Felt a cold knot tighten in Anya’s stomach. Nineteen twenty-two. A year of hunger, of desperate grasping, of new foundations built on ruin. Her fingers, trembling slightly, found purchase on the laptop’s trackpad, the screen’s glow reflecting a grim determination in her eyes. Searched first for broad terms: “1922 Russian famine local impact,” “economic shifts post-revolution.” Pages loaded, filled with stark statistics and harrowing accounts. Her family’s city, then a lesser-known provincial town, appeared frequently in the records. Scrolled through digitized newspapers, their yellowed pages now stark white on the monitor. Headlines screamed of scarcity, of political purges, of societal upheaval. Tried to pinpoint anything specific, anything that Anastasia might have considered a “new foundation.” Minutes bled into hours. Her eyes burned, tracing lines of text about confiscated properties, new cooperatives, old wealth dissolving. A pattern began to emerge, faint at first, then clearer with each archived article she unearthed. Observed several articles detailing the sudden, precipitous decline of particular prominent families. One name kept surfacing: the Dubrovins. Once titans of industry and land ownership in the region, their influence had been vast, their fortune legendary. Found a glowing society piece from early 1922, praising the Dubrovins’ latest charitable venture, their lavish estate. Then, just months later, the tone shifted. Reports spoke in hushed tones of “unforeseen financial difficulties,” “sudden reversals of fortune.” No concrete reason was ever given for their collapse. Just vague mentions of market instability, bad investments, or the shifting political landscape. But Anya, knowing Anastasia’s ruthlessness, sensed something far more deliberate, far more sinister. Their magnificent estate, its sprawling gardens, and its opulent halls, had been appropriated by the state. Within a year, the Dubrovin name, once synonymous with prosperity, had vanished from public record, swallowed by the tumultuous era. Felt a chill creep up her spine. This wasn’t just a family losing money; this was an eradication, a swift and brutal dismantling. Anastasia’s cryptic entry about a

Chapter 9: The Vanished Fortune