The Bond Between Us (Anastasia and Herman) novel Chapter 1113

The countryside was calm, with a crisp chill in the air that bit deeper than anything in the city. A soft, misty rain floated over the winding country road, blurring the world into a watercolor painting.

Anastasia paused at the village entrance, her gaze lingering on a white sedan parked at the side. She turned to Kim, her assistant. “Did you notice that car when we got here?”

Kim shook her head. “No, Ms. Anastasia. Something wrong?”

Anastasia frowned. “Probably nothing. Let’s get to Grandma Shawna’s. The sooner we pay our respects, the sooner we can head home.”

The road into the village was too narrow for cars, so they left theirs at the entrance and continued on foot, umbrellas in hand, rain tapping gently above.

As they disappeared into the village, the door of the white sedan opened, and Sandy stepped out. She’d been lurking, waiting for an opening—something that would take Anastasia down for good. Neither Juliana nor Autumn had managed it; they couldn’t stand Anastasia, but they couldn’t touch her either. Sandy regretted not being harsher in the past. If only she’d been more ruthless, Herman wouldn’t have found his way back to Anastasia.

Standing on that misty lane, Sandy pulled out her phone and spoke quietly into it. “Make it look like an accident. Don’t leave anything obvious.”

...

Anastasia found Grandma Shawna’s house—a weathered old courtyard home with a sagging porch that looked like it had seen a hundred rainy seasons.

Grandma Shawna sat on a creaky lounge chair under the eaves, watching the rain with a soft, distant smile. She lived alone now, in her eighties but still sharp and lively.

Her claim to fame was double-sided embroidery—a rare art these days. Her eyesight wasn’t what it used to be, but she kept a trove of handmade treasures, each one a testament to years of work.

When she heard why Anastasia had come, she brought out her collection, her face lighting up with hope. “I’m old, dear. Won’t be around much longer. Once I’m gone, this craft might disappear, too. Can you really help spread the word? Make sure this skill isn’t lost?”

“We can,” Anastasia promised. “Grandma Shawna, your embroidery is stunning. This is real luxury, something truly ours. How long does a piece like this take?”

“That one—swans on the water—took me six months, back when my hands and eyes were steady. Now, I can’t even hold a needle,” Grandma Shawna said with a gentle laugh. “It’s up to your generation now.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify