The argument, the final one, was the fuse. It started, like always, with money, or more accurately, the lack thereof. Marcus was talking yet again about his century project, the sprawling lake house he was building. It wasn’t meant to be just a vacation home. It was supposed to be a mansion, a palace designed to impress his superiors and the right people at the city council. That house had already sucked up every dime of our savings.

Then came the credit cards and personal loans. Now, it turned out, we had a new set of immediate debts. «Naomi, I need another $75,000,» he tossed out that morning, not even looking up from his plate of scrambled eggs.

He spoke about the sum as if he were asking me to pass the salt. I froze, coffee mug in hand. «Marcus, where are we going to get it? We already owe the bank nearly a quarter of a million dollars. My salary as an administrator at the regional manufacturing hub barely covers the interest payments and groceries.»

He finally looked at me. His gaze was cold, as if I wasn’t his wife, but an irritating distraction. «I’m not asking where we’re going to get it. I’m telling you, I already finalized the details with the contractors. I need the money by the end of the day.»

«Finalized?» The word rang metallic in my voice. «You finalized this without consulting me? Again, Marcus? This house is going to ruin us. It’s a bottomless pit.»

«This house is our future!» He slammed his hand on the table, making the silverware rattle. «You don’t understand that, because your mind works like a payroll clerk at the plant. I’m building a career. I need to be seen. I need respect. When the state senator comes to visit, he needs to see a certain level, not your little vegetable garden.»

«My little vegetable garden, at least, feeds us,» I snapped back. It was the wrong thing to say. Marcus jumped up, his face twisted with rage.

«I am sick of your complaining, sick of your pettiness. You are dragging me down. I’ll handle this myself. Get dressed. We’re leaving.»

«Leaving? Where?» I asked, bewildered. «To meet with someone at his office. We need to sign some papers. I’ll explain on the way, but don’t bring anything.»

He scanned me critically. «Leave your purse and your phone. This is a confidential discussion.» His tone allowed for no arguments.

I had grown used to obeying him. Over the years of our marriage, he had systematically chipped away at my will, convincing me that I understood nothing about serious business, that my place was at home while he climbed the ladder of success. I nodded silently, grabbed a light jacket, and followed him to the car.

We drove in silence. The city fell behind, replaced by dreary suburban strip malls and desolate roads. I tried several times to ask where we were going and what papers he meant, but Marcus just waved me off.

His profile was taut as a wire. After about 30 minutes, he suddenly veered off the highway onto a narrow, poorly paved road that led toward some rural vacation homes. The car went another 500 yards and stopped next to a dilapidated bus shelter.

There was no one around, just empty fields and a distant line of trees. «Get out,» he said curtly. «Why?» I didn’t understand.

«Get out, I said. We’re here.» I obediently opened the door and stepped onto the shoulder. The wind immediately whipped my hair around.

I turned, expecting him to get out too. But Marcus didn’t even turn off the engine. He just stared at me through the windshield.

«Marcus, what’s going on? Where is this person?» He smiled, a cruel, unfamiliar smile. «There is no person, Naomi. There’s only you and your problem with money. You didn’t want to help, so figure out your problems on your own.»

The realization dawned on me slowly, chillingly. «What do you mean?» «I mean I’m leaving you, and your debts, and your constant whining. I’m starting a new life, and you can start yours right here.»

With those words, he floored the gas. The car sped away, kicking up a cloud of dust. I stood frozen in the middle of the road, utterly alone.

I couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t be happening. It was a stupid, cruel joke.

He would turn around and come back, laughing. But the car didn’t turn around. It shrank into a speck and vanished around the bend.

The silence that followed was deafening. I mechanically shoved my hands into my jacket pockets. Empty. No wallet, no phone.

He had taken everything. A panicked thought flashed in my mind. Eighteen miles to the city, on foot.

How long would that take? Six hours? Seven? I’d arrive well after dark.

Despair rose in my throat like an icy wave. I slumped onto the shaky wooden bench under the rusted metal roof of the shelter. Tears streamed from my eyes.

How could he? After 15 years of marriage, just toss me out of the car on the side of the highway like a piece of garbage? I didn’t immediately notice that I wasn’t alone.

In the darkest corner, huddled in a ball, sat an elderly woman. She wore an old but well-made coat, and her eyes were hidden by large, dark sunglasses. The kind blind people wear.

Her head was bowed. She seemed to be sleeping. I nearly jumped at the surprise.

I sat there for probably 20 minutes, trying to stop shaking and figure out what to do. A few cars sped past, paying me no attention. I tried to lift my hand to flag one down, but the drivers only accelerated.

No one wanted to stop for a lone woman on a desolate road. The sun began to dip toward the horizon. It was getting chilly, and suddenly the old woman stirred.

She lifted her head, and without turning toward me, spoke in a dry, rasping voice, «Stop crying. Tears won’t help your troubles.» I jumped and stared at her.

«Husband dumped you?» the old woman asked indifferently. I only managed a choked sob in reply. «I see,» she nodded.

«They’re all the same. First, they’re your rock and protection, and then it’s a knife in the back.» She paused, tapping the concrete floor with the tip of a thin cane I hadn’t noticed before.

«Want to make him regret it today?» I looked at her incredulously. What could this poor, blind old woman offer?

«How?» The woman slowly turned her head in my direction. The lenses of her glasses were completely black.

«My personal driver is coming for me now. Pretend you’re my granddaughter. You’ll get in the car and we’ll leave, and your husband will regret leaving you next to the wealthiest woman in this city.»

My breath hitched. It sounded like nonsense. «What wealthy woman? What granddaughter?»

The old woman seemed to read my mind. «You have a choice. You can sit here and wait for the night, or you can get into a warm car and change your life. Decide.»

At that very moment, a long, black luxury sedan appeared around the bend. It moved slowly, silently, like a predator. The car gently braked right at the shelter.

I recognized the make and couldn’t believe my eyes. I’d only seen cars like that in movies about tycoons. A man in a sharp suit and gloves got out.

He walked around the car and opened the rear door. «Ms. Vance, we are ready to depart,» he said with the deepest respect. «Ms. Vance,» the old woman, she slowly rose, leaning on her cane.

«Darius, wait. My granddaughter is riding with us today.» The driver, without a flicker of surprise, simply nodded and looked at me.

His gaze was completely neutral. He was waiting. I didn’t have time to think.

The fear of the unknown was strong, but the fear of staying here, in the dark, on this cursed road, was stronger. I stood up and, as if in a dream, walked toward the car. The driver held the door for me.

I slid onto the soft leather seat. The interior smelled of expensive leather and something else, subtly calm and authoritative. The old woman sat beside me.

The door closed soundlessly, sealing me off from the wind, the dust, and my former life. The car pulled away so smoothly, I barely felt it. We drove in complete silence.

Fields and small woods sped past the window. I had no idea where I was being taken. I expected to see a luxurious mansion in the city center, but the car turned onto a different road than another, and soon we were in front of a towering solid fence with no windows.

The gates silently parted, and we drove onto the property. It wasn’t just a house, it was a fortress, a massive home of dark brick, surveillance cameras on every corner, a perfectly manicured lawn, and not a single flower. No cozy feeling, only security and functionality.

The driver opened the doors for us. «Ms. Vance, any instructions?» «You’re free, Darius. I’ll call you if I need you.»

We went inside. The interior was as stark and impersonal as the outside. A huge hall, expensive but austere furniture, not a single photograph on the walls.

«Come in,» the old woman said, pointing her cane toward the living room. I walked over and sat on the edge of a stiff sofa. The old woman remained standing in the middle of the room.

She stood motionless for several seconds, and then she did what I absolutely did not expect. She removed the dark sunglasses and looked at me. Her eyes were not blind.

They were incredibly vibrant, sharp, and piercing, intelligent, cold, all-seeing eyes. «My name is Eleanor Vance,» she said in a completely different authoritative voice, «and you, Naomi Sterling, are 38 years old, and you work as an administrator at the steel mill. Your husband’s name is Marcus Sterling. He’s 42. He’s a minor official in the city council aiming for higher office. All correct?»

I was paralyzed. I couldn’t utter a word, only managed a nod. «That’s good.»

Eleanor Vance walked to the bar, poured a glass of water, and held it out to me. «Drink. You’ll need your strength.» I took the glass with trembling hands.

«Where… where do you know all this? And why… why were you pretending?» Eleanor Vance smiled faintly. «In this city, I know everything about everyone who matters, or who thinks they matter, and I was pretending because it’s useful. People aren’t afraid of the blind, and they say things in front of them that they’d never say to someone who can see.»

«I often sit there, observing, listening. Today, I got lucky. I saw an interesting performance.»

She settled into the armchair opposite me. «Your husband is a parasite, a petty, ambitious, and foolish parasite. He took on enormous debt to build a showy house and throw dust in the eyes of important people, and now he decided to get rid of you and your apartment to pay for it. Am I right?»

I nodded again. «The apartment. It was my parents’ apartment. The only thing that was truly mine.»

«I will help you,» Eleanor Vance stated firmly. «I will give you everything you need. Clothing, a phone, the best lawyers. We will get your apartment and your good name back, but it won’t be free.»

«What do you want in return?» I whispered. «You will owe me. You can consider it a favor or a debt. You’ll decide that yourself. When the time comes, I will ask for a favor in return, but for now, you will do exactly what I tell you. Deal?»

I looked into those hard, unblinking eyes. I knew I was making a deal with the devil, but the devil was offering me salvation, while the husband who had sworn to love me had left me to die on the roadside. «Deal,» I said.

Eleanor Vance nodded, satisfied. She seemed not to have doubted my answer for a second. At that moment, something clicked in my mind.

A memory that my brain, frightened and humiliated, had blocked until now. A picture of the last seconds at that bus stop. I remembered Marcus’s car starting, how I watched it drive away, and how, even as I drove off in Eleanor’s black sedan, I had cast one last look back at the spot where I was abandoned, and I saw it.

Marcus’s car hadn’t left. It was parked about a hundred yards farther down the road, hidden just around the curve. He hadn’t just driven away.

He had stopped. He was watching. He was observing me, making sure I was left alone, helpless, and in complete despair.

He hadn’t just wanted to abandon me. He wanted to savor my humiliation to the last drop. Only when another car arrived and picked me up did he finally leave.

A cold horror, far stronger than despair, pierced me. This hadn’t been an argument. It hadn’t been an impulsive act.

This was a planned, cold-blooded, cruel performance, where I was assigned the role of the victim, and he, the audience. The realization burned inside me, displacing the tears and confusion. In their place came a cold, wringing rage.

The glass in my hand trembled, and a few drops of water fell onto the expensive upholstery. I didn’t even notice. My entire being was focused on one single thought.

He didn’t just abandon me. He enjoyed my suffering. Eleanor Vance watched the change in my expression with undisguised approval.

«That’s better,» she said, and there was something akin to satisfaction in her voice. «Hatred is much better fuel than self-pity. You can travel far on it.»

She pressed a button on a small remote control lying on the table. A minute later, a woman in a severe gray dress, looking like a housekeeper from an old film, silently entered the room. «Estelle, show Naomi to the guest room. Let her take a shower. Prepare clothing, undergarments, everything she needs. Size 10, I believe. And bring us dinner here, to the living room. Something simple.»

Estelle nodded, didn’t even glance at me, and said, «Follow me, please.» I silently got up and followed her. The guest room was as large and impersonal as the rest of the house.

In the bathroom, on the snow-white shelves, were new unopened bottles of shampoo and shower gel. A new toothbrush lay ready. On the bed, clothing was neatly laid out.

Dark trousers, a neutral beige cashmere sweater, a set of undergarments. Everything was expensive, high-quality, and utterly devoid of individuality, like a uniform. After showering and changing, I felt a little better.

The warm water washed away some of the shock, and the clean clothes gave me a fragile sense of control. When I returned to the living room, dinner was already set on the table. Roasted chicken, salad, sliced bread, and two more people.

One was Darius, the driver. He stood by the wall, hands clasped behind his back, motionless as a statue. The second man, about 50 years old, in a flawless suit and thin-rimmed glasses, sat in an armchair.

He had the face of a man who never smiled. «Naomi, sit down. Eat something,» Eleanor Vance said.

«This is Mr. Josiah Wells, my lawyer. He will be handling your affairs.» The lawyer adjusted his glasses and looked at me with dry, indifferent eyes.

«Naomi Sterling, based on preliminary information, your husband committed an act that could be qualified as abandonment in a dangerous situation. However, proving malicious intent will be virtually impossible. He will claim you argued, you exited the car voluntarily, and he drove off while distraught.»

«There are no witnesses, so forget that. That was merely the prelude.» His words were precise and cold, like scalpel cuts.

«The priority now is your property, specifically the apartment you inherited from your parents. This is your personal property, not subject to division in a divorce. He has no rights to it, but the fact that he took a step like today suggests he is ready to act unconventionally.»

«What should I do?» I asked quietly. Eleanor Vance interjected again. She picked up a new, still-boxed smartphone from the table.

«This is your new phone. The number is clean, unregistered anywhere. Communication only through this. Consider your old number lost. It has only two numbers saved, Mr. Wells’s and mine. You don’t need anyone else.»

She paused. «Now go home.» I looked up at her, surprised.

«Why?» «To see what he has truly done,» Eleanor replied. «You think he just threw you out on the highway? That was only the beginning. You must see everything with your own eyes. Feel it. Understand who you are dealing with.»

«Darius will take you.» A sense of strength, mixed with fear, filled me again. With such support, I felt almost invulnerable.

I had the best lawyer. I had a patroness, who clearly the entire city feared. Marcus was just a small-time official.

What could he possibly do? Darius drove as smoothly and silently as the first time. We entered the city, which was already sinking into evening twilight.

Familiar streets, houses, shops, and then our block. My heart pounded faster. «I’ll wait here,» Darius said unemotionally, as I got out of the car.

I nodded and walked toward the entrance. My hands were shaking a little. I imagined opening the door with my key, and him sitting in the living room, confident that I was wandering somewhere on a dark highway.

I imagined his face when he saw me on the threshold, strong, calm, ready for war. I went up to my third-floor apartment. There it was, the familiar leather-clad door.

I took my set of keys from the pocket of the jacket I’d left in the car that morning. I put the key into the keyhole, and it wouldn’t turn. I froze, tried again.

The key only went in halfway and hit something. I pulled it out, looked at it as if the key were to blame, then inserted it again. Same result.

The panic I had so carefully suppressed began to rise from the depths of my soul. I tried the second key for the bottom lock. The same thing.

The locks were new. He had changed the locks. I recoiled from the door as if struck.

This couldn’t be. This was my apartment. The apartment where I grew up, where it smelled like my mother’s pie and my father’s books.

He couldn’t. He had no right. I hit the door hard, several times with my fist.

«Marcus, open up. I know you’re in there. Open this door now.»

Silence. Not a sound. Not a whisper.

Only a curious neighbor peered out from the landing above, but seeing me, she quickly disappeared behind her door. My hands instinctively reached for the new phone. I found Mr. Wells’s number.

The lawyer answered instantly, as if he had been waiting. «Yes, Mr. Wells. It’s Naomi. He changed the locks. I can’t get into my own apartment.»

«I expected this,» he replied calmly. «Call the sheriff’s department. Tell them that unknown individuals changed the locks on your apartment, and you cannot get home. Not a word about your husband. Just unknown individuals. Wait for them. I am on my way.»

Calling the police seemed so absurd. Calling the police just to get into my own home. I dialed 911 and explained the situation to the dispatcher with a trembling voice.

They promised a squad car would arrive. The wait was agonizing. I sat on the steps, huddled, staring at my door, which had suddenly become alien and hostile.

After 20 minutes, two officers appeared on the landing. A young deputy with a tired face and his older partner. «You called?» The deputy asked lazily. «What’s the situation?»

I stood up and tried to explain. «This is my apartment. I came home and my keys don’t work. The locks have been changed.»

«Do you have the documents for the apartment? Your ID?» The older officer asked. «Everything’s inside,» I replied helplessly. «I left this morning without my purse.»

The deputy scoffed skeptically. «I see. Well, we can’t legally break down the door. Maybe you sold it? Or maybe relatives live here?»

Just then, the entrance door downstairs slammed and fast footsteps sounded on the stairs. Marcus appeared on the landing, but he wasn’t alone. Walking beside him, holding his arm, was a young, beautiful woman in an elegant business suit.

Tiffany Chambers, the district attorney’s daughter. I knew her from the city events I sometimes attended with my husband. Marcus looked calm and confident.

He even feigned concern on his face. «Naomi, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why aren’t you answering your phone?»

He addressed me, but his eyes were on the officers. «Gentlemen, is something wrong? This is my wife. She’s going through a difficult period. A bit unstable.»

Tiffany stood silently beside him, eyeing me with contempt. And then I saw it. Around Tiffany’s neck was a thin gold chain with a small, irregularly shaped pearl.

It was my mother’s pendant, the one valuable piece of jewelry I kept in a box in the bedroom. Tiffany, catching my eye, casually touched the pearl with her fingers. A slight, triumphant smile touched the corners of her lips.

«Your wife claims she can’t get into the apartment,» the deputy said, and his tone had already changed. He was looking at the respectable, confident man, not the disheveled woman without documents. «Ah, that.» Marcus sighed sympathetically. «Yes, I was forced to change the locks. For her own safety and ours.»

«We’re divorcing. Naomi has been having episodes of aggression lately.» He took a few papers from a folder and handed them to the police.

«This is a copy of the divorce petition. And this, this is a restraining order. She’s forbidden to approach me or this apartment. Her doctor strongly recommended it.»

I stared at him, my vision darkening. Divorce, restraining order, doctor. What lies? What monstrous, calculated lies?

«That’s not true,» I screamed. «He’s lying about everything. This is my apartment.»

«Calm down, ma’am,» the deputy said sternly, examining the papers. «This is all official. It has a seal.»

At that moment, Mr. Wells came up to the landing. He nodded silently to me and addressed the officers. «I am Naomi Sterling’s attorney. What is happening here?»

Marcus scanned him with an appraising look. «And who might you be?» «My client cannot access her own property. According to the documents, the apartment belongs to her by right of inheritance.»

«It was her property,» Marcus corrected calmly. His eyes gleamed. He had been waiting for this moment.

He was relishing it. The older officer, having finished reading the last paper, looked up and glanced at me with ill-concealed pity. «Ma’am, I’m afraid you no longer have rights to this apartment. According to this document, filed with the county recorder’s office, you are no longer the owner.»

Mr. Wells frowned. «What document? Show me.» Marcus, with the same mocking smile, handed him another sheet.

The lawyer quickly skimmed it. His face became impenetrable for the first time. He silently passed the paper to me.

It was a purchase and sale agreement, dated two weeks prior. It stated that I, Naomi Ann Sterling, had sold my three-bedroom apartment in the city center to my husband, Marcus David Sterling, for a symbolic sum of $25,000, and at the bottom, beneath the text, was my signature. Clear, neat, identical to my actual signature, down to the last flourish, perfect and absolutely 100% fake.

I looked at the paper, and only one thought was in my head. This can’t be. This simply cannot be.

I would never sell my apartment, never, not for any amount of money. «This, this is forgery,» I whispered, unable to tear my gaze from the fake signature. Mr. Wells took the contract from me and examined it closely.

«Yes, it’s obvious,» he said without lifting his head. «The signature is very skillfully done, but there are signs indicating it’s not the original.» Marcus sneered. «Don’t make me laugh, Counselor. All my documents are in order, notarized. If your client had a change of heart, that’s her problem.»

«This contract has no legal force,» Mr. Wells stated firmly. «We will file a police report for document forgery and fraud, and I am confident that an expert analysis will confirm we are right.» «Go ahead and file,» Marcus shrugged. «That’s your right. I just fear that by then your client will have nowhere to live, or anything else.»

«By the way, gentlemen,» he turned back to the deputy. «I’d like to add another point to my statement. I suspect my wife stole a large sum of money from the apartment and is hiding from me.»

I gasped. «What are you talking about? What money?» «Don’t pretend, Naomi,» Marcus cooed sweetly. «You know exactly what I’m talking about. You took all my savings, every last penny, and now you’re trying to run away.»

«That’s a lie,» I screamed. «I didn’t take anything.» The officers exchanged glances.

The situation was getting more and more complicated. A domestic dispute, divorce, an apartment, money. They clearly didn’t want to get involved.

«All right, folks,» the deputy said. «We need to file a report. Let’s go down to the precinct and sort this out.»

«I’ll go with you,» Mr. Wells declared. Marcus nodded to Tiffany. She took keys from her purse and opened the apartment door.

«Excuse me, officers, but I must leave. I have an important meeting. Marcus, call me.»

She shot me a look of contempt and disappeared into the apartment, leaving the door ajar. Marcus watched her go and turned to me with a triumphant smile. «Well, Naomi, is this where you land? Left without an apartment, without money, and now you’ll be branded a thief. Who will believe you? I have everything tied up. You’re nobody.»

I looked at him and saw nothing but pure hatred. He had turned into a monster, a malicious, vengeful, and utterly unprincipled monster. And I suddenly realized I had lost.

He had outmaneuvered me. He had destroyed me. The officers led Mr. Wells and me toward the squad car.

I walked as if in a fog, feeling neither the ground beneath my feet, nor the cold, nor the shame, only emptiness. We spent several hours at the precinct, filing a report, questioning, explaining. It was all useless.

The police were clearly siding with Marcus. They asked me leading questions, pressured me, tried to confuse me. Mr. Wells tried to object, but they wouldn’t listen to his arguments.

Finally, in the early morning, they let us go. I left the precinct completely shattered and drained. Mr. Wells silently led me to his car.

«I’ll take you back to Ms. Vance,» he said. We drove the whole way in silence. I stared out the window, seeing nothing but my defeat.

I had nowhere to go. I had no money. I was homeless.

And what was worse, I was powerless. Marcus had stolen everything from me, even my identity. At Eleanor Vance’s house, I was met with reserve.

Estelle showed me to my room and silently brought me breakfast. Eleanor Vance summoned me only after lunch. She sat in her armchair like a queen on a throne.

There was neither sympathy nor regret in her eyes, only a cold, assessing gaze. «Well, Naomi,» she asked, «did you finish playing the victim? I gave you every opportunity to fight, and what did you do? You allowed yourself to be destroyed.»

I said nothing. I didn’t know what to say. «Do you understand that you are now nobody?» Eleanor Vance continued.

«Homeless, jobless, with a ruined reputation. Your husband did everything to destroy you, and I must admit, he succeeded.» «What should I do?» I asked quietly.

«What should you do?» Eleanor Vance sneered contemptuously. «Sue. File a claim in court. Prove that the purchase and sale agreement is fake. Demand an expert analysis. Hire detectives.»

«It’s long, expensive, and most likely useless. Your husband has everything locked down. You’ll waste a year of your life and a heap of money, and in the end, you’ll accomplish nothing.»

«But what should I do then?» I cried out in desperation. «Fight,» Eleanor Vance cut in. «But not in court. All’s fair in love and war. Reputation is the most valuable thing you have left, and it can be used.»

«Marcus wants everyone to think you’re an alcoholic and a thief. Fine. We will make sure everyone sees who he really is.»

«How? Publicly? He’s playing politics. He wants to be a respected man.»

«Then we will attack his reputation. We will make his name synonymous with corruption and deception.» «But how can we do that? He has everything locked down. No one will believe me.»

«Belief is irrelevant,» Eleanor Vance replied. «What matters is that people talk about it. What matters is that his name is on everyone’s lips. What matters is creating a public outcry so massive that even his patrons can’t protect him.»

She paused, looking at me with her piercing eyes. «Tomorrow, there’s a charity gala downtown. All the city’s elite will be there. Politicians, businessmen, officials. And your husband is giving a speech. That’s your chance.»

«What do I need to do?» «You need to go there,» Eleanor Vance replied, «and ask him just one question. Publicly, in front of everyone. And that question must be one he cannot answer.»

«What question?» «You’ll find out,» Eleanor Vance smiled. «Now go get ready. Estelle will give you a dress. You must look flawless. You must show everyone that you are not broken. You must be a queen.»

I left Eleanor Vance’s study with a sense of vague unease. I didn’t know what awaited me. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.

But I knew one thing. I would no longer be a victim. I would fight.

Estelle did bring me dresses. Evening wear. Elegant, perfectly fitted.

She also did my hair and makeup. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself. Before me stood a different woman.

Strong, confident, ready for battle. Darius drove me to the building where the gala was taking place. People in evening attire were milling around the entrance.

Music played and camera flashes popped. I got out of the car and, head held high, walked toward the doors. I felt as if I were walking a tightrope, aware of the gazes of hundreds of eyes.

People recognized me, whispered, and looked back. But no one dared to approach. I entered the hall and froze.

The luxurious decorations, the crystal chandeliers, the exquisite appetizers. It all seemed like a backdrop from someone else’s life. I saw Marcus.

He was standing on the stage, surrounded by important officials and businessmen, speaking into a microphone. His face shone with smug self-satisfaction. I began to make my way toward the stage.

People parted before me as if I were a ghost. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I had to do this.

I had to ask that question. Marcus finished his speech and the hall erupted in applause. He came down from the stage and headed toward the exit.

This was my chance. I intercepted him right at the door. «Marcus,» I said loudly.

He flinched and turned around. Seeing me, he was speechless for a moment. His face twisted with fury.

«What are you doing here? How did you get in?» «Tell me, Marcus,» I said calmly, looking him straight in the eyes. «Where did you get the right to sell my mother’s apartment?»

Silence fell over the hall. All eyes were fixed on us. Marcus went pale.

He tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat. And then, as if from nowhere, Tiffany stepped between us. She grabbed Marcus’s arm and pulled him aside.

«Don’t pay attention to her,» Tiffany said loudly, addressing the crowd. «She’s drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She has a mental disorder.»

She pulled her phone from her clutch. «See for yourselves.» She pressed a button, and the sound came from the phone’s speaker.

The sound of a drunken, slurring voice. My voice. An image appeared on the phone screen.

I saw myself. I was sitting at a table at some party. I was drunk.

I was laughing, mumbling something, and incoherently singing some song. The video had been filmed a few weeks earlier at my nephew’s birthday party. I remembered that evening.

I had too much wine, but I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was just having fun. Tiffany stopped the recording.

«See,» she said, looking at the crowd. «She doesn’t even remember what happened last night. What makes you think she knows anything about paperwork?»

A silence fell over the hall. But this was a different silence. Not tense and expectant, but sympathetic and judgmental.

Someone chuckled. Someone else snorted contemptuously. Someone shook their head.

I felt my face burn with shame. I wasn’t just embarrassed. I was humiliated.

I had been made a laughingstock, trampled into the dirt. Tiffany smiled triumphantly. «You see what she’s really like? A miserable, drunken woman who is trying to ruin the life of a successful man. Don’t believe her. She’s lying.»

The crowd began to disperse. People turned away from me as if I were a leper. No one wanted anything to do with me.

I stood alone in the middle of the hall, humiliated, disgraced, and crushed. My attempt to fight had turned into a complete failure. Marcus and Tiffany had won.

They had destroyed me completely and irrevocably. I didn’t remember how I left the hall. The snickers and whispers merged into a single buzzing swarm that followed me to the exit.

I stood on the cold porch, hugging myself, watching the cars drive by. I wanted to disappear, to dissolve, to sink into the ground. At that moment, the familiar black sedan stopped silently beside me.

Darius got out, opened the back door, and simply looked at me. No words, no questions. He just waited.

I silently got into the car. We drove the whole way to Eleanor Vance’s estate in complete silence. I stared out the window at the city lights but only saw my reflection in the glass, a woman in an expensive dress with smeared makeup and empty eyes.

Eleanor’s plan had failed. No, I had failed it. I was a victim again, only this time a public one.

The next morning brought new blows. First, my boss from the plant, Mr. Thompson, called me. His voice was dry and official.

«Naomi Sterling, good morning. Due to the current situation and the public scandal that could damage our company’s reputation, management has made a decision. You are on indefinite suspension without pay.»

«But Mr. Thompson, that’s not true.» I tried to object. «It’s all slander.»

«I don’t know.» He cut me off. «And I don’t want to know. We run a serious business, not a place for family disputes. The documents will be sent to you by courier. Goodbye.»

The line went dead. I was fired, politely, legally, but it was a termination. I tried to call my only close friend who worked in the same department as me.

The phone rang, but no one picked up. An hour later, a short text arrived. «Naomi, sorry, can’t talk right now. And please don’t call me again. I have a family and kids, and I don’t need problems.»

I had become a pariah. Marcus and Tiffany had turned me into a social outcast overnight. Eleanor Vance summoned me only that evening.

She was furious, but her anger was not directed at Marcus. «You’re weak,» she spat out as soon as I crossed the threshold of her study. «I put a weapon in your hands, and you let him knock it out of your grasp and use that same weapon to beat you. You stepped into the ring and gave up after the first punch.»

«But what could I do?» I whispered. «She showed that video.» «You should have been ready for it,» Eleanor interrupted.

«Didn’t you know your husband? Didn’t you know what kind of treachery he was capable of? The lawsuit for signature forgery is now an empty threat.»

«Mr. Wells has already found out everything. The experts in our city are bought. They will conclude that the signature is genuine.»

«They’ll say you signed the contract while in an incapacitated state and now simply don’t remember it. That video is the perfect confirmation. The case will be closed before it even opens.»

«You lost.» Eleanor’s words were ruthless, but fair. I sank into the chair, feeling completely powerless.

All paths were blocked. The court, the police, public opinion, everything was on Marcus’ side. «So, this is the end?» I asked hollowly.

«For the weak, yes,» Eleanor replied coldly. «For those who fight, no, think. There must be something he didn’t account for.»

«Some small detail, some document that he couldn’t fake. Something that will prove your undeniable right to that apartment.» I closed my eyes, trying to focus.

I went through everything related to the apartment in my memory. And suddenly, an image flashed into my mind. The old blue folder.

My father kept all the most important documents in it. Birth certificates, diplomas, and yes, the original privatization agreement for the apartment and the certificate of inheritance. The originals, with live signatures, seals, and watermarks.

Marcus couldn’t fake those documents. «I have it,» I said, opening my eyes. «The originals, the genuine contract and the certificate of inheritance.»

«With those, any lawyer can prove the purchase and sale agreement is a sham.» «Where are they?» Eleanor asked immediately. «At our old family cabin in Willow Creek. My father always kept the most important papers there. He didn’t trust city apartments. He said they were easier to steal from there.»

«Good,» Eleanor nodded. «This is a chance, but we must act quickly and quietly. No one must know you’re going there, especially your husband.»

That very night, I set out. Darius drove me to the outskirts of the settlement and dropped me off. «You have two hours,» he said. «Then I will be waiting in this exact spot. If you don’t show, I leave. Eleanor Vance does not like it when her people get caught doing stupid things.»

I nodded. I walked through the dark, deserted streets of the old vacation community. Our cabin stood right on the edge of the woods.

A small, rickety house where I spent my whole childhood. There was no electricity or running water here. Marcus hated the place and called it a shack.

We hadn’t been here in several years. The tall fence my father had built was leaning. The gate was secured with a rusted lock.

I had to climb over the fence, scraping my arm painfully. But I ignored it. The fear of being caught spurred me on.

The house door was also locked. I went around the house, checking the windows. One that faced the garden gave way.

The old frame groaned but opened. I struggled to climb inside, inhaling the stale, dusty air. I turned on the flashlight on the phone Eleanor had given me.

The beam illuminated the painfully familiar setting. The old sofa covered with a faded blanket, the bookshelf, the round table. My heart ached with nostalgia.

The folder should be in my father’s study, in the bottom drawer of his desk. I walked into the small room. Everything was in its place.

I pulled out the heavy drawer. Inside, under a stack of old newspapers, lay the very thing. The blue folder.

With hands trembling from excitement, I opened it. Everything was there. The certificate of inheritance.

The privatization agreement. All with genuine seals and the signatures of my parents. I had won.

With these documents, Marcus was a fraudster. I was about to leave when, standing up, I awkwardly stumbled. My foot landed on a floorboard that gave a strange crunch and shifted out of place.

I froze. I shined the flashlight down. The floorboard was indeed unsecured.

I had never noticed it before. Curiosity won out. I dug my fingernails under the board and managed to lift it with effort.

Beneath it was a small indentation. A hiding place. And in the hiding place, a small, fireproof safe the size of a shoebox.

I didn’t know what to think. My father had never mentioned a safe. Maybe some old family valuables were inside.

The combination lock was simple. Four digits. I tried the year of my birth.

Click. My father’s birth year. Click.

My mother’s birth year. Click. Nothing.

Then I tried the year of their wedding. 1975. The safe opened.

I shined the light inside, expecting to see money or old jewelry. But inside? There was no money.

No gold. Inside lay two neat stacks of papers and two foreign passports. I picked up the passports.

One photo was Marcus. The other was Tiffany. The passports were new, issued just a month ago.

They were planning to run away. A chill ran down my spine. I put the passports aside and took the top stack of papers.

They were some kind of permits, licenses, technical plans. I didn’t really understand them, but the forms bore the seals of the City Architectural Commission, the documents related to the construction of a new shopping complex on the city outskirts, the very project Marcus was obsessed with. And then I got to the last sheet.

It was the main permit for the start of construction, and in the field for the responsible person, approving the project on behalf of the steel mill supplier, was a signature. I looked closely and went cold. It was my signature, or rather, my digital copy, the one I used at work for the electronic document system.

And the signature was certified with the seal of my department. The blood drained from my face and the papers shook in my hands. This was not just an escape plan.

This was a monstrous, devilish setup. Marcus wasn’t just stealing my apartment to pay off debts. He was pinning a massive, multimillion-dollar fraud scheme involving municipal land and construction contracts on me.

If this scam were exposed, all the threads would lead to me, to my signature on the main document. He would get the money, leave the country with his mistress, and I would be sent to prison for long years. Panic overwhelmed me.

This was scarier than losing the apartment. It was scarier than public humiliation. This was a threat to my freedom, my life.

I frantically grabbed the phone. I had to call someone, but who? Eleanor? To tell her I had stumbled into a situation even dirtier than before?

The police wouldn’t even listen. Only one name was in my head. The only relative who, it seemed, was still on my side.

The only one I could trust unconditionally. My fingers, disobedient, dialed the number. «Hello?» A sleepy voice answered the phone.

«Tia,» I whispered, choking with terror. «Tia, it’s me. I need help, immediately.»

A few seconds of silence hung on the other end, broken only by Tia’s sleepy breathing. «Naomi, my god, where are you? What happened? Your voice!»

«Tia, listen to me carefully,» I whispered, glancing at the dark windows of the old cabin as if someone might be listening. «I don’t have time to explain everything over the phone. We need to meet right now. It’s a matter of life and death.»

«What? What are you saying? Marcus said you… you left? That you had problems?» Confusion was audible in my sister’s voice.

«Marcus is lying,» I interrupted her, and steel rang in my voice. «He’s lying about everything. Tia, he set me up. He wants to send me to jail. Please meet me, tell no one, not mom, not friends, and especially not him.»

I heard my sister take a fearful breath. «Okay, of course. Where? In one hour?»

«At the all-night diner on Central Avenue. You know the one? It’s small. No one will be there now.» «Yes, I know it. I’ll be there. Naomi, hang in there.»

I hung up and slipped the phone into my pocket, grabbing the blue folder with the apartment documents and the second, terrifying stack of fraud papers. I climbed out the window, scrambled over the fence somehow, and almost ran to the spot where Darius was supposed to be waiting for me. We met in the semi-empty diner, which smelled of coffee and baked goods.

Tia was already sitting at the farthest table, fearfully watching the door. Seeing me, she jumped up. «Naomi, what’s wrong with you? You look awful.»

I sank into a chair and put both folders on the table. My hands were shaking. «Tia, I don’t have much time.»

I pushed the blue folder toward her. «These are the originals for the apartment. With these, I can prove the sale agreement is fake.»

Tia sighed with relief. «Thank goodness. Well, then, everything will be resolved. Let’s go to the lawyer.»

«No!» I cut her off. I opened the second folder and spread the sheets with the fake permits on the table. «This is the main problem. Look here.»

Tia leaned over the documents. She stared at the blueprints and seals for a long time, not understanding. «What is this?»

«It’s a scam, a major construction fraud, and this…» I poked my finger at the last page. «My digital signature. He stole it from my job. He pinned all of this on me.»

«He stole the apartment to get the money for his escape, and I’ll be left here to take the fall for everything. These are their foreign passports. They were getting ready.»

Tia looked at the signature, then at the passports, and her face slowly went white. She raised her eyes to mine, filled with horror. «Oh, my God, Naomi, but how? Why? He’s not… he’s not a monster.»

«He is a monster, Tia. A major one,» I answered hollowly. «And now I don’t know what to do.»

«If I give the apartment documents to the lawyers, he will immediately use this. I’ll be arrested the same day. I’m trapped.»

Tia sat silently, holding her head in her hands. It was clear she was thinking intensely. Suddenly, she looked up.

«There’s one person. My college classmate, remember I told you about him? Andrew. He’s a really good lawyer now.»

«Works in New York, runs his own firm. He’s not connected to our city, our prosecutors, or our judges. He doesn’t owe anyone here anything, and he owes me. I helped him out a lot with a case once.»

I looked at her hopefully. «Do you think he’ll help?» «I’m sure of it,» Tia whispered excitedly.

«Listen, here’s what we’ll do. You must not be seen with these papers. They are too dangerous.»

«Give them to me. I’ll call Andrew today. Explain everything to him.»

«Tomorrow morning, I’ll take the first train and deliver everything to him personally. He’ll start working right away, find connections to federal structures. They’ll put pressure on our local guys, and they won’t dare peep.»

«And while the documents are with him completely safe, Marcus won’t be able to get to them.» The plan seemed reasonable. Giving the documents to an independent lawyer who wasn’t connected to the city’s corruption network was the only right move.

And who could I trust with this more than my own sister? «Are you sure, Tia? Isn’t this dangerous for you?» «Don’t be ridiculous.»

Tia wiped a tear from her cheek. «You’re my sister. I won’t let that jerk destroy you. Give me everything.»

She quickly gathered all the dangerous documents into her large tote bag. She returned the blue folder with the apartment documents to me. «Keep this with you for now. Hold on to it. When Andrew gives the green light, then you use it.»

«The main thing now is to hide the evidence. Okay, go. I’ll call you as soon as I’m in New York.»

I felt an enormous, almost unbearable relief. A mountain had been lifted from my shoulders. For the first time in those awful days, I had real hope.

I hugged my sister tightly. «Thank you, Tia. Thank you, I owe you.»

«Everything will be fine,» Tia whispered, hugging me back. «We’ll handle this.» Returning to Eleanor’s estate, I was able to fall asleep for the first time in a long time.

I hid the folder with the apartment documents under the mattress and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. It felt as if the nightmare had finally begun to recede. I woke up to a sharp, demanding knock on the door, not the door to my room, but the front door of the house.

It was still early morning. I heard Estelle quickly walk down the hall. Then, low male voices sounded.

My heart pounded anxiously. I put on a robe and went out into the hallway. Three men were standing in the hall, two in police uniform and one in plain clothes with a stern, determined face.

Eleanor Vance was already there, in her usual severe robe, staring coldly at the uninvited guests. «What is the meaning of this?» she asked. The man in plain clothes showed an ID.

«Detective Major Hayes, Federal Anti-Corruption Task Force. We have a warrant to search this house and a warrant for the arrest of citizen Naomi Ann Sterling.» «On what grounds?» Eleanor inquired in an icy tone.

«On the grounds of an active criminal investigation into grand fraud and document forgery,» the detective replied and looked directly at me, frozen in the doorway of my room. «Naomi Sterling, you are under arrest.» Two officers stepped toward me.

One of them twisted my arms behind my back and snapped on the handcuffs. The cold metal burned my wrists. Everything happened as if in slow motion.

«We also have precise information on the location of the documents we are interested in,» the major continued. «They’re here.» He nodded to his men and they, ignoring Eleanor, headed straight for the guest room.

A minute later, one of them came out, holding the blue folder, the very one with the apartment originals. «But how? What does this mean?» Eleanor asked the detective.

«It means,» he replied with a smirk, «that your guest is not so simple. Not only does she sign phony permits for multi-million dollar construction projects, but she also keeps the original documents for the apartment she supposedly sold on her person, preparing to blackmail her estranged husband, no doubt. It all adds up.»

I was led toward the exit. Humiliation, fear, and complete incomprehension mixed into a bitter knot in my throat. As I was being led out of the house, Major Hayes pulled out his phone and called someone.

«Yes, everything is in order. We have her. The subject and the documents are secured, thanks to our anonymous informant for the precise location. Very valuable information.»

I was put into the police car. As the door slammed shut, I cast one last desperate glance at the porch and froze. Detective Hayes walked out from around the corner of the house.

He slowly approached a black sedan parked a little distance away. A man was waiting for him by the car. Young, well-dressed, in an expensive suit.

The lawyer from New York. Tia’s friend. But he did not look like a man who had come to save his friend’s sister.

He stood, smiling confidently. The detective approached him and shook his hand firmly. Then he said something, and both men laughed.

The friend nodded gratefully and pointed toward the house, toward the window I had just been led from. He was thanking the police and pointing at me, and in that moment, I understood everything. The entire terrible picture came together in my head.

There was no lawyer friend. There was no rescue plan. Tia hadn’t gone to New York.

She hadn’t called her friend. She had called Marcus. She gave him everything.

She told him where I was hiding the last evidence of my innocence. She sold me out. My own sister.

Why? The car started moving. I looked at the receding figure of the lawyer, at Eleanor’s house, and nothing was left in my soul but a scorched, icy wasteland.

This wasn’t a setup. It was betrayal. The most terrible, most vile betrayal a person is capable of.

The car sped through the morning streets, but I saw nothing but the emptiness ahead. My sister’s betrayal was a blow from which I could not recover. It was worse than Marcus’s cruelty.

It was the absolute, total destruction of everything I believed in. My family. My anchor.

My last hope. It was all a lie. Tia didn’t just help Marcus.

She became his weapon. She led him to the trail. She handed him the bullets.

She helped him pull the trigger. The interrogation at the Federal Task Force was long and humiliating. Detective Hayes acted as if my guilt was already proven.

He showed me the forged documents, poking his finger at my digital signature. «Confess, Sterling. It will be better for everyone.»

«Tell us how you conspired with unidentified persons to organize this fraud scheme. Who were your accomplices at the plant? Who helped you gain access to the seals?»

I stayed silent. What could I say? Any word would be useless.

They had already written the script, and my role in it was the criminal. The evidence was irrefutable. Here were the documents with my signature.

Here were the originals for the apartment that I was allegedly hiding for blackmail. Everything looked logical and convincing. Marcus and Tia had thought of every detail.

Two days later, I was released. Unexpectedly. The desk sergeant came into the holding cell and said, «Sterling, you’re free to go. Bail has been posted for you.»

I walked out of the detention center, squinting in the daylight. Mr. Wells was waiting for me at the gate. He looked even gloomier than usual.

«Eleanor Vance posted the bail,» he reported curtly, opening the car door. «Get in.» On the way to the now familiar Fortress Estate, he brought me up to speed.

«The case is bad. Very bad. The charges are serious.»

«They have the documents your sister gave them. She is the prosecution’s main witness. She will testify that you personally gave her those papers, that you were in a panic and asked her to hide them.»

«Naturally, as a law-abiding citizen, she immediately reported it to the police.» «But that’s a lie!» I exclaimed. «A lie supported by evidence is called a fact in court,» the lawyer cut in.

«Your signature is on the documents. The motive, according to their version, is revenge on your husband and a desire for unjust enrichment. The case is almost 100% winnable for them.»

«You are facing up to 10 years.» 10 years. The number echoed hollowly in my head.

10 years in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. Eleanor Vance met me in the living room. She wasn’t yelling.

She was calm. And that was scarier than any fury. «Stop crying,» she said, when I broke down in sobs, unable to hold it together.

«Tears won’t help the case. You wanted to trust your sister? You got the result.»

«Now stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s time to start thinking.» She waited until I calmed down a little.

«Court is no longer an option. We will lose. We need to approach this from another angle.»

«Your husband orchestrated this scam because he desperately needed money. A lot of money. Not just for his escape.»

«He owes someone, and that debt is burning his feet. We need to find out who he owes and what for. We need to find that single thread we can pull to unravel the whole mess.»

«But how can we do that?» I asked helplessly. «You can’t do it,» Eleanor replied. «But I know a person who can.»

She took a notebook from the desk drawer, tore out a sheet, and wrote a name and phone number on it. «His name is Leonard Price. He used to be the best investigative journalist in the city.»

«He dug up several high-profile cases. A couple of years ago, he started digging into your husband. Marcus was just starting his career in the city council back then and was already involved in some land parcel schemes.»

«Leonard almost finished the job, but he was stopped by Tiffany Chambers and her father, District Attorney Chambers. He was fired with a bad recommendation, accused of publishing libel. Since then, he’s been scraping by with small jobs, writing ad copy for brochures.»

«He hates your husband with a burning passion, and he loves money. Call him. Tell him I sent you.»

Leonard Leo Price set the meeting in an old, dimly lit bar on the city outskirts. He turned out to be a man in his 50s with tired but very intelligent eyes, wearing a worn tweed jacket. He smelled of tobacco and disappointment.

He listened to me silently, without interruption. When I finished, he looked at me for a long time and then said, «I know this story. The beginning of it, anyway.»

«I knew Marcus was a thief, but I didn’t think he was capable of this. And your sister? Wow, what a family!»

«Will you help?» I asked hopefully. «Eleanor Vance pays well.» He smiled crookedly.

«And I have a loan for my daughter’s college tuition, so yes, I’ll help.» «Where do we start?» «With the money,» I replied. «We need to understand why he needed such an enormous sum so quickly.»

The next few days were spent working. Leo, using his old connections, dug up all of Marcus’s financial secrets. We sat for hours in his tiny, smoke-filled apartment, littered with old newspapers, examining bank statements, credit histories, and transaction records.

The picture that emerged was grim. The lake house was just the tip of the iceberg. Marcus had lived beyond his means.

Expensive watches, suits, trips to resorts, gifts for Tiffany, all bought on credit. The total amount of debt to the banks was colossal, but even that didn’t explain the urgency and the extreme risk he took. «There’s something else here,» Leo said, peering at another statement.

«Look, besides the official loan payments, there are regular transfers of large sums to the same account on the same date every month. And this account is anonymous, registered to a shell company. This isn’t a loan. This is blackmail.»

«Blackmail,» I repeated. «Who could be blackmailing him?» «Someone who knows something about him that could destroy his career and life even faster than his debts,» Leo mused.

«Something worse than theft. We need to find the owner of this account. But that’s almost impossible.»

We hit a wall. Leo tried to trace the account through his channels, but without success. All traces were cut off.

I was in despair. I went over the events of the last few weeks again and again, trying to find some kind of clue. And suddenly, I remembered a tiny, insignificant detail that I had barely noticed at the time, the day I was abandoned at the bus stop.

Eleanor’s driver, Darius. When he got out of the car to open the door for me, I smelled his cigarettes. Sharp, spicy, very distinctive.

And I saw the pack he pulled from his pocket, black with some kind of gold crest. I had never seen cigarettes like that before. I told Leo about it.

«It’s probably silly,» I said. «There are no silly details in our business,» he replied. «Any detail can be a key. A black pack with a crest sounds like something rare, high-end.»

The next two days were dedicated to staking out Marcus. We took turns waiting in Leo’s car near the city council building. It was boring and exhausting.

Marcus came to work, left, met with some officials. Nothing suspicious. On the third day, I was on watch.

It was evening, starting to get dark. I was sitting in the car, parked across the street, drinking cold coffee from a paper cup. Suddenly, I saw Marcus leave the building.

He was alone and clearly nervous. He was looking around. A minute later, an inconspicuous man in a gray trench coat approached him.

They talked quickly. Marcus took a thick envelope from his briefcase and handed it to the man. The man shoved the envelope into his pocket without counting and walked away quickly.

«That’s him, the blackmailer.» I grabbed the phone to take a picture of him, but it was already too dark, and he was quickly walking away. I jumped out of the car and rushed after him, trying to keep my distance.

The man in the trench coat walked to the corner, turned into a quiet alley, and stopped next to a parked car. It wasn’t Eleanor’s black limousine, just an ordinary dark sedan. The man got into the passenger seat.

The driver’s side door opened, and someone got out of the car. I hid behind a tree, my heart pounding in my throat. The driver took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one.

In the light of the streetlamp, I saw the pack, black with a gold crest. It was Darius, Eleanor Vance’s driver. He finished his cigarette, tossed the butt, and handed the blackmailer another envelope through the window.

The man took it, and the car immediately drove away. I stood behind the tree, and the ground was sinking beneath my feet. The picture that formed in my head was so monstrous that my mind refused to accept it.

Eleanor, my savior, my patroness, the person who gave me hope. Eleanor wasn’t just helping me. She was the director of this spectacle.

She was pulling the strings on both sides. The blackmailer who had driven Marcus to desperation and forced him into crime worked for her. The driver who, coincidentally, appeared at that bus stop and saved me was her accomplice.

This wasn’t help. It was a game, a big, cruel game in which Marcus was the target. And I, Naomi, was merely a weapon.

A pawn moved across the board to strike the enemy king. Eleanor used me to settle some old scores with Marcus. I stood behind the tree long after both cars had left.

The cold evening air burned my lungs, but I didn’t feel it. Everything inside me was numb. My sister’s betrayal had shattered my faith in family.

Eleanor’s manipulations destroyed my faith in salvation. I was alone, completely alone, surrounded by enemies and puppet masters. Everything that had happened to me wasn’t accidental.

My humiliation, my arrest, my despair. It was all part of someone else’s cruel plan. A rage, pure and cold as ice, filled the emptiness in my soul.

Rage at Marcus, at Tia, and now at Eleanor. I was used, my grief was played upon, my weakness exploited. I wasn’t an ally.

I was an instrument. I didn’t call Leo. I hailed a taxi, the first one I had paid for myself, the small amount of cash the journalist had given me for minor expenses.

I gave the address of Eleanor’s estate. I had to look her in the eyes. I burst into the house, ignoring Estelle’s surprised look.

Eleanor Vance was sitting in the living room with a book. She looked up and there wasn’t a hint of surprise in her eyes, as if she knew I would come, as if she had been waiting for it. «You know everything.»

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. «Yes,» I replied calmly, stopping in the middle of the room.

My hands were clenched into fists. «I saw it. I saw Darius.»

«I saw him hand over money to the man who was blackmailing my husband.» Eleanor Vance put down her book and slowly removed her reading glasses. «And what of it,» she asked, as if discussing the weather.

That calm, indifferent tone exploded inside me. «What of it,» I yelled. «You played me. You set this whole thing up. The blackmail.»

«My accidental rescue. You knew Marcus would do something stupid. You pushed him to it.»

«You used me to destroy him?» «Yes,» Eleanor replied, just as calmly. She stood up and walked to the bar, pouring herself a glass of water.

«And what of it? The end justifies the means. The driver is an irrelevant detail.»

«The goal is Marcus, and you are the weapon. The most effective weapon one could find. An offended, humiliated wife. Perfect.»

«Why,» I whispered, feeling my strength leaving me. «Why did you do this to him, and to me?» Eleanor took a sip of water and looked at me.

Something resembling a memory flickered in her eyes for a moment. «Many years ago, when your Marcus was still a junior assistant to a big shot, he helped his boss deal with a small but very promising factory. My factory.»

«The first one I built from the ground up. They bankrupted it. Took it for pennies.»

«I lost everything. I swore that someday I would destroy them all. His boss has been rotting in the ground for years from cirrhosis.»

«And your husband? Your husband decided he was a big man. He forgot. But I didn’t.»

Now everything fell into place. It was revenge. Long, cold, carefully planned revenge.

«And I just happened to get in the way?» I asked bitterly. «You became the perfect instrument,» Eleanor corrected me. «And I gave you a chance.»

«A chance not just to get your own back, but to become stronger. I taught you to fight. Or would you prefer to still be sitting on that bus stop crying?»

She was right, as monstrous as it sounded. She was right. Eleanor had transformed me from a victim into a fighter, albeit for her own purposes.

«What now?» I asked. My voice was steady. The tears and yelling were over.

«Now that I know everything, you’ll kick me out. You’ll let them put me in jail.» Eleanor smiled.

«On the contrary. Now that you know everything, you’ve become even more dangerous. You’re angry.»

«You’re motivated. Now you’ll fight not for an apartment, but for yourself. And that is the strongest motivation.»

She walked to her massive writing desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a thin folder. She threw it on the table in front of me. «Your husband and his mistress have a very powerful protector.»

«Tiffany’s father, District Attorney Chambers. As long as he is in office, you have no chance. He will cover for both his daughter and his future son-in-law.»

«All your lawsuits, all your evidence, will shatter against his office door.» I opened the folder. Inside were photographs and photocopies of documents.

In the photos, District Attorney Chambers was receiving envelopes from well-known local businessmen. The documents were bank transfers to his shell companies. This was evidence.

Killer proof of corruption. Enough for several life sentences. «Where did you get this?»

«I have eyes and ears everywhere,» Eleanor cut in. «This is your key to freedom. Go to Chambers right now.»

«Show him this and make a deal.» «What deal?» «He drops all fraud charges against you. The criminal case is closed due to lack of evidence.»

«In exchange, you give him this folder and disappear. You leave the city forever. You’ll have to give up the apartment, of course.»

«That’s the price for your freedom. Go. Darius will take you.»

This was a way out. Ugly, unfair, but a way out. To save my life, my freedom, by sacrificing everything else.

My home, my job, my past. An hour later, I was sitting in the waiting room of the District Attorney’s office. The secretary was hesitant to let me in, but I simply said, «Tell the District Attorney I have a folder for him from Eleanor Vance.»

Thirty seconds later, the office door opened. Chambers was a heavy man with a stern, authoritative face. He met me standing.

«What do you want?» He growled. I walked silently to his desk and laid the contents of the folder before him.

The photos, the documents. He looked at them, and his face, which had been turning crimson with anger, became ashen gray. He slowly sank into his chair.

«What? What do you want?» He asked, and the old confidence was gone from his voice.

«I want the criminal case against me to be immediately dropped,» I said clearly. «All charges withdrawn due to lack of evidence.» The District Attorney was silent, shifting his gaze from the papers to my face.

«Fine.» He finally managed. «But that’s not all, is it? What else does Vance want?»

«Vance has nothing to do with this,» I replied. «These are my terms.» Chambers raised his eyebrows in surprise.

«Very well. Your terms.» I paused, gathering my thoughts.

This was the moment. The deal. Eleanor had offered me a clear plan.

Freedom in exchange for silence and the apartment. It was logical. It was safe.

«I want you to…» I stopped. I looked at the frightened face of this all-powerful man. I looked at the folder with the evidence.

I remembered Marcus’s face when he abandoned me on the highway. Tiffany’s face with my mother’s pendant around her neck. Tia’s face, full of deceptive tears.

And Eleanor’s face, cold and calculating. They all wanted me to disappear. To give up.

Some to prison. Some to another city. They all wanted to break me and throw me away.

And in that moment something clicked inside me, finely and irrevocably. I slowly, demonstrably began to gather the photographs and documents back into the folder. The district attorney watched me, not understanding.

«What are you doing?» He asked. «I agreed.» I fastened the folder and held it in my hands.

I looked straight into Chambers’ eyes. «No,» I said. My voice was quiet, but firm as steel.

«I won’t trade.» I turned and walked toward the door. «Wait!» He yelled after me.

«What are you going to do?» I stopped at the door but did not turn around. «I’m going to take everything back. My apartment, my job, my name. And you, your future son-in-law, and your daughter will pay for everything.»

I walked out of the office, leaving the stunned district attorney behind me. I walked past the reception, past security, and stepped out onto the street. I didn’t go to the car where Darius was waiting.

I walked in the opposite direction. I left everyone behind. My tormentor, my traitor sister, my puppet master.

From this moment on, I was playing for myself. I walked down the street without a destination. The wind whipped my face, but I didn’t feel the cold.

Everything inside me was burning. The decision I had made in the district attorney’s office wasn’t impulsive. It had been growing in me all these days as my world crumbled.

First, I wanted justice. Then, survival. Now, I wanted retribution.

Complete and final. I reached the first cheap coffee shop I saw, sat at a table by the window, and took out my phone.

The wad of cash Leo had given me for expenses was in my pocket. I ordered the strongest coffee and dialed his number. «Leo, it’s Naomi. We need to meet right now.»

He arrived twenty minutes later, as always, in his worn jacket and smelling of tobacco. He sat down opposite me and looked at me questioningly. «Well, what did Vance say about your little late-night discovery?»

«She confirmed everything,» I answered in a level voice. «She was playing her game and offered me a deal. Give up the district attorney in exchange for my freedom and leaving the city.»

Leo whistled. «Now that’s a turn of events, but that’s a way out for you. Unfair, of course, that they’d take the apartment, but you’d be free.»

«I refused,» I said. Leo choked on his coffee. He stared at me as if I were crazy.

«You refused? Are you in your right mind, Sterling? That was your only chance.»

«It was her chance,» I corrected him. «A chance for her to finish her revenge and toss me away like a used shell casing. I’m not playing other people’s games anymore.»

«Now I’m playing my own, and I need your help.» I took the folder with the evidence against Chambers from my bag and put it on the table. «This is my ace, but I’m not going to trade it. I’m going to use it to take everything from them.»

Leo carefully opened the folder. His eyes widened. He quickly closed it and looked around nervously.

«Do you understand that you’re holding a bomb that could blow up the entire city?» «That’s exactly what I plan to do,» I replied. My gaze was cold and resolute.

Leo looked at me and saw a completely different person, not the frightened woman he had met a few days earlier. This woman was dangerous. «What do you propose,» he asked.

And there was respect in his voice. «They think they’ve got me cornered.» I began to lay out my plan.

«They’re sure I’ll either go to jail or run away, and they are in a hurry. They need to finalize the apartment sale and leave the country as quickly as possible before their construction scam is exposed. Their weakness is greed and haste.»

«That’s what we’ll exploit.» The plan was daring and risky. It required perfect execution.

First, Leo, using his old journalistic skills, prepared a small news item. It appeared two days later in an inconspicuous column of the local business newspaper, the City Sentinel. The headline was neutral.

«Foreign investors show interest in frozen regional construction projects.» The text mentioned that a certain Swiss investment group, HVTA Capital, was exploring investment opportunities in commercial real estate, and was particularly interested in the new shopping complex project on the city’s outskirts, the very project I was implicated in. «That’s not enough,» Leo said when he showed me the newspaper. «They might not even notice.»

«We need a bigger lure.» «We’ll have one,» I replied. «Now we need to make sure this news reaches them personally, and not just news, a concrete offer.»

But an offer required money. A lot of money to make the bait believable. And then, something strange happened.

The next day, Leo called me. His voice was bewildered. «Naomi, I don’t understand. A huge sum was just deposited into my account. 125,000 dollars. An anonymous transfer.»

I smiled faintly. I knew who the anonymous donor was. Eleanor.

I had refused her plan, but the old schemer couldn’t resist seeing the finale of the play she herself had started. She had placed her bet. Now we had both the rod and the bait.

Leo activated his most reliable channel for gossip, the chatty administrator of the city’s most expensive beauty salon, where Tiffany was a regular. Half a day later, Tiffany knew, in strict confidence, that the Swiss investors were ready to buy out the project rights for double the price to avoid scandals with city authorities and speed up the process. And most importantly, they wanted to talk only to the original signatory from the plant, the person whose signature was on the documents.

Me. Tiffany took the bait. Greed outweighed caution.

The thought of snatching another gigantic payout right before their escape was too tempting. That evening, Marcus called me. His voice was tense.

He tried to sound calm, but failed to hide his anxiety. «Naomi, I have a business proposition for you regarding a certain project.» «I don’t want to talk to you, Marcus,» I replied wearily, playing my role.

«Listen, this is in your own interest,» he hissed into the phone. «We’re talking about big money, very big. Let’s meet. There are people willing to pay. We can solve all our problems once and for all.»

We agreed to meet the next day at 7 o’clock in the evening in a private conference room at the Grand Regency Hotel, the city’s most expensive and respectable hotel. They wanted to frame it as a serious business transaction. «They’re caught,» Leo said when I hung up. «Now we need to prepare.»

«We’ll need people to play the Swiss representatives. I have a couple of former colleagues, down-on-their-luck actors. For a good fee, they’ll play anyone.»

The day dragged by agonizingly. Leo and I meticulously worked out every detail of the upcoming meeting. How the investors would look, what they would say, where the recording equipment would be hidden.

Everything was going according to plan. At 5 o’clock in the evening, two hours before the meeting, my phone rang again. It was Marcus.

«Listen carefully,» he said, and there was no more fake business-like tone in his voice, only a cold, authoritative command. Change of plans. Everything inside me went cold.

«What happened?» «Nothing happened. It will be safer for everyone this way. No hotel. We’re meeting somewhere else.»

«Where?» I asked, although I already guessed I was about to hear something bad. «You’ll come to the plant,» Marcus enunciated clearly.

«To your old office at 7 p.m. You’ll come alone. You will bring all the documents, your I.D., and a notarized transfer of rights for that project in your name.»

«The investors will transfer the money to us. We will give you your share. In cash.»

«But why at the plant?» My voice trembled. «It’s empty in the evening.» «Precisely,» he replied in an icy tone.

«Fewer unnecessary eyes. And don’t you dare do anything stupid. Come alone. We will be waiting.»

He hung up. I sat with the phone in my hand, staring into space. Leo was looking at me, waiting for an explanation.

«They changed the location,» I said hollowly. «The plant, my office, at night.» «It’s a trap,» he instantly realized.

«They want to get rid of you. Naomi, we can’t go there. We have to call everything off.»

I slowly raised my eyes to him. There was no fear in them. Only the cold, ringing emptiness that remains after everything that could burn has burned down.

«No,» I said. «We won’t call anything off. We’ll go there. I will go.»

«Are you insane?» Leo jumped up. «They’ll kill you.» «That’s what they want,» I replied calmly.

«They expect to see a frightened victim who comes alone to a dark, empty building, and they will see her. We’re just going to change the ending of their play a little.» I stood up and walked to the window.

The plan that had crystallized in my head was insane, but I had no other. «Leo, we don’t need your actors anymore. We need real spectators.»

«Call the number I’m about to give you. Say that Naomi Sterling is speaking. Say that tonight at the regional manufacturing hub, a bribe transfer and a confession to grand economic fraud will take place, and that the district attorney is involved in the case.»

I wrote Eleanor’s phone number on a piece of paper. «She’ll understand what to do,» Leo asked with doubt. «She won’t miss a finale like this,» I smirked.

«This is her investment, and now the most important thing. I need to make one call.» I took out the other phone, a simple button operated one that Leo had bought me for secrecy.

I found a voice changer app online. It was a desperate, almost theatrical move, but I had to try. I dialed Marcus’s number, activated the program, setting the tone to sound like my sister Tia’s tearful, hysterical voice.

«Hello?» Marcus answered, irritated. «Marcus, Marcus, it’s me.» I screamed into the phone with the altered voice, mimicking panic.

«I’m in trouble. The police, they’re asking questions about our conversation, about the documents.» «What?» Marcus was clearly rattled. «Calm down. What questions?»

«They’re asking where I got those papers. They’re talking about some kind of scam. Marcus, you promised everything would be clean.»

«You promised to pay off my loans. You confirm it, don’t you? You do confirm everything?»

«Just calm down, Tia,» he hissed into the phone. «Yes, I confirmed everything. All your debts are settled. The apartment is almost ours. The money will be delivered tonight.»

«Calm down and keep silent. Understood. Don’t tell them a word.»

«And Tiffany? And her father? He’ll cover for us,» I continued to sob hysterically. «We’ll use him, and then we won’t need him.»

Marcus threw out maliciously. «As soon as we cross the border, I’ll shut him up. Don’t worry. He won’t be able to do anything.»

«That’s it? Don’t call me again?» I pressed disconnect and saved the recording.

That was all I needed. A confession to everything. Bribing my sister, the apartment scam, the fraud, and even the plans for the district attorney.

At quarter to seven, I drove up to the plant gate. I let the taxi go and walked alone through the dark, echoing gates. The security guard at the gate, alerted by Marcus’ call, silently let me through.

I walked across the vast dead territory. A light was only on in the windows of my old administrative building. I went up the stairs to the second floor.

The door to my office was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and walked in. All three of them were there.

Marcus, standing by the window. Tiffany, sprawled in my desk chair, and District Attorney Chambers, sitting on a visitor’s chair. His massive body seemed to fill the entire space, making the already small office as cramped as a cage.

«Well, look who decided to join us, the business lady!» Tiffany drawled, sizing me up from head to toe. «Came alone. Good girl. Did you bring the documents?»

I silently placed the folder with the notarized transfer of rights on the table. Marcus immediately snatched it, checking it greedily. «Everything’s in order,» he said, nodding to Tiffany.

«Where are the investors?» Tiffany looked at me impatiently. «Well, where are your Swiss guys? Where’s the money?»

I slowly, calmly surveyed all of them. I looked at the greedy Marcus, the predatory Tiffany, and the heavy, self-assured District Attorney. «They’re here,» I said quietly.

At that moment, a blinding light struck outside the window. Huge spotlights, mounted on the roofs of the workshops, flared up, flooding the entire factory yard with merciless white light. Marcus, Tiffany, and Chambers rushed to the window.

In the courtyard, people stood by all the exits from the building. At one exit, Leo stood with a cameraman, aiming the lens right at our windows. At another, two men in sharp business suits stood.

Federal agents. «What is this?» Tiffany shrieked. Chambers understood everything instantly.

His face turned an earthy gray. «It’s a set-up!» he roared. Marcus, insane with fury and fear, turned and lunged at me.

«I’ll kill you!» But I was ready. I stepped aside and he flew past me, crashing into the filing cabinet.

At the same moment, I pulled out my phone and hit the playback button. The small speaker filled the silent office with the recording of my conversation with Marcus. Tia’s hysterical, tearful voice, and his irritated, smug responses.

Everything was played. The bribing of my sister, the apartment scam, the fraud, and most importantly, his promise to shut up the district attorney as soon as they crossed the border. Chambers’ face contorted.

He looked at Marcus with such hatred that it seemed he was ready to incinerate him on the spot. At that moment, the office door flew open and the federal agents appeared in the doorway. «Everyone stay put. Federal Anti-Corruption Task Force is in operation.»

Chambers straightened up, trying to regain his authoritative demeanor. «Do you know who I am? I am the district attorney of this city.»

«We know,» the lead agent replied calmly. «That’s why we’re here. Mr. Chambers, you are being detained on suspicion of abuse of power and concealment of economic crimes.»

Two other agents entered the office and snapped handcuffs onto the district attorney’s wrists. Tiffany screamed, but it was a scream not of fear, but of savage rage. She turned and punched Marcus across the face with all her strength.

«You loser!» She shrieked, pummeling him with her fists. «You ruined everything! You destroyed everything! I hate you!»

The agents pulled her away. Marcus stood completely crushed, holding his head in his hands. He, too, was taken by the arms and led toward the exit.

He was broken, completely and finally. Several weeks passed. The sound of the drill was the best music I had heard in months.

A locksmith was finishing the installation of the third, most secure lock on my front door. The old locks Marcus had broken were lying on a newspaper in the hallway. I stood by the window in my living room, looking out at the city.

The apartment was mine entirely. The criminal case against me had been closed. The testimonies of Marcus and Chambers, who in a desperate attempt to reduce their sentences had begun to sink each other and Tia put everything in its proper place.

The phone rang. It was Mr. Thompson, my boss from the plant. «Naomi Sterling. Good afternoon. I’m calling as promised.»

«The order for your appointment has been signed. Starting Monday, you are the head of the planning department.» «Thank you, Mr. Thompson. I won’t let you down.»

«I have no doubt of that,» he replied. «You essentially saved the plant from a huge scandal and financial loss. It’s the least we could do.»

I hung up. Head of the planning department, the very department that Marcus’s scam had nearly destroyed, now I would rebuild it. The locksmith in the hallway finished his work.

«All set, ma’am? Ready for inspection. Couldn’t be safer.» I took the new set of keys, heavy and solid. I ran my fingers over the cold metal.

It was over. I had been through hell, but I had emerged as someone different. I had lost my husband, my sister, and my faith in people, but I had found myself.

I was home, and now I decided who could enter my door.