie looked at the phone in her hand. Never had it felt so heavy before. But in those last words, Susan had given her expectations of the girl she thought was her daughter: You’re a decent, smart, honest girl. No I’m not, Ma, Millie mused to herself. But it’s time I be the girl you taught me to be. It was three in the morning when the lone figure approached the Russian Embassy to Hong Kong. The guard looked at her and said in accented English, “I’m sorry, miss, but business hours start at eight in the morning. You’ll have to come back in the morning.” She shook her head, and in perfect Russian, said, “My name is Ludmila Farmiga. I am the daughter of Ruslan Kadyrov, and I need to speak to someone in charge immediately. I have evidence that he murdered several people, not the least of which was Rachel Hardy…my mother.” The news exploded the next day about the sudden revelation of a previously hidden daughter of Kadyrov’s, willing to provide evidence that he’d murdered several dozen people and other sapients. “Now that’s a woman unafraid.” Sitting at his desk, reading from a tablet, Basil smiled, then turned to Danny. “Get me our Moscow office and tell them to hire the best legal team in the country for Ms. Farmer. Spare no expense.” “So you’ll do everything you can for her?” a raspy voice asked. Basil looked up and saw a zebra stallion standing there, looking very out of place and uncomfortable in a suit. He was scarred and wore an eyepatch over an eye he lost. But his good eye reflected worry and concern. “We go the extra mile for our clients, sir, and I mean it. Plus, that was an example of an incredibly brave young female, regardless of species. I assure you, we’ll go the distance for her. You needn’t worry, Mr. Nkebe – we’ve got it under control.” At the trial, speaking with a ferocious grasp of the truth, Ludmila Farmiga told the world about her father and the kind of monster he was, the deals he made, the beings he murdered – and the fact that he’d turned a lecherous eye towards her and would have succeeded had it not been for the courage of Adimu. In turn, Kadyrov’s legal team turned on her hard, exposing the lie of her life that was Millicent Farmer and the double-life she’d lead. In response, Millie wielded the truth like a lightsaber, bravely admitting that though she loved the Farmers, she wasn’t truly her daughter and that the real Millie Farmer was dead, buried with Rachel Hardy. Subsequent tests proved this, and Ludmila Farmiga was truly exposed to the world. When the two came face to face, Ludmila gave no mercy whatsoever. She told the jury every sordid detail, from his abuse to his detailed discussions about how he’d killed his lovers, from how much she cried when her mother and then much later one Adimu had died, to her fears that her father would take her in the same way he’d done with his other women. She’d labeled him monster, creature, cretin, and the jurors fell right in line with her assessment. In the end, Kadyrov was given the death sentence for the dozens of murders at his hand. But for her own crimes, his lawyers found a chink in her defense and had her sentenced to prison for identity theft. In there, it was only a matter of time before he could get his hands on her and get his revenge for having his life turned against him, daughter or not. For the first time in her life, Millie felt completely afraid – and completely free. She’d told the truth and gained not revenge, but justice – and more than just justice…peace of mind. Whatever happened next, it would be what meant to happen. A teary Theodore Farmer looked at the girl he thought was his daughter, and didn’t know how to react. He and his wife had flown to Moscow, where Millie was imprisoned, to either get the truth or get their daughter out of jail. They expected this all to be a sham, but this time not of their daughter’s fault. This time, they trusted Millie. Looking at her on the other side of the transparent aluminum, it was clear she loved them, and he was having a hard time believing her words. “So you’re saying you’re not our Millie?” “I’m sorry,” she began, “but I—” The door behind the Farmers burst open, and Basil walked through, a wide smile on his face; he was followed in short order by Denny. “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Farmer, I presume?” Susan Farmer looked at the well-dressed dragon. “Yes, that’s us.” “Good, this will make it easier, then.” He looked at Millie sternly, then said, “You can drop the act now, Millie. I cannot apologize enough that the FSB didn’t extract you sooner. I’ve called the Minister of Justice personally to convey my displeasure with the situation.” The three humans looked at the dragon as if he were insane. It was Millie who spoke first. “Mr. Basil, I, uh….” “Well, since you’re such at a loss for words, allow me. Mr. and Mrs. Farmer, your daughter did a very brave thing, I’d like you to know. When we found out about Kadyrov’s fraud against our firm, our investigators worked with the Russian FSB to bring charges. However, we knew this wasn’t going to stick. It was then that one of my private investigators found out about Mr. Kadyrov’s secret daughter. The one that had been killed in the same accident Millie was in year ago, by amazing coincidence – one that is a dead ringer for your child.” “Is this true?” Theodore Farmer turned and looked at Millie, who looked as though she didn’t know what to say. “The hard part was faking all those blood and DNA tests to make it look as though she wasn’t your daughter,” Basil continued to say, lying through his teeth. “But I suspect the hardest part for Millie – and the one I think took by far the most courage – was telling the whole world she wasn’t your daughter when that wasn’t true.” Basil looked at Millie, as the Farmers looked at her as well, hoping for a sign. “I…it wasn’t easy,” she began, telling the truth from her heart, letting it all out. “Denying the parents that have loved me so, have always taken care of me and wanted the best for me. I felt like I’d hurt you all over again.” Basil leaned forward, and a flicker of magic came into his forepaw. “Mr. Farmer, this is a bloodcharm. Touch the stone, then Millie will touch the stone. If she’s not your true daughter, then the stone will break.” The dragon handed the farmer a blood-red ruby, which glowed a soft purple when he touched it. Theodore then slid the small gem through the window, his breath stalled as he didn’t know what to do. Millie took the gem…and it didn’t shatter. It glowed even brighter, a sign of truth. “There, sir, see?” Basil said, with a grin. “Well, Mr. Basil,” Susan said, “we love our daughter…but the testimony… it seemed so real.” “Truth can be subjective, madam. I have no doubt that what Millie said on the witness stand was true – but only because she was speaking as Ludmila Farmiga, not as herself. Your child is yours, after all – and Ludmila was never yours.” The two older humans nodded at the sage wisdom of the dragon. “Now then, you may want to wait at your hotel for a bit; she’s got a ton of paperwork to fill out before they release her to my company’s care. But I assure you, once she’s out, we’ll celebrate. I’ll remain with her to ensure the FSB keeps their end of the bargain.” “Thank you, Mr. Basil,” Mr. Farmer said, offering his hand, which Basil happily shook. Turning back to his daughter, he smiled. “We’ll see you in a few hours, honey,” he said, never more sure about his daughter than now. His wife blew her daughter a kiss and with that, both left the visitation room. A few seconds went by before Denny looked at Basil. “Okay, they’ve just cleared the security perimeter, sir. Go ahead.” “My thanks.” Basil turned to Millie. “I knew you had it in you: the means to shine the truth like a beacon.” “But I lied, Mr. Basil – I’m not their daughter. How can I ever face Ma and Pa again?” Basil grinned with a twinkle in his eye. “Did the gem break?” “Well, no, but—” “See? The gem says that you’re the daughter of Theodore and Susan Farmer.” The look on her face was one of utter confusion. “But how?” “Easy: the gemstone measures truth, not blood or DNA. Millie, your father truly loves you and you him. That’s what the gem measured, and that’s what it says: you’re their child.” He snapped his fingers and a silver chain suddenly appeared attached to the gem. “Now, whenever you wear it, it will always show the person looking at you the truth of who you are: Millicent Sandra Farmer, daughter of Theodore and Susan, and no one will ever doubt you. Needless to say, Ludmila Farmiga no longer exists.” She smiled, looking at the gem, and what it meant. “So the spell lies. Pure sophistry.” “Well, we dragons do place a high value on the truth…but I’ve been known to embellish a bit here and there at times,” he chuckled. Coughing to get back to his focus, he said, “So, about the job. You start Monday. Full pay package, benefits and the like included. Plus, I’ll throw in a decent bonus so you can give it to your parents – after all, there is all that money that you need to make up for, right?” “Well, not me…but, yeah, me,” she said, never so happy in her life to owe a lot of money to someone. “But I do have one question, Mr. Basil.” “Just call me Garble. Mr. Basil makes me feel old,” he said with a laugh. “Other than that, ask away.” “Fine. So what’s with the triplets?” He looked at her, a warrior of truth, someone a dragon could be proud to associate with. “Oh, that’s a long story,” he began, “but I’ll have plenty of time to tell you.”