My brother advised me to install a listening device in our apartment before I left for a month-long business trip to another city. I decided to follow his advice. When I left, two days later, I decided to turn on the listening device.

But what I heard made me freeze in horror. I never thought my life would change so rapidly. Just a month ago, I was a completely happy woman.

I had everything one could dream of. A loving husband, a good job, a cozy apartment in the center of the city. John and I had been living together for almost seven years.

We met in college, in our junior year. He was studying economics, I was in the foreign languages department. We dated other people who didn’t know English.

I taught English and German at a language school. The money was enough for all necessities and even a little more. We traveled abroad for vacations, furnished our apartment, made plans for the future.

Everything was fine. Until that day. At the language school where I worked, they offered me a month-long trip to San Francisco.

A branch of our school was opening, and they needed an experienced teacher to help set up operations and train new staff. It was a great opportunity for career growth, and the salary was promised to be 1.5 times higher. I agreed without hesitation, and John reacted calmly to the news.

He said he would miss me, but understood how important it was for me. He promised to call every day and look after the apartment. It seemed everything was fine.

A week before departure, I visited my parents. Mom and dad lived in the suburbs, in a small cozy house. I couldn’t visit them often due to work, but before a long business trip, I decided to see them for sure.

My brother Michael also came to the parental home that day. He is 4 years older than me, always been a caring and attentive brother. He works as a programmer at an import-export company, lives alone.

He had a decent relationship with John, though they weren’t close friends. We sat on the veranda, drinking tea. Parents went to the store, and Michael and I were left alone.

I told him about the upcoming business trip, my plans, how I missed San Francisco, where we once went on a school excursion. Suddenly, Michael interrupted me. “Emily, are you sure everything is okay with you and John?” The question caught me off guard.

Of course, everything is fine. Why do you ask? Michael paused, obviously choosing his words. I just have a strange premonition.

I can’t explain it. Maybe I’m wrong, but it seems to me that John has been behaving differently lately. I was surprised.

Michael saw John not that often, once a month at most. Where did these conclusions come from? What do you mean? Everything is normal with us. No problems.

Michael shrugged. Maybe. But you know, I would play it safe in your place.

What do you suggest? Install a listening device in the apartment. Before you leave. I laughed.

It seemed like my brother was joking. But he looked serious. Have you lost your mind? Why? I trust my husband.

Listen, Emily. I’m not saying that John is hiding something. But a month is a long time.

Better to be safe. I’ll give you a good device, compact, inconspicuous. Install it somewhere in the living room.

You’ll remotely listen to the recordings. If everything is normal, then you’ll remove it and forget. But if something is wrong.

Agree, it’s better to know the truth. I refused for a long time. The thought of spying on my own husband seemed wild to me.

But Michael was persistent. And in the end, I agreed. I thought that indeed, if everything is fine, no one will know, and I’ll be calm.

The next day, Michael brought me a small device, the size of a USB drive. He explained how to activate it, how to connect to it remotely through a special app on the phone. He said the battery would last a month, and the recording activates only when there are sounds in the room.

In general, everything is thought out. I hid the device in my bag and went home, feeling like a spy from a cheap detective novel. John wasn’t home, he was late at work.

I took advantage of the moment and installed the listening device in the living room, hiding it behind books on the shelf. Then I checked if the app worked on the phone. Everything functioned perfectly.

When John returned home, I felt a sharp pang of shame. How could I give in to my brother’s persuasion? How could I doubt the person with whom I had lived for so many years? I wanted to immediately retrieve the device and throw it away. But something stopped me.

Perhaps curiosity? Or deep inside, I had doubts that I myself wasn’t aware of. The following days passed in pre-departure fuss. I needed to prepare materials for classes, pack things, solve many organizational issues.

I hardly paid attention to the listening device. I turned it on in test mode only once, when John and I were having dinner. The recording was clear, words distinguishable.

Then I turned off the app and almost forgot about it. The day of departure came unexpectedly fast. John drove me to the airport, helped with the luggage, kissed goodbye.

He promised to call every day, said he would miss me. Everything as usual, nothing suspicious. The first two days in San Francisco passed in a frantic rhythm.

New team, new tasks, new city. I returned to the rented apartment late in the evening, exhausted. John called every day, told about his affairs, asked how I was settling in.

Ordinary conversations of loving spouses. On the third day, I returned home earlier than usual. Brewed tea, settled on the couch with a laptop.

There was a lot of work, I needed to prepare materials for tomorrow’s classes. And then I remembered the listening device. I don’t know why, but I decided to check the recordings.

Just like that, out of curiosity. Opened the app on the phone, connected to the device. It worked fine, several hours of recordings had accumulated.

I started listening from the beginning, from the moment of my departure. The first recordings were boring. John came home, turned on the TV, talked on the phone about work matters.

Nothing interesting. I was about to turn it off, but decided to check a little more. And then I heard it.

The sound of the front door. Footsteps. A woman’s voice.

So, she left? The voice was unfamiliar. Young, with a slight hoarseness. Yes, for a month.

We can not worry. This was John answering. I would recognize his voice out of thousands.

Great. So, we have plenty of time. The sound of a kiss.

Laughter, my heart clenched in pain. The first thought. Betrayal.

Banal, vulgar betrayal. The husband brought his mistress to our apartment as soon as I left. So predictable, so offensive.

But the next words made me freeze. Are you sure she suspects nothing? This is risky. Absolutely.

Emily completely trusts me. She thinks I work as a financial analyst, toiling over reports. She has no idea what I really do.

And if she finds out? She won’t. And if she does, it will be too late. By then, everything will be done, and we will be far away.

What? What is he talking about? What will be done? Where are they planning to go? Are you sure this will work? So much money is at stake. Everything is calculated. The scheme has been perfected over years.

No traces, no evidence. Clean work. And your boss? He won’t suspect? Mark won’t suspect anything.

He completely trusts me. Thinks I’m his right hand. Has no idea that I’ve been leaking information to competitors for years.

By the time he realizes what happened, his business will be destroyed. My brain refused to process what I heard. John.

My John, a calm, decent, honest person, is talking about some crime? About betraying his boss? About stealing money? And your wife. Is she not a problem? Pause. I held my breath.

Emily? No, not a problem. She knows nothing. And won’t know.

And when everything happens, it won’t matter anymore. You talk as if you’re going to get rid of her. Laughter.

Cold, unfamiliar laughter. There are different ways to get rid of a person. Not necessarily physically eliminate.

You can just disappear. New documents, new country, new life. For us with you.

Let her stay here, deal with the consequences. If lucky, she’ll get off with interrogations. If not, she might even go to jail as an accomplice.

In any case, I don’t care. I listened, and it seemed like some dream, nightmare. My husband, the person with whom I lived seven years, can’t say such things.

So cold-bloodedly plan betrayal, theft, escape. So indifferently discuss my fate. When do we start? In two weeks.

On the 14th, Mark will sign the documents, transfer the money. We must finish everything by the 15th and disappear. Tickets are already booked.

New passports will be ready by the 10th. And your friend is reliable? The one helping with documents? Ian? Yes, a tested person. Has been working with such things for a long time.

No problems. I listened further, and each word hit like a slap. They discussed details of some scam with stocks, withdrawing money through shell companies.

Talked about sums with six zeros. Planned an escape to some country without extradition. And all this was said by my husband.

The person I thought I knew better than anyone in the world. The recording continued. They moved to the bedroom.

Our bedroom. The bed creaked, the woman moaned. I turned off the app.

It was too much. Betrayal after seven years of marriage is painful. But what I learned before that was much worse.

My husband is a criminal. He has been deceiving his boss for years, leaking information to competitors. Planning some major scam.

Planning to flee the country with his mistress, leaving me to deal with the consequences. Possibly, arrest, prison awaited me. I sat, not moving, unable to believe.

Maybe this is some mistake? Maybe a prank? Maybe Vladimir is shooting some movie, rehearsing a role? Maybe? No. Everything was real. Every word, every intonation.

This was my husband, but at the same time, a completely unfamiliar person to me. The first thought was to call him. Scream, demand explanations.

But I restrained myself. If he finds out that I know everything, what then? What will he do? Accelerate his plans? Come up with something even more dangerous? Or maybe even… No, I couldn’t allow such thoughts. Vladimir is not capable of physical violence.

At least, the Vladimir I knew. But now I understood that I didn’t know him at all. I decided to call my brother.

Michael always knew how to stay calm in critical situations, could give reasonable advice. Moreover, it was he who insisted on installing the listening device. As if he had a premonition of something.

Dialed the number. Beeps. Long, endless beeps.

Michael didn’t answer. Perhaps he was busy at work. I sent a message.

Call back urgently. It’s very important. While waiting for a response, I tried to gather my thoughts.

What should I do next? Go to the police? But I have no evidence except for the illegally made recording. Moreover, I didn’t even know exactly what the crime Vladimir is planning consists of. Talk to his boss, this Mark? But I didn’t even know who he is.

John never told me in detail about his work. The phone vibrated. Anton, Emily, what happened? Are you okay? Michael, I need to talk to you.

It’s urgent. Can you now? Of course. I’m at work, but I can step away.

Something serious? Very. It’s about John. I. I heard something on the recording.

Something terrible. Pause. What exactly did you hear? I briefly retold the content of the recording.

A strange woman, talks about some scam, about fleeing the country, about new documents. About the fact that I may be accused of complicity. Michael was silent.

Then he sighed heavily. Damn! I suspected something was wrong with him, but I didn’t think it was so serious. Emily, listen to me carefully.

Don’t call John. Don’t show that you know something. Behave as usual if he calls.

I’m flying to San Francisco right now. Why? Michael, what’s going on? Do you know something? Not on the phone. I’ll explain everything when I arrive.

Wait for me, don’t go anywhere. And for God’s sake, be careful, he disconnected. I remained sitting with the phone in my hand, even more confused than before.

What does Michael know? Why is he so alarmed? Why is he flying to me? What is going on? Fragments of thoughts, memories swirled in my head. John, his work, his frequent business trips, calls at night, which he explained by urgent matters. Sudden money that appeared from bonuses.

New car last year, expensive watches, jewelry for my birthday. Everything seemed logical, explainable. Successful career, good salary.

I never doubted. And should I have? Were there signs that I missed? Hints that I didn’t notice? Could I have prevented what is happening now? The phone vibrated again. This time John.

I froze. What to tell him? How to behave? Can I hide that I know everything? Deep breath. Calm.

I must act normally, as if nothing happened. Otherwise, he will suspect something. Hello? Hi, sunshine.

How are you there? How is San Francisco. His voice sounded as usual. Warm, interested.

No signs of tension or falseness. A professional actor, no less. Everything is good.

Lots of work, I’m tired. And you? What’s new? Nothing special. Work, home, TV.

I miss you without you. Misses. Of course.

So much that he brought another woman to our bed. I miss you too. Listen, sorry, I have to run.

Meeting in five minutes. We’ll talk in the evening, okay? Of course, run. Love you.

And I you. Hung up. My hands were shaking.

I just lied to the person I never lied to. Said I love, although inside there was only pain and fear. How easy it turned out to pretend.

Perhaps, for him it was also easy. Seven years pretending to be a loving husband, while planning something completely different. I turned on the listening app again.

There were more recordings, later ones. I didn’t want to listen to them, but I had to know everything. Had to understand what John is planning exactly, how serious the danger is.

New recording. Again a woman’s voice, but now different. Lower, more confident.

John, do you understand what you’re getting into? This is no longer just leaking information. This is direct theft, in particularly large amount. Serious charge…

Alice Victoria, I have everything calculated. No traces, no evidence. The money will pass through three offshore, then through bitcoin.

Impossible to track. And your wife? She won’t suspect anything? My wife is in San Francisco now. For a month.

By the time she returns, everything will be over. And I’ll be far away. You’re going to leave her? After so many years? What else can I do? Take her with me? She won’t agree.

Emily is law-abiding, proper. She would never go for such a thing. Besides, Helen is against.

Says the wife is ballast. And I agree with her. Helen.

Is that the name of his mistress? The one with the hoarse voice? John, think again. Mark is not the person to joke with. If he learns of your betrayal, he won’t limit himself to court.

You know his methods, he won’t find out. I have everything thought out. By the time something becomes clear, I’ll be in another country, with a new name, with a new appearance.

No law will reach me there, where I’ll be. And if your accomplice, this IT guy, blabs? Ian? No, he’s reliable. Besides, his share is too big to risk.

Look, John. I warned you. This is your choice, your risk.

But if something goes wrong, I won’t be able to protect you. Everything will be fine, Alice Victoria. You know me.

I never take on a case if I’m not sure of success. The conversation ended. I sat, trying to comprehend what I heard.

So, John plans to steal money from his boss, some Mark. A large sum, apparently. He has an accomplice named Ian, who helps with the technical side.

There’s a mistress Helen, with whom he plans to flee. And there’s some Alice Victoria, who knows about the plans, but apparently doesn’t participate in them directly. Who is she? Colleague? Boss? Lawyer? And what do I do with all this? Anton promised to fly today.

Perhaps he will advise something. But there were still several hours until his arrival. And I couldn’t just sit and wait, doing nothing.

Decided to listen to more recordings. Perhaps there will be something that will help understand the situation better. New recording.

John talking on the phone. Yes, everything is on plan. Documents will be ready in a week.

Yes, of course, I understand the risks. No, the wife knows nothing, she’s in San Francisco. No, she won’t return earlier.

That’s excluded. Pause. Yes, Helen, I remember.

Everything will be as we agreed. Money, new passports, tickets. Everything is ready.

Only to wait for the 14th, when Mark signs the documents. Another pause. No, he won’t suspect.

Why would he? I’ve been working with him for five years, he completely trusts me. Thinks I’m his right hand, the best employee. Has no idea that I’ve been leaking information to competitors for years.

Another pause, don’t worry, dear. In two weeks, everything will be over. We’ll be rich and free.

We’ll start a new life. Together. I turned off the recording.

Nausea rolled to the throat. Every word of John’s was like a knife stab. He betrayed not only his boss.

He betrayed me. Our family. Our love.

Everything I believed in for seven years. And what do I do now? How to proceed? The doorbell interrupted my thoughts. I flinched.

Who could it be? Anton shouldn’t have arrived yet. Maybe colleagues from work? Or the apartment owner? I approached the door, looked through the peephole. An unfamiliar man.

Tall, athletic build, in a dark jacket. Who is this? What does he want? Who is there? I asked, not opening the door. Anastasia Sergeevna? You have a package.

Sign, please. Package? For me? But I don’t know anyone in San Francisco, no one could send me anything. And my address is known only to colleagues from work.

From whom the package? From Anton Sergeevich. Your brother. Anton? But he said he would fly himself.

Why would he send something? Show the courier’s ID, please. The man hesitated. Then showed some card to the peephole.

Everything looked quite official. Courier service logo, photo, name. Ivan Petrov.

I still hesitated. Something was wrong. Intuition screamed danger.

Leave the package under the door. I’ll pick it up later. I can’t.

Your signature is needed. Instruction. He spoke calmly, but something in his voice alarmed me.

Some unnaturalness, tension. Then wait, I’ll call my brother now, clarify. I stepped away from the door, took the phone.

Dialed Anton’s number. No answer. Sent a message.

There’s some courier with a package allegedly from you. Is that true? No response. Strange.

Usually Anton responds quickly. Another doorbell. Persistent, long.

Anastasia Sergeevna, I need to go to other addresses. Open, please. This will take a minute.

I was silent. Fear bound my movements. Something suggested.

Don’t open. Under no circumstances open. Anastasia Sergeevna, I know you’re home.

Open. The voice changed. Became harsher, more demanding.

This is no longer a request. This is an order. I quietly stepped away from the door, took the phone.

Who to call? Police? And what do I say? A courier came to me, and I’m scared. They won’t come for such nonsense. Another ring.

Now continuous, as if someone is holding a finger on the button. And then I heard it. The sound of a key in the lock.

Someone was trying to open my door from outside. Panic overwhelmed me. Rushed to the door, put on the chain.

Just in time. The door opened a few inches, but the chain didn’t allow it to open fully. Anastasia Sergeevna, open.

Don’t complicate. Who is this person? Where did he get the key from my apartment? What does he need? Go away, or I’ll call the police. I shouted, desperately trying to make my voice sound confident.

I don’t advise. This will create problems not only for me, but also for your husband. And for you, by the way, too.

What? What does John have to do with it? Who are you? What do you want? Mark Ashford sent me. He wants to talk to you. This is in your interests, believe me.

Mark? The same boss of John’s, whom he is going to deceive? How does he know where I am? And why does he need me? I’m not going anywhere with an unfamiliar person. Tell Mark Ashford that if he wants to talk, let him call me. This is not a phone conversation.

Too delicate topics. Concerns your husband and his. Activities.

I was silent. What to do? Go? But this may be dangerous. Not go? But then I won’t know what’s going on.

I give you five minutes to think. Then I’ll break the door. Believe me, I know how.

His voice sounded calm, matter-of-fact. He wasn’t threatening, just stating a fact. And that made it even scarier.

I frantically reasoned. Five minutes. What can be done in five minutes? Call the police? They won’t arrive in time.

To Anton? He doesn’t answer. Escape through the window? I’m on the fifth floor. The decision came suddenly.

The windows of my apartment overlooked a courtyard well of a typical San Francisco high-rise. Opposite, literally ten meters away, windows of another apartment. If I shout, ask for help, maybe someone will hear? I rushed to the window, opened it.

Cold air rushed into the room. Leaned out. Help.

I’m being attacked. Call the police. No reaction.

Windows opposite are closed, curtains drawn. Workday, everyone at work. Shouted again.

Silence. This is useless, Anastasia Sergeevna. No one will come to help.

Three minutes left. His voice. He was already in the apartment.

How? Turned around. No, the door is still chained. So, he just heard my shouts from the corridor.

What to do? What to do? The phone vibrated. Message from Anton. Emily, don’t open to anyone.

I’m already at SFO, will be soon. Wait for me. Too late.

The courier is already here, threatening to break the door. I have less than three minutes left. I decided to buy time.

Okay, I’ll go with you. But I need to get ready. Five minutes.

Two minutes. Otherwise, I’ll break the door. Okay, two.

I rushed to the bedroom. What to do? What to take with me? Phone, of course. Documents.

Money. What else? Maybe some weapon? But I have nothing. Grabbed a bag, threw in passport, wallet, phone.

Threw on a jacket. Two minutes expired. Time’s up, Anastasia Sergeevna.

Are you going? Yes, I’m coming. Approached the door, removed the chain. Heart beating so hard, it seemed it would jump out of the chest.

Opened the door. The man was exactly as I imagined him through the peephole. Tall, sturdy, with cold gray eyes.

No courier uniform, just a black jacket and jeans. Let’s go. The car is waiting.

Where are we going? You’ll find out on site. He let me go ahead, and we left the apartment. I looked around for neighbors, other people.

No one. Empty stairwell. We descended by elevator, exited the entrance.

At the curb stood a black SUV, with tinted windows. The man opened the rear door, gestured for me to get in. I hesitated.

Getting into an unfamiliar car with an unfamiliar person is the last thing advised in such situations. But did I have a choice? Don’t be afraid, Anastasia Sergeevna. If Mark Ashford wanted to harm you, he wouldn’t invite you for a talk.

Logical. But not very comforting. I got into the car.

The man sat next to me. Behind the wheel was another person I hadn’t seen before. “Let’s go,” commanded my companion.

The car started. I looked out the window, trying to memorize the route. We drove out onto Market Street, then turned somewhere to the side.

I knew the city poorly, couldn’t exactly determine where we were going. “How long to drive?” — I asked, trying to defuse the tension. “Twenty minutes”.

The man was not inclined to conversation. Well, I won’t impose either. Meanwhile, I sent a message to Anton.

Mark’s people took me away. They say he wants to talk. Black SUV, perhaps Mercedes.

Didn’t see the numbers. Sending failed. No network.

Strange. It was just there. Mobile phones don’t work in the salon, — the man noticed, intercepting my glance.

Special equipment. Security measures. So, I can’t inform Anton.

I remained alone, without connection, in a car with unfamiliar people, going unknown where. Thoughts frantically raced. What do they know? Why did this Mark need me? Does he know about John’s plans? And if he knows, what is he going to do? Twenty minutes later, as the man promised, the car stopped.

I looked out the window. We were near a large mansion, behind a high fence. Security, video cameras.

Serious place. Arrived. Get out.

I got out of the car. The man led me to the gates, where a guard met us. Checked some list, nodded, let us through.

We walked along a well-groomed path to the house. Big, three-story, with columns. More like a residence of some billionaire than an office.

Inside it was even more impressive. Marble floor, crystal chandeliers, antique furniture. My companion led me through the spacious hall, to the stairs, then to the second floor, along a long corridor, to a massive door.

Knocked. Waited for an answer, opened the door, let me go ahead. Anastasia Sergeevna has arrived, he reported to someone inside the room.

Thank you, Ian. You can go. Ian? The same accomplice of John’s? But how? He’s on the husband’s side, helping him deceive Mark.

Why did he bring me here? What’s going on? I entered the room. It was an office. Big, spacious, with windows from floor to ceiling.

Behind a massive desk sat a man about fifty. Swarthy, with gray temples, in an expensive suit. His face seemed familiar.

Where could I have seen him? Come in, Anastasia Sergeevna. Sit down. Tea, coffee, his voice was calm, even benevolent.

But the eyes. There was steel in them. No, thank you.

What do you need? Why did you bring me here? I tried to speak firmly, but my voice treacherously trembled. Talk. About your husband.

About his. Activities. I know nothing about my husband’s work.

He’s a financial analyst, that’s all I know. The man smirked. Do you really think so? Well, then I have news for you.

Sit down, the conversation will be long. I sat in the armchair opposite the desk. Where to go? I was in a stranger’s house, without connection, without support.

All that was left was to listen. Allow me to introduce myself. Mark Ashford.

I run the investment company Argos. Perhaps you’ve heard of us? Argos? The name was familiar. I think I saw ads in the city.

Something about investments, about trust management. Solid firm, apparently. Yes, something heard.

Your husband, John Johnson, has been working for me for five years. Started as an ordinary analyst, now deputy director of finance. Capable employee, grows quickly.

I trust him. Trusted, to be precise. Pause.

He looked at me attentively, as if evaluating the reaction. Two weeks ago, it became known to me that John Johnson plans to deceive me. Steal a large sum of money and hide abroad.

I have evidence. Recordings of conversations, correspondence, documents. All this I can provide to the police at any moment.

I was silent. What to say here? I knew he was telling the truth. I heard John’s confession on the recording myself.

But I am not in a hurry to contact law enforcement. For several reasons. First, it’s a scandal.

Reputational losses for the company. Second, money. If John ends up in prison, returning them will be problematic.

Third, I have some sympathy for your husband. He is talented, smart. It’s a pity to lose such an employee.

He paused, sipped water from a glass. There is a fourth reason. You.

Me? What do I have to do with it? John claims that you know nothing about his plans. That he is going to leave you, leave you to deal with the consequences. Perhaps you will even be accused of complicity.

I consider this unfair. He spoke calmly, reasonably. But his words chilled.

What do you want from me? Help. I want to stop John before he does the irreparable. And you can help me with this.

How? Very simple. You will return to New York. Tell your husband that you were urgently recalled from the business trip.

Come up with a reason. Colleague’s illness, change in management’s plans, anything. John will be unpleasantly surprised, but won’t show it.

He doesn’t want to arouse suspicions. And then? Then you will behave as usual. Loving wife, suspecting nothing.

But at the same time. You will be our eyes and ears in your apartment. You want me to spy on my own husband, exactly? This is in your interests, believe me…

If John carries out his plan, you will be left alone, without means, possibly with a criminal case. If we stop him, he will have a chance to avoid prison. I am ready to give him this chance.

For your sake. I was silent, pondering what I heard. The proposal sounded logical.

But there was something wrong, false in it. Why does Mark Ashford care so much about my interests? Why is he ready to forgive John? This didn’t fit with the image of a tough businessman that emerged from his words and actions. And if I refuse? Then you will stay here, as my guest.

Until the situation is resolved. John will carry out his plan, will be arrested, go to prison. You will become the widow of a convict.

Not the best prospect, agree? This was already a direct threat. He offered me a choice without choice. Either cooperate, or become a prisoner.

You have no right to hold me here. This is kidnapping, not kidnapping, but protection. I care about your safety.

You don’t want to be involved in your husband’s crime? Neither do I. Therefore, I suggest you stay here, under my protection, until everything is resolved. He spoke politely, even caringly.

But the meaning was clear. Either I agree to his terms, or I remain a prisoner. I need to think.

Of course. You have time until evening. Ian will escort you to your room.

Everything necessary is there. If you need something, tell him. He pressed a button on the desk.

A minute later, the same man who brought me here entered the office. Ian. John’s accomplice? Or Mark’s man? Or a double agent? Escort Anastasia Sergeevna to the guest room, in the east wing.

Provide everything necessary. Yes, Mark Ashford. I stood up, followed Ian.

We walked along the corridor, descended by another staircase, again along the corridor. The house was huge, a real labyrinth. Finally, we stopped at one of the doors.

Ian opened it, let me go ahead. Your room. Bathroom there, wardrobe next to it.

If you need something, press the button by the bed. He spoke dryly, businesslike. No emotions.

Can I call my brother? He will be worried. Phones don’t work here. Signal blocker.

Security measure. And computer? Internet? No. Nothing that can be used for communication with the outside world.

So, I’m really a prisoner. Isolated from the world, without the possibility to call for help. When can I leave here? Mark Ashford decides that.

Rest. Dinner will be brought at seven. He went out, closed the door.

I heard the click of the lock. Locked. I looked around.

The room was spacious, well furnished. Big bed, wardrobe, table, armchair. Everything expensive, quality.

Window with a view of the garden. Barred window. I approached it, tried to open.

Blocked. No chance to get out. Sat on the bed, trying to gather my thoughts.

What’s going on? Who to believe? What to do? John is a traitor, I knew that for sure. I heard his confession on the recording myself. But who is Mark Ashford? Does he really want to help me, or does he have his own plans? And who is Ian? Double agent? Works for both? Or only pretends to help John, but in fact loyal to Mark? And where is Anton now? He should have flown, but didn’t make it.

Does he know where I am? Can he find me? And what does he know about all this story at all? Too many questions, too few answers. I lay on the bed, closed my eyes. Need to calm down, think.

Make the right decision. If I agree to Mark’s proposal, I’ll return home, to John. I’ll pretend I know nothing, and myself will spy on him.

Report to Mark about his plans, actions. This is betrayal. But didn’t John betray me first? Didn’t he plan to leave me, leave me to deal with the consequences of his crime? If I refuse, I’ll stay here, in this house, under lock.

For how long? A week? A month? A year? And what will happen to my work, my life? What will happen to John? He will be arrested, put in prison. Despite all he did, I wasn’t sure I wanted such a fate for the person I once loved. Whom, perhaps, I still love, despite everything.

Is there a third option? Escape from here? But how? The window is barred, the door is locked, the phone doesn’t work. I’m in a stranger’s house, in a stranger’s city, without support. Thoughts were confused, head ached.

Too many events, too many shocks in one day. I myself didn’t notice how I fell asleep. Woke up from a knock on the door.

Opened my eyes, not immediately understanding where I am. Then remembered. Mark’s house, locked room, proposal to spy on husband.

Yes. Responded I, sitting on the bed. The door opened.

A middle-aged woman entered, in a strict suit. Anastasia Sergeevna. Mark Ashford invites you to dinner.

Follow me. I looked at the clock. Seven in the evening.

I slept several hours. Can I refuse? Of course. Then dinner will be brought here.

But Mark Ashford would prefer to see you at the table. He wants to continue the conversation. I decided to go.

After all, sitting in the room, I won’t decide anything. And perhaps at dinner I can learn something new that will help me make a decision. Good, I’m going.

Can I freshen up? Of course. The bathroom is there. Everything necessary is there.

I’ll wait outside the door. The woman went out. I went to the bathroom, washed, fixed my hairstyle.

I wanted to take a shower, change clothes, but there was no time, no change of clothes. When I came out of the room, the woman was waiting for me in the corridor. Silently led somewhere deep into the house.

We descended the stairs, passed through the hall, ended up in a large dining room. Long table, crystal chandeliers, silver utensils. Mark Ashford was already sitting at the table.

He stood up when I entered. Anastasia Sergeevna, glad you joined me. Please sit down.

He indicated the chair next to him. I sat down. Two waiters served us.

A real restaurant in a private house. Wine? White, red? No, thank you. Water, if possible.

He nodded to the waiter, he poured me water. So, Anastasia Sergeevna, have you thought about my proposal? I need more information. What exactly is John planning? How exactly is he going to deceive you? And why do you think I can help you? Mark sipped wine, thoughtfully looked at me.

Fair questions. Well, I’ll answer. John plans theft in particularly large size.

It’s about two billion dollars. Money of investors who entrusted them to our company. The scheme is complex, technical details are not needed for you.

The essence is that in the coming days he will get access to these funds and try to transfer them through a series of shell companies to accounts in offshore. From there, the money will go through cryptocurrencies, become untraceable. And John himself plans to disappear.

New documents, new appearance, new country of residence. He spoke calmly, as if discussing the weather, not crimes for billions of dollars. How do you know this? I have my sources.

Let’s say, not only John knows how to install listening devices. I flinched. Does he know about the device Anton gave me? Or is this just a figure of speech? And what do I have to do with it? How can I help? You see, Anastasia Sergeevna, I know that John plans a crime.

But I don’t know all the details. When exactly he is going to act, where exactly to transfer the money, with whom exactly from my employees in conspiracy? Yes, I suspect Ian, but are there others? And most importantly, where he stores documents, passwords, accesses? Without this information, I can’t stop him. And you think he will tell me? After seven years of marriage, he never dedicated me to the details of his work.

Why do you think something will change now, he won’t tell. But you can hear. Overhear conversations, find documents.

He stores something at home, in the computer, in the phone. Passwords, access codes, addresses. You live with him, you have access to all this.

I shook my head. All this sounded like a spy movie, not real life. And if I refuse? What then? Then, as I already said, you will stay here.

Until the situation is resolved. This is not a threat, Anastasia Sergeevna. This is care about your safety.

John is a smart person, but cornered, he can be dangerous. Even for you. Do you think he can harm me? I do not exclude such a possibility.

Especially if he learns that you are aware of his plans. I recalled John’s words on the recording. If lucky, she’ll get off with interrogations.

If not, perhaps even go to jail as an accomplice. In any case, I don’t care. It doesn’t look like he was going to cause me physical harm.

But emotional, psychological. Yes, he planned that exactly, why should I believe you? I don’t know you. You kidnapped me, keep me locked up.

Why should I trust you more than my own husband? Mark put down the fork, looked at me attentively. You shouldn’t. Trust needs to be earned.

But think logically. What do I gain by deceiving you? Nothing. I need your help to stop the crime, save the investors’ money, protect the company’s reputation.

And what do you get by helping me? A chance for a normal life. Without prison, without scandal, without losing everything you hold dear. He paused, then added.

Moreover, your brother recommended you cooperate with me. I flinched. Anton? You know my brother? Of course.

Michael Johnson works for me for three years already. He is my chief specialist in information security. It was he who informed me about John’s plans.

And it was he who advised you to install the listening device in the apartment. I froze. Michael? Works for Mark? All this time? And it’s he who set me up with the listening device? Made me hear John’s confession.

I don’t believe it. Michael couldn’t. He’s my brother, he wouldn’t.

Wouldn’t what? Protect you. But that’s exactly what he’s doing. He knew that John plans to leave you, leave you to deal with the consequences.

He wanted you to know the truth. Think, isn’t it better to know who you really live with? I was silent, trying to comprehend what I heard. Michael works for Mark.

Knows about John’s plans. Set it up so that I learned the truth. And now he wants me to help them stop my husband.

Everything fit. But it didn’t make it easier. Where is Michael now? Why isn’t he here? He’s on the way.

Delayed in New York, some technical problems with the company’s servers. Should arrive tomorrow morning. I want to talk to him.

Personally. Before making any decision. Of course.

As soon as he arrives, I’ll arrange your meeting. I nodded. That’s all I could do now.

Wait for Michael, talk to him, understand what’s really going on. And now, if you don’t mind, let’s have dinner. The chef tried.

I wasn’t hungry, but I forced myself to eat. Need to maintain strength, clarity of mind. Unknown what awaits me ahead.

After dinner, I was escorted back to the room. Locked again. I sat on the bed, trying to gather my thoughts.

If Mark is telling the truth, then the situation is even more tangled than I thought. Michael works for him. Knows about John’s plans.

Set it up so that I learned the truth. And now they both want me to help them stop my husband. But what if Mark is lying? What if he is using my brother’s name to manipulate me? What if Michael has nothing to do with this, and is now desperately looking for me all over San Francisco? I didn’t know what to believe.

Who to believe? Too much lie, too much betrayal. Knock on the door. I flinched.

Yes, the door opened. Ian entered, the same one who brought me here. Anastasia Sergeevna, you have a call.

He handed me the phone. Ordinary mobile, old model. Who is this? Your brother.

I took the phone, put it to my ear. Hello. Emily.

It’s me, Michael. Are you okay? His voice. Exactly his.

But it sounded strange. Tense, scared. Michael, where are you? What’s going on? I’m in New York.

Delayed because of work. I’ll be in San Francisco tomorrow morning. Emily, listen carefully.

Do everything Mark Ashford says. He wants to help. He’s on our side…

Michael, do you work for him? All this time? Yes. Three years. I couldn’t tell you.

Official secret. Sorry. And you knew about John’s plans? That’s why you advised to install the listening device.

Yes. I tried to protect you. Wanted you to learn the truth before it’s too late.

His voice sounded sincere. But something was wrong. Some tension, unnaturalness.

Michael, are you? Are you safe? Pause. Too long. Yes, of course.

Everything is fine. I’m just worried about you. Do what Mark Ashford says.

He knows how to do right. Something was definitely wrong. Michael never called people by name and patronymic in conversation with me.

Never spoke so formally, so learned. Michael, tell me, what was our dog’s name in childhood? Another pause. Emily, what strange questions? We have more serious problems now than memories of childhood.

We never had a dog. I checked if it’s really Michael. And now I knew the answer.

Yes, you’re right. Sorry. Just nervous.

When will you arrive tomorrow? In the morning. Around 10. I’ll come to you immediately.

And now I have to go. Take care of yourself. And remember what I said.

Trust Mark Ashford. He disconnected. I returned the phone to Ian.

Thank you. Ian nodded, went out, closed the door. Lock click, I sat on the bed.

So, this was not Michael. Or Michael, but spoke under duress. In any case, I couldn’t trust this conversation.

Couldn’t trust Mark. Perhaps, and Michael is not here, and won’t be. Perhaps, all this is lie, manipulation, attempt to force me to cooperate.

But why? What does Mark really need? If he knows about John’s plans, why not just arrest him? Why not go to the police? Why does he need me specifically? Too many questions, too few answers. I lay on the bed, closed my eyes. Need to rest, gather my thoughts.

Tomorrow is an important day. If Michael really arrives, I can talk to him, understand what’s going on. If not, I’ll have to make a decision myself.

The morning started with a knock on the door. I opened my eyes, not immediately understanding where I am. Then remembered.

Mark’s house, locked room, tangled situation with husband and brother. Yes? I responded, sitting on the bed. The door opened.

The same woman who invited me to dinner yesterday entered. Good morning, Anastasia Sergeevna. Breakfast will be served in half an hour in the small dining room.

Mark Ashford asked to convey that your brother will arrive at eleven. And meanwhile, this is for you. She handed me a package.

Inside was clothing. Jeans, t-shirt, underwear. All new, with tags.

And my size. From where? Mark Ashford ordered. He assumed you would want to change.

The bathroom is there, all necessary toiletries are there. I’ll come for you in half an hour. She went out, leaving the door unlocked.

This was something new. They no longer keep me locked up? Or is this just a gesture of trust? I decided not to tempt fate and not try to escape. Yet.

First, need to figure out the situation, understand what’s really going on. And if Michael really arrives, talk to him. Took a shower, changed into new clothes.

Brushed my teeth with a new brush. Everything was thought out, all my needs taken into account. Like in a good hotel.

Or in a very comfortable prison. Half an hour later, as promised, the woman returned. Ready? Follow me to the dining room.

I followed her. We descended the stairs, passed through the hall, ended up in a small cozy room. Here the table was set for breakfast.

Mark was already waiting for me. Good morning, Anastasia Sergeevna. Hope you slept well? Thank you, not bad.

Sit down. Coffee, tea? Coffee, please. I sat at the table.

The waiter poured me coffee. The breakfast was abundant. Scrambled eggs, toasts, cheese, ham, fruits.

I wasn’t hungry, but forced myself to eat. Need forces. Your brother will be here at eleven.

We have time to talk. About what? About your decision. Will you help us stop John? I sipped coffee, trying to buy time.

I’m still not sure I can trust you. That call yesterday. It was not Michael.

Or Michael, but spoke under duress. Mark raised his eyebrows. Interesting statement.

Why do you think so? I checked. Asked a question that the real Michael would know the answer to. He couldn’t answer.

Mark smiled. For the first time, I saw a sincere, non-business smile on his face. Clever.

Very clever. That’s why we need you, Anastasia Sergeevna. You are observant, you know how to analyze the situation, you don’t succumb to manipulations.

Even in a stressful situation, you maintain clarity of mind. So you admit that it was not Michael? I admit. It was one of my employees.

I wanted to check you. Understand if you can be trusted. You passed the check.

And you don’t want to trust me? You continue to lie, manipulate? It was necessary. I had to be sure. In what? In that I will help you catch my own husband.

In that I won’t warn him, won’t betray you. Exactly. You love him, despite everything.

Seven years of marriage, it’s not a joke. Naturally, I had doubts. I shook my head.

This person was unbearable. Cold, calculating, manipulative. But perhaps that’s why he achieved success in business.

And now you are telling the truth? Michael really will arrive at 11? Yes. This is the truth. He flew early in the morning, now driving from the airport.

Will be here about 11. You can check. He handed me the phone.

Modern smartphone, not that old model Ian came with yesterday. Call him. Right now.

Check. I took the phone, dialed Michael’s number. Beeps.

One, second, third. Hello. His voice.

Real, without tension, without falseness. Michael? It’s me, Emily. Emily, are you okay? Where are you? In Mark Ashford’s house.

You know where it is? Yes, of course. I’m already driving there. Will be in about an hour.

Are you okay? Are they not offending you? No, everything is normal. They feed me well, gave clean clothes. But keep locked up.

This is for your safety. Don’t be angry at Mark Ashford. He wants to help.

You really work for him? Three years? Yes. Sorry I didn’t tell earlier. Couldn’t.

Official secret. And you knew about John’s plans? That’s why you advised to install the listening device. Yes.

I tried to protect you. Wanted you to learn the truth before it’s too late. The same words as yesterday on the phone.

But now they sounded sincere, natural. Michael, tell me, what was our first teacher’s name? Mary Johnson. Emily, what questions? Are you checking me? Correct answer.

This is really Michael. Yes, sorry. Yesterday some person called me, posed as you.

I understood that it’s a deception. What? Who called? Mark Ashford, you know about this? The last question was addressed not to me. So, Mark heard our conversation.

Speakerphone? Yes, this was my initiative. Check. Anastasia Sergeevna passed it brilliantly.

I’m impressed. Mark’s voice, audible through the phone. Yes, speakerphone.

Have you lost your mind? Why these games? My sister is already scared, confused. And you arrange checks for her? Michael was angry. It was audible in his voice.

So, he didn’t know about the check. So, he wasn’t in cahoots with Mark on this issue. This was encouraging.

Michael, when will you arrive? I asked, trying to defuse the situation. In about 40 minutes. Wait for me.

And don’t agree to anything until I arrive. Okay? Okay. See you.

Hold on. He disconnected. I returned the phone to Mark.

Satisfied? He asked, putting the phone in his pocket. Yes. This was really Michael.

And he is really driving here. I told you. But this doesn’t mean I trust you.

Too much lie, too much manipulation. I understand. But sometimes lie is necessary.

Especially when lives of people are at stake. Lives. You talked about money, about the company’s reputation.

What do lives have to do with it? Mark paused, as if deciding whether to speak further. Anastasia Sergeevna, you are a smart woman. You must understand that it’s not just about corporate fraud.

Two billion dollars is not the amount that can be just stolen and left. For such money, they kill. And John understands this perfectly.

That’s why he so thoroughly plans his escape. New documents, new appearance, country without extradition. He knows he will be searched.

And not only by police. Are you threatening him? Not I. There are investors who entrusted us their money. People for whom 2 billion is not just numbers in a bank report.

This is their life, their business, their future. If these money disappear, they won’t wait until the police find the guilty. They will find them themselves.

And punish. In their own way. He spoke calmly, but his words chilled.

I began to understand what story John got into. And what story I got into myself, even not suspecting it. And what do you propose, the same as yesterday.

You return to New York, to your husband. Say that the business trip ended earlier. Behave as usual, unsuspecting wife.

And at the same time help us collect information about his plans. Details, dates, names of accomplices. Everything that will help us stop him before he does the irreparable.

And in exchange? In exchange, I guarantee safety. To you, John, your entire family. I will make sure the money is returned to investors, and your husband gets off with minimal punishment.

Perhaps even avoid prison. Everything can be solved if acted correctly and timely. I looked at him, trying to understand if he is telling the truth.

Or is this another manipulation? Why do you care so much about John? He plans to deceive you, steal a huge sum. Why do you want him to avoid punishment? Mark smiled, but this time his smile was sad. I know John for five years.

Saw how he grew professionally, how he developed. He is talented, smart, ambitious. Too ambitious, as it turned out.

But I believe that people can change, can realize their mistakes. Especially if there is the right person nearby. Such as you.

I didn’t know what to answer. His words sounded sincere. But can he be believed? I’ll think.

When Michael arrives, we’ll discuss everything. Of course. You have time until tomorrow.

Then I will have to act, regardless of your decision. We finished breakfast in silence. Then I was escorted back to the room.

This time the door was not locked. A small sign of trust. I sat on the bed, trying to gather my thoughts.

Michael will arrive soon. We’ll talk, decide what to do next. And now I can only wait.

Time dragged slowly. I walked around the room, looked out the window, tried to distract myself. Finally, about 11, knock on the door.

Yes, the door opened. On the threshold stood Michael. My brother, my protector, my closest person.

I rushed to him, hugged tightly. Michael! Finally! He hugged me in response, and for a moment it seemed to me that everything will be fine. That we will cope, find a way out of this tangled situation.

Emily, forgive me. For all this. I should have told you everything right away, not play these spy games with the listening device.

But I was afraid you wouldn’t believe. Would think that I’m just slandering John out of some jealousy or envy. It’s okay.

I understand. You wanted the best. We sat on the bed.

Michael looked tired, haggard. It was visible that he didn’t sleep all night. Tell me everything, I asked. From the beginning.

How did you get involved in all this story? Michael sighed, ran his hand through his hair. Three years ago, I was offered a job at Argos company. Good money, interesting tasks.

I agreed. Quickly realized that this is not an ordinary investment company. More precisely, not only investment.

Mark has many different businesses, different interests. Including not quite legal. Is he a criminal? Not quite.

Let’s say, he is a person who doesn’t always play by the rules. But he is not a gangster, not a killer. He is a businessman who sometimes crosses the law if it’s profitable for the cause.

And you work for such a person? You, always so principled, so honest. Michael smiled embarrassedly. Life is more complicated than it seems, Emily.

Not everything is black or white. There are many shades of gray. Mark is not ideal, but he is fair.

He pays well, appreciates professionalism, cares about his people. And yes, sometimes he violates the law. But never harms the innocent.

I shook my head. Didn’t recognize my brother. Before, he was so principled, so uncompromising.

And now justifies a person who sometimes violates the law. Okay, this is your choice. But what do I have to do with it? What does John have to do with it? John also works for Mark.

For five years already. Started as an ordinary analyst, now deputy director of finance. Very capable, very ambitious.

Too ambitious, as it turned out. Did you know him all this time? Knew where he works, what he does? Yes. Since I came to the company.

But couldn’t tell you. Official secret. Moreover, John himself asked not to tell you.

Said he doesn’t want to involve you in his affairs, wants to protect. Protect? From what? From the truth. From knowledge of what he really does.

Not only legal investing, if you understand what I mean. I understood. Too well understood. And what happened? Why did he decide to betray Mark, steal money, I don’t know exactly.

Perhaps decided that he deserves more. Perhaps tired of being always second, always on the sidelines. Perhaps the influence of this woman, Helen.

She has been processing him for a long time, suggesting that he is undervalued, that he can get more. You know Helen? Saw her several times. They didn’t particularly hide lately.

Thought no one knows, but in our company it’s hard to keep something secret. Too many eyes, too many ears. And how long? How long have they been together? Michael paused, obviously not wanting to cause me pain.

About a year. Maybe a little more. A year.

A whole year John cheated on me, met with another woman. And I noticed nothing. Blind, trusting fool.

And when did you learn about his plans? About stealing money, about escape, about a month ago. Accidentally intercepted his correspondence with some specialist on forged documents. Got alerted, started monitoring.

Then heard a conversation with Helen. They discussed details, sums, deadlines. I reported to Mark.

He decided not to hurry with the arrest, to gather more information. Find out who else is involved, where the money is, how they plan to withdraw them. And then you decided to connect me.

Advised to install the listening device. Yes. I knew you were offered a business trip to San Francisco.

It was the perfect opportunity. You leave, John relaxes, starts talking more freely. We get information.

And you? You learn the truth about your husband. The truth you deserve to know. I nodded.

Everything fit. But it didn’t make it easier. And what now? What does Mark suggest I do? Return to New York.

Pretend you know nothing. Gather information about John’s plans. Help stop him before he does the irreparable.

And in exchange, safety. For you, John, the whole family. Mark will make sure the money is returned to investors, and John gets off with minimal punishment.

Perhaps even avoid prison. The same words Mark told me. Word for word.

This alarmed. And if I refuse? Michael sighed. Then Mark will act himself.

Arrest John, hand the case to the police. John will go to prison for a long term. The article “Serious fraud” in particularly large size.

This is at least 5 years, maximum 10. And you think I should agree? Help the person who betrayed me, cheated on me, planned to leave? I think you should do what you think is right. But remember, Emily, this is still John.

The person you loved for 7 years. The father of your future children. Perhaps he deserves a second chance.

I shook my head. Didn’t recognize my brother. Before, he was so principled, so uncompromising.

And now persuades me to forgive the traitor, help him avoid deserved punishment. Michael, what’s with you? Why are you protecting him? After everything he did? The brother averted his gaze. I’m not protecting him.

I’m thinking about you. About your future. About how you will live further, if John ends up in prison.

You know how people treat wives of convicts. Especially for such articles. Condemnation, contempt, pity.

This will haunt you for years. And if you help Mark, everything can be solved quietly, without scandal, without public humiliation. He spoke sincerely, with pain.

I saw that he really worries about me. But something was wrong. Something alarmed me in his words, in his behavior.

I’ll think, I said finally. I need time. Of course.

But don’t drag too long. Time is short. John plans to act in a week.

On the 14th, I nodded. The strange behavior of my brother worried me more and more. He seemed to repeat Mark’s words, as if learned by some script.

Michael, can I trust you? He looked at me with surprise. Of course. I’m your brother.

I’m always on your side. And you really work for Mark? Of your own free will? Yes. This is a good job, interesting.

And Mark is a good boss, fair. Despite some features of his business. I nodded.

Perhaps I suspect my brother in vain. Perhaps he really just worries about me, wants to help. Good.

I’ll think everything over and give an answer tomorrow. Excellent. And now, perhaps we’ll take a walk? The garden is beautiful here, fresh air.

It’s useful for you. I agreed. We left the room, descended the stairs, passed through the hall, to the exit to the garden.

The guard at the entrance looked at us attentively, but didn’t stop. Apparently, Michael had access. The garden was really beautiful.

Well-groomed paths, trimmed bushes, flower beds. We walked slowly, enjoying the fresh air and relative freedom. How long have you known Mark? I asked, trying to get my brother talking.

Three years. Since I came to the company? And immediately became his trusted person? No, of course. First was an ordinary employee.

Then gradually earned trust. Solved complex tasks, proved his usefulness. Now I head the information security department.

Important position. And it doesn’t bother you. The specifics of his business? Michael paused, as if choosing words.

Bothers, of course. I’m not naive, Emily. I understand that not everything Mark does is legal.

But in this world, it’s hard to stay clean and achieve success. Especially in America. Especially in business.

Sometimes you have to choose the lesser evil. And Mark is the lesser evil? Yes. He’s not ideal, but he’s honest with his people…

Protects them, cares about them. Doesn’t abandon in trouble. This is rarity in our world, I nodded.

Michael spoke sincerely, with conviction. But still something was wrong. Something didn’t fit in this story.

We approached a small pond in the depths of the garden. Beautiful, quiet place. Bench by the water, weeping willows leaning over the water.

We sat on the bench. Michael, tell me the truth. The whole truth.

What is really happening? Why does Mark so want me to help? Why not just arrest John, hand the case to the police? The brother paused, looking at the water. Because it’s not only about John. There is someone else.

Someone higher, more important. Mark thinks that John doesn’t work only for himself. That behind him stands someone very influential.

And he needs evidence. The name of this person. So that’s what it is.

Finally something like the truth. And he thinks that I can learn this name. How? John never told me about his work, didn’t tell.

But perhaps, in your apartment, there are documents, recordings, something that can lead to this person. Something that John stores at home, considering this place safe. And if I find this, something, what then? Then Mark will act.

Arrest not only John, but also his patron. Return the money to investors. And you.

Protect you. From consequences, from scandal, from possible revenge. I nodded.

This sounded logical. More logical than everything I heard before. And if I refuse? What then? Michael sighed.

Then Mark will act himself. Arrest John, pressure him, trying to get the name of the patron. But without your help, the chances are less.

And John will surely go to jail. For a long time. And you think I should agree.

After everything he did, I think you should do what you think is right. But remember, Emily, the stakes are very high in this game. It’s not only about John, not only about you.

It’s about big politics, big money, lives of people. We sat silently, looking at the water. I pondered what I heard.

So, behind John stands someone influential. Some patron, who, perhaps, came up with the whole scheme with stealing money. And Mark needs to know who it is.

For what? To neutralize a competitor? To protect his business? Or for something else? I’ll think, I said finally. I’ll give an answer tomorrow. Michael nodded.

Good. And now, perhaps return to the house? It’s getting cool. We stood up and slowly went back to the house.

I looked at my brother, trying to understand if he is telling the truth. Everything he said sounded logical. But something still bothered me.

Something in his behavior, in his words, seemed strange, unnatural. Returning to the house, we found that Mark is waiting for us. He stood in the hall, talking on the phone.

Seeing us, ended the conversation and approached. How was the walk? Did you like the garden? Yes, very beautiful, I answered politely. Lunch will be in an hour.

Michael, are you staying? No, unfortunately, can’t. Affairs in the office. But I’ll return tomorrow, to learn Emily’s decision.

Mark nodded. Of course. I’ll order to prepare the car.

He stepped away, leaving us alone. Emily, think well, said Michael, lowering his voice. This is important.

Not only for you, for all of us. I understand. Don’t worry, I’ll make the right decision.

We hugged goodbye. I watched Michael leave, and a strange feeling of anxiety did not leave me. Something was wrong.

Something in his behavior, in his words, seemed fake, played. But what exactly, I couldn’t understand. After lunch, I returned to my room.

Sat on the bed, trying to gather my thoughts. What to do? Who to believe? How to proceed? If to believe Mark and Michael, John plans a large theft. Behind him stands some influential patron.

And I need to help find out who it is. In exchange, Mark promises safety to me, the possibility to avoid prison for John. But what if this is a lie? What if Mark manipulates me, uses me for some of his purposes? And Michael too.

What if he helps Mark not of his own will, but under duress? This would explain the strangeness of his behavior, the unnaturalness of his words. I walked around the room, trying to make a decision. Time passed.

Soon I need to give an answer. What will I say? Whose side to take? The phone rang in the door interrupted my thoughts. I flinched.

Yes. The door opened. Ian entered, the same one who brought me here.

Anastasia Sergeevna, you have a call. He handed me the phone. The same mobile, as yesterday.

Who is this? Your husband. I froze. John.

How did he learn, where I am? That I’m here? Took the phone, put to the ear. Hello? Emily. It’s me. Are you okay? His voice.

Such familiar, such dear. And at the same time such alien now, when I knew the truth. John.

How did you learn, where I am? Not important. The main thing is that you are alive, healthy. Emily, listen attentively.

Don’t believe Mark. Don’t believe anything he says. He is dangerous.

He uses you to get to me. And you? You didn’t use me? Didn’t lie to me for years? Didn’t cheat with some Helen? Didn’t plan to leave me, leave me to deal with the consequences of your crime? Silence. Then heavy sigh.

So you know. Know everything. Michael told? Not only Michael.

I myself. Myself heard, John. Heard, how you talked about me, about your plans. About how you don’t care what will be with me after your escape.

Emily, I can explain. Everything is not as it seems. Yes, I planned.

Certain actions. But not for myself. Not for profit.

I work for the government, for a special service. We investigate Mark’s activities, collect evidence of his crimes. What you heard was part of the legend, part of the image I created for years.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Now he came up with a new lie. Now he is a secret agent, working for the government? I don’t believe.

Not a single word. Emily, I swear to you. This is the truth.

I couldn’t tell earlier, couldn’t reveal the operation. But now, when you are in danger, I must. Mark is a criminal, Emily.

He launders money for large officials, finances illegal operations. We have been collecting evidence for five years already. And now, finally, close to completion.

His voice sounded sincere, convincing. But I knew too well what a good actor John can be. And Helen? She is also part of your legend? Part of the image? Pause, Helen colleague.

We work together. What you heard was a staging. We knew that Mark can listen, so we played roles.

And you also went to bed in the framework of the legend. Also for the credibility of the image. Another pause.

Emily, I understand how this looks. But believe, everything is not as it seems. I love you.

Always loved. Everything I did was for our future. For you to be safe.

I shook my head, although he couldn’t see it. I don’t believe. Not a single word.

I heard how you talked about me. Heard your voice, your intonations. This was not a game, not a staging.

This was you real. Emily, please. You are in danger.

Mark uses you to get to me. As soon as he gets what he wants, you will become unnecessary. A witness, from which need to get rid.

And you? You didn’t use me? Didn’t lie to me for years? Didn’t plan to leave? No. I swear to you, no. Everything I did was for us.

For our future. I was going to tell everything when the operation ends. Show you documents, evidence.

Explain. I didn’t know what to think. What if he is telling the truth? What if Mark is the criminal, and John is the secret agent? But how then to be with what I heard? With his words, with his plans? With Helen, finally? What do you want from me, John? Leave from there.

Find a way to escape. I’ll send people, they will help. You need only to exit the territory.

There will be a car, it will take you to a safe place. And if I don’t want? If I believe Mark more than you? Emily, please. You are in danger.

I can’t lose you. Can’t allow something to happen to you. His voice trembled.

Is it sincere? Does he really worry about me? I’ll think, I said finally. Give me time. No time, Emily.

Mark has already decided everything. As soon as he gets what he wants, you will become unnecessary. Please, leave from there.

Today at night. I’ll send people to the northern wall of the garden. There is a gate there, it is rarely guarded.

Be there at midnight. I’ll think, I repeated. Can’t promise. Emily, please.

I interrupted the conversation, returned the phone to Ian. Thank you. He nodded, went out, closed the door.

This time, didn’t lock. Again a sign of trust. I sat on the bed, trying to comprehend what I heard.

What if John is telling the truth? What if he really works for the government, investigates Mark’s activities? What if I’m in danger here? But how then to be with what I heard? With his words about escape, about new documents, about that he doesn’t care what will be with me. And with Helen, finally. Is it all a game, staging for listening? I didn’t know what to think.

Who to believe? Mark, who holds me in captivity, but promises safety? John, who lied to me for years, but swears in love? Michael, who behaves strangely, but remains my brother? Time passed. Soon dinner, then night. And the decision I must make? Stay or escape? Help Mark or John? To whom to entrust my fate? I didn’t know the answer.

Didn’t know how to proceed. But one was clear exactly. I will no longer blindly trust anyone.

Neither husband, nor brother, nor unfamiliar businessman. I will decide myself. And answer for my decisions also myself.

For dinner, Mark was unusually silent. Looked at me studying, as if trying to read my thoughts. “Have you made a decision, Anastasia Sergeevna?” He asked finally.

“Not yet. I need time”. Time is little.

John plans to act in a week. On the 14th. The same words that Michael said.

Almost verbatim. “I know. I’ll give an answer tomorrow, as promised”.

Mark nodded, didn’t insist anymore. We finished dinner in silence. Returning to the room, I sat on the bed, trying to make a decision.

What to do? Who to believe? How to proceed? If to believe Mark and Michael, John plans a large theft. Behind him stands some influential patron.

And I need to help find out who it is. In exchange, Mark promises safety to me, the possibility to avoid prison for John. If to believe John, everything is the opposite. Mark is the criminal, and John is the secret agent, investigating his activities.

And I need to escape, while it’s not too late. While Mark didn’t get what he wants, and didn’t get rid of the unnecessary witness. Who to believe? How to decide? I approached the window, looked at the garden.

Dark, only lanterns illuminate the paths. Security patrols the territory. Saw two men with flashlights, bypassing the perimeter.

Northern wall. Gate, which is rarely guarded. Midnight.

People who will help. I stepped away from the window, lay on the bed, closed my eyes. Need to decide.

Need to choose. Life doesn’t wait, doesn’t give time for reflection. Sometimes you have to act, even if not sure one hundred percent.

The clock showed 10 in the evening. Two hours to midnight. Two hours to the meeting at the gate, if I decide to trust John.

And if not? If I decide to stay, help Mark. What then? Tomorrow I’ll give consent, return to New York, will spy on my own husband.

Risk my life, my future. For what? For the sake of the person who holds me in captivity. Who lied to me, manipulated, conducted checks.

Or for the sake of the brother, who for some reason behaves strangely, unnaturally. Or for the sake of John, who, perhaps, deserves a second chance. No.

Not for their sake. For myself. For the truth.

For justice. For finally understanding what is happening around me. Who lies, who tells the truth.

Who is a friend, who is an enemy. The decision came suddenly, as if something clicked in my head. I knew what to do.

Knew how to proceed. And let it be risky, let it be dangerous, but this is my choice. My, and only my.

The clock showed 11.30. Time to act. I stood up from the bed, approached the door, cautiously opened it. The corridor is empty.

Quietly went out, closed the door behind me. Slowly, trying not to noise, went along the corridor to the stairs. The house seemed empty, lifeless.

Only the ticking of antique clocks, somewhere in the depths, violated the silence. I descended the stairs, crossed the hall, found the door leading to the garden. Locked.

Of course, doors are locked at night. But there must be another exit. Back door, exit for staff, something.

I looked around. Hall, living room, dining room. Somewhere there should be a kitchen.

And from the kitchen, surely there is an exit to the yard, for delivery of products, taking out garbage. Found the kitchen. Big, spacious, with modern equipment.

And the door. Ordinary door, leading outside. I approached it, pulled the handle.

Locked. But not with a key, but with a simple bolt. Pushed it away, pulled the handle again.

The door opened. Fresh night air rushed into the room. I went outside, cautiously closed the door behind me.

Found myself on a small platform, at the back entrance. From here the path led somewhere deep into the garden, bypassing the house. I went along the path, trying to move silently.

The moon illuminated the path, making lanterns unnecessary. Around was quiet, only rustle of leaves, on a light wind. The path led me to the main alley of the garden.

From here I could see the main buildings of the complex. The house where I was. Some other buildings, perhaps garages, or houses for staff.

And the wall. High stone wall, surrounding the territory. Northern wall.

Where is it? I looked around, trying to orient myself. The house behind me. So, if I stand facing the house, then north should be.

To the right? Or to the left? I never knew how to orient well. In the pocket of jeans, the phone vibrated. I flinched from unexpectedness.

Where is the phone from here? They took mine when they brought me here. Took the device out of the pocket. Not my phone.

Old model, button. The same one I talked to Michael and John. Someone planted it on me.

When? Why? On the screen message from unknown number. Northern wall, right in front of you. Go along it to the left…

You’ll see the gate. I looked around. Is someone watching me? Who sent the message? John? His people? Or this is Mark’s trap? Ahead indeed the wall was visible.

I went along it to the left, as the message advised. Went slowly, cautiously, constantly looking around. No one.

Silence. Only rustle of leaves and beat of own heart. In five minutes, I saw the gate.

Small, inconspicuous, almost hidden behind bushes. Approached closer. Locked, of course.

But the lock looked simple, old. Perhaps I can open. I examined the lock.

Ordinary padlock, nothing special. But without a key, can’t open. Or can? The phone vibrated again.

New message. Key under the stone to the right of the gate. I looked down.

To the right of the gate, indeed lay a stone. Big, flat. I bent down, lifted it.

Under it lay a key. Old, rusty, but apparently suitable for the lock. Someone thought everything out.

Someone knew that I would come here. Someone helped me. John? His people? Or this is Mark’s trap? I took the key, inserted into the lock.

Turned. The lock clicked, opened. I removed it, put aside, pulled the gate handle.

It opened with a quiet creak. Behind the gate darkness. Forest or park, can’t make out in the night.

I made a step forward, stopped. Looked back at Mark’s house, at the garden, at my temporary shelter, my temporary prison. Go or stay? Trust John, or Mark? Escape, or stay, and fight? The phone vibrated again.

Another message. Faster. You have little time.

I took a deep breath, stepped over the threshold of the gate, found myself outside Mark’s territory. Free? Or in even greater danger? In front of me was a narrow path, leading somewhere into the forest. I went along it, trying to move fast, but cautiously.

Dark, though eye out. Only the moon illuminated the path. In ten minutes, the trees parted, and I came out to a small clearing.

On it stood a car. Black SUV, without identification marks. Headlights off, engine not running.

I stopped at the edge of the clearing, not daring to approach closer. Who is in the car? John’s people, as he promised. Or Mark’s people, who set a trap? Or generally someone third? The car door opened.

A person came out of it. In the darkness, can’t make out the face, only silhouette. Tall, athletic build.

Anastasia Sergeevna? He called me. Voice unfamiliar, low, with hoarseness. “Yes,” I answered, not moving from the place.

“John Johnson sent me. We need to drive. Fast”.

I still hesitated. Approach? Get in the car with a stranger? Or turn back, return to Mark’s house, pretend that nothing happened? Anastasia Sergeevna, please. Time is little.

They can notice your absence at any moment. He is right. If I want to leave, need to do it now.

Later may be late. I made a step forward, then another. Approached the car.

The person opened the rear door for me, gestured to get in. I looked inside. No one in the salon.

Only the driver behind the wheel, another stranger. “Where are we going?” — I asked, still not daring to get in. “To a safe place.

John Johnson will explain everything when you arrive”. I nodded, got in the car. The person closed the door behind me, walked around the car, sat in the front passenger seat.

“Let’s go,” he commanded the driver. The car started, slowly rolled along the dirt road leading through the forest. Headlights didn’t turn on, apparently fearing to give themselves away.

I looked out the window, trying to understand where we are going. But in the darkness, all trees seemed the same, all turns of the road similar. “How long to drive?” I asked, trying to defuse the tension. “Forty minutes,” answered the man in the front seat.

“Rest”. The day was hard. That’s for sure.

The day was hard. And the previous one too. My whole life turned upside down in some two days.

Everything I believed in turned out to be a lie. Everyone I trusted turned out to be not who they seemed. Husband-cheater and criminal.

Brother-manipulator and traitor. And I am now a spy, double agent, toy in the hands of a person I hardly know. Well, if this is my fate, I’ll accept it.

I’ll play this game. And, perhaps, even win. After all, I have nothing to lose.

Except illusions. And I have already lost them. I leaned back in the seat, closed my eyes.

Didn’t plan to sleep, just wanted to rest, gather my thoughts. But fatigue took its toll. I fell into sleep, shallow, anxious, filled with fragments of nightmares.

Woke up from the car stopping. Opened my eyes, looked out the window. We were in the city.

Apparently in San Francisco. Historic center, old buildings, bay shining in the lunar light. Arrived? I asked, straightening in the seat.

Yes, nodded the man, whose name I didn’t know yet. Get out. Fast.

Something in his voice alarmed me. Tension, sharpness. Something is wrong.

I got out of the car. We stood at some old house in the center of the city. Dark windows, quiet street.

Late night, almost morning. The man led me to the entrance. Opened the door with some key, let me go ahead.

We climbed the stairs to the third floor. He stopped at one of the doors, again took out the key, opened. Go in, he said, turning on the light in the hallway.

I entered the apartment. Small, but cozy. Hallway, living room, visible door leading, apparently, to the bedroom.

Everything clean, tidy, but impersonal. Rental apartment, not residential. Settle in, the man said, passing into the living room.

Bathroom there, kitchen here. There is food in the fridge, you can have dinner or breakfast, as you like better. John Johnson will be in the morning.

Thank you, I nodded, looking around. Are you leaving? Yes. I have other tasks.

Don’t worry, the apartment is safe. No one knows you’re here. He headed to the exit, but at the door stopped, turned to me.

And, Anastasia Sergeevna. In your place, I wouldn’t ask extra questions. About Helen and the rest.

In our work, curiosity can be dangerous. Even deadly dangerous. Remember that.

He went out, closed the door behind him. I heard the lock click. Locked? He locked me.

Rushed to the door, checked. No, not locked. Just slammed.

I returned to the living room, sat on the sofa. What’s happening? Who to believe? What to do next? If John is telling the truth, and he is really a secret agent, then I made the right choice. Escaped from Mark, ended up in a safe place.

Soon the husband will arrive, explain everything, show evidence. And we will be together again, as before. Or not quite as before, but at least without lie.

If Mark is telling the truth, and John is a criminal, then I made a terrible mistake. Escaped from the person who wanted to help, ended up in the hands of a criminal. And what will be now? What will John do with me, when he understands that I know the truth?

I didn’t know the answer.

Didn’t know what to think, what to do. Fatigue rolled in waves. Eyes closed by themselves.

Decided to lie down, sleep a little. Morning is wiser than evening, as grandmother said. In the morning John will arrive.

In the morning everything will clear up. So or otherwise. Went to the bedroom.

Big bed, neatly made. Wardrobe, nightstand, mirror. Everything simple, functional.

I took off the jacket, threw it on the chair. Lay on top of the blanket, without undressing. Just in case, need to be ready to act quickly.

Sleep came instantly. Fell into darkness, without dreams, without thoughts. Just switched off, like a burnt-out light bulb.

Woke up from the sound of the opening door. Opened my eyes, not immediately understanding where I am. Then remembered.

Apartment in San Francisco. Escape from Mark. Waiting for John.

In the doorway stood a man. Tall, in a dark suit. Face not visible, only silhouette against the light from the corridor.

John? I called, rising on the bed. No, Anastasia Sergeevna. Not John.

Voice familiar. Very familiar. I turned on the table lamp to see better.

Mark? Yes, it was he. Mark Ashford in person. Stood in the doorway of the bedroom, looked at me with a light smile.

How did he end up here? How did he find me? What are you doing here? How did you find me? Find? Anastasia Sergeevna, I always knew where you are. From the very beginning. I didn’t understand.

What is he talking about? You followed me? Installed a bug? Mark shook his head, the smile became wider. Not quite. Let’s say, you were where I wanted you to be.

Always. I looked at him, trying to comprehend his words. What does he mean? You? You planned all this? Phone in the pocket, message, key under the stone, car? Of course.

I told you I would arrange a check for you. Wanted to make sure I can trust you. And you passed it.

Brilliantly passed. I couldn’t believe my ears. All this was set up.

All my escape was part of some Mark’s plan. But why? Why these games? These checks, I already explained. I needed to make sure you are on our side.

That you won’t betray us, won’t run to warn John. And you proved it. Escaped, thinking you act against me, but in fact did exactly what I planned.

I shook my head. This is some surrealism. This person plays with me like a cat with a mouse.

And gets pleasure from this, judging by his smile. And the man? And the driver? They are also your people? Of course. Ian and Dmitry, my employees.

Very reliable. But why then Ian? The man didn’t know about Helen. When I asked about her, he was surprised.

Mark frowned. This was a mistake on his side. He should have played better.

But this is even good. You once again received confirmation that John lied to you. That Helen is not part of any team, doesn’t work for any government.

She is just your husband’s mistress, his accomplice in the planned crime. I was silent, trying to digest what I heard. So all this was set up.

All my escape, all my freedom, were illusion. I was always under Mark’s control, did exactly what he wanted. And what now? What next? Now, when I made sure of your loyalty, we can move further.

You will return to New York, to John. Say you were urgently recalled from the business trip. And will be our eyes and ears in his house.

Will collect information about his plans, about his accomplices. Especially about the mysterious patron who stands behind him. I sighed.

We returned to where we started. Mark again proposes me to spy on my own husband. And now, after all these games, these manipulations, I must agree.

And if I refuse? If I say no? Mark shrugged. Then I will act myself. Arrest John, pressure him, trying to get information about the patron.

But the chances are less. And for John this will end badly. Very badly.

You said he can avoid prison if I help. Is this true? Yes. If we get the name of the patron, I can arrange so that John gets off with minimal punishment.

Perhaps even a conditional term. But only if you help. I looked at him, trying to understand if he is telling the truth.

After all these games, these manipulations, I didn’t know if he can be believed. But I had no choice. Either help Mark, or lose everything.

Husband, freedom, future. Good, I said finally. I agree.

I’ll help you. Mark smiled, satisfied. Excellent.

Then the plan is such. Today you rest here. Tomorrow morning, we will take you to the airport, and you will fly to New York.

At home, tell John that the business trip ended earlier. Come up with a reason. Colleague’s illness, change in management’s plans, anything.

John will be unpleasantly surprised, but won’t show it. He doesn’t want to arouse suspicions. And further? Further you will live ordinary life.

Loving wife, suspecting nothing. But at the same time will look for information about John’s plans, about his accomplices, about his mysterious patron. Everything you find, will transmit to me through Michael.

Michael also participates in this. He knows about your checks? Of course. Michael is my most trusted employee.

He knows everything. So, the brother also betrayed me. Participated in these games, these manipulations.

Knew I was in danger and did nothing. On the contrary, played along with Mark. And if John suspects something? If he understands that I spy on him? Won’t understand.

He is too confident in himself, too confident in his power over you. He thinks you blindly trust him, that you will never doubt him. This is his weakness, his vulnerable place.

And we will use it. I nodded. Mark is right.

John was always confident in my devotion, in my love. Never thought that I can doubt him, can suspect something wrong. This is his weakness.

And mine too. And how long will this last? How much time do we have? A week. Maximum 10 days.

On the 14th John plans to act. By this time, we must have all the necessary information. And then? What will be with me then? Then you will be free.

You can start a new life. Without John, without his lie, without his betrayal. With clean conscience and with my protection.

I promise. I looked at him, trying to understand if he is telling the truth. After all these games, these manipulations, I didn’t know if he can be believed.

But I had no choice. Good, I said. I’ll do everything you ask. Mark smiled, satisfied.

Excellent. And now rest. Tomorrow is an important day.

He went out from the bedroom, closed the door behind him. I remained alone, sitting on the bed, trying to comprehend all that happened for these crazy days. My life turned upside down.

Everything I believed in turned out to be a lie. Everyone I trusted turned out to be not who they seemed. Husband-cheater and criminal.

Brother-manipulator and traitor. And I am now a spy, double agent, toy in the hands of a person I hardly know. Well, if this is my fate, I’ll accept it.

I’ll play this game. And, perhaps, even win. After all, I have nothing to lose.

Except illusions. And I have already lost them. I lay on the bed, closed my eyes.

Need to rest, gather strength. Tomorrow begins a new chapter of my life. Chapter full of dangers, intrigues and lie.

But I’ll cope. I must cope.

For myself.

For the truth. For justice.

Sleep didn’t come.

I lay with open eyes, looking at the ceiling, sorting in my head the events of recent days. Listening device, John’s confession, Mark’s house, escape that turned out not an escape, but another manipulation. And now a new role of spy, double agent.

How did I roll to this? How from an ordinary woman, English teacher, turned into a participant of some spy drama? All because of John? Because of his ambitions, his greed, his lie? Or because of Mark? Because of his games, his manipulations, his own plans, about which I can only guess? Or because of myself? Because of my blindness, my trustfulness, my inability to see the truth, even when it is right in front of my eyes? Probably, because of everything together. Life rarely is simple, rarely divides into black and white. Usually this is shades of gray, where truth and lie are intertwined so tightly that can’t distinguish one from the other, but now I know the truth.

Or part of the truth. And will act accordingly. Will play the role that was imposed on me.

But at the same time will look for my path, my truth, my justice. With such thoughts I finally fell asleep. Sleep was anxious, full of nightmares and strange visions.

But when I woke up in the morning, I felt rested. Ready for a new day. To a new life.

Knock on the door. I sat on the bed, fixed the rumpled clothes. Yes? The door opened.

Michael entered. My brother, my former protector, my. Traitor? Good morning, he said, smiling.

As if nothing happened. As if he didn’t participate in all these games, these manipulations. How did you sleep? Normal, I answered dryly.

Considering the circumstances. Michael sighed, sat on the edge of the bed. Emily, I know you’re angry.

And you have the right. But believe, everything I did was for you. For your safety.

Really? And it seemed to me for Mark. For his plans, his games. Mark is not as bad as you think.

Yes, he is tough, calculating. Yes, sometimes crosses the law. But he is fair.

And he really wants to help you. I shook my head. Didn’t believe.

Couldn’t believe after everything that happened. If you really wanted to help me, you would have told the truth from the beginning. Wouldn’t play these spy games with listening device, with checks, with fake escapes.

I tried to protect you. Wanted you to see the truth about John yourself. So that there were no doubts that I just slander your husband, out of some jealousy or envy.

Perhaps there was a share of truth in this. But still. Manipulations remain manipulations, even if they are from good intentions…

Okay, what’s done is done. What now? Mark said, I fly to New York today. Yes, the ticket is already ordered.

Flight at two in the afternoon. You have time to freshen up, have breakfast. Then we’ll go to the airport.

I nodded. The plan is simple. Return to New York, to John.

Pretend I know nothing. And at the same time spy on him, collect information for Mark. Simple, but dangerous.

And if John suspects something? If he understands that I know the truth? Won’t understand. You’re smart, cautious. You’ll be able to play the role.

And we will be nearby, will monitor, will protect you. I wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that everything will be fine.

But after everything that happened, trust was undermined. Not only to John, but also to Michael. And to Mark.

And to the whole world. Good, I said, standing up from the bed. I’m ready.

Or be ready in half an hour. I need to shower. Michael nodded, left the bedroom, leaving me alone.

I went to the bathroom, turned on the water. Hot, almost burning. Wanted to wash off all this madness of recent days.

All these games, manipulations, lie. Wanted to become clean, new. Ready for what awaits ahead.

After the shower, I felt better. Physically, at least. Morally, it was still heavy.

But I’ll cope. I’m strong. Stronger than I thought.

In the living room, Michael was waiting for me. Sat on the sofa, typing something on the phone. Seeing me, put aside the phone, smiled.

You look better. Will you have breakfast? Yes, won’t refuse. We went to the kitchen.

Michael took products from the fridge, started cooking scrambled eggs. I sat at the table, watching him. My brother, whom I knew all my life.

And who, as it turned out, I didn’t know at all. Michael, tell me the truth. The whole truth.

What is really happening? Why does Mark need me? Why not just arrest John, hand the case to the police? The brother sighed, flipped the scrambled eggs on the pan. I already said. It’s not only about John.

There is someone else. Someone higher, more important. Mark thinks John doesn’t work only for himself.

That behind him stands someone very influential. And he needs evidence. The name of this person.

And he thinks that I can learn this name. How? John never told me about his work. Didn’t tell.

But perhaps, in your apartment, there are documents, recordings, something that can lead to this person. Something that John stores at home, considering this place safe. And you are the only one who can search there, without arousing suspicions.

I nodded. This sounded logical. More logical than everything else.

And who is this person? Does Mark have suspicions? The brother paused, laying out the scrambled eggs on the plate. There are. But he doesn’t say.

Even to me. Too dangerous. Such an influential person? Yes.

Very influential. And very dangerous. That’s why we act so cautiously.

That’s why all these checks, all these games. Mark had to be sure that he can trust you. I nodded.

Began to understand. Not justify, no. But understand the logic of Mark, his actions, his methods.

And if I find the name of this person, what then? Then Mark will act. Arrest not only John, but also his patron. Return the money to investors.

And protect you. From consequences. From scandal.

From revenge. I nodded. This sounded convincing.

And John? What will be with him? Depends on him. If he cooperates, helps us take the patron, then can get off with light punishment.

Perhaps even conditional term. If not, will go to jail. For a long time. I started eating, pondering what I heard.

Everything fit. Mark’s logic, his actions, his methods. Tough, manipulative, but logical.

From his point of view. And you believe him? Believe that he will keep his word? Protect me? Help John avoid serious punishment? The brother looked me straight in the eyes. Yes.

Believe. Mark is tough, calculating. But he keeps his word.

Always. I nodded. If Michael believes Mark, perhaps I should too.

Despite all the games, all the manipulations. After all, I have no choice. No other path.

Good, I said. I’ll do everything necessary. Help you get the name of this person. But then you fulfill your part of the deal.

Protect me. And help John avoid prison. I promise, nodded Michael.

Everything will be exactly so. We finished breakfast in silence. Then got ready, went to the airport.

On the way, Michael instructed me what to say to John, how to behave, what to look for. I listened attentively, memorized. My life depended on this.

At the airport, Michael escorted me to check-in, huggedgoodbye. Be careful, he said. And remember, I’m always in touch.

Always ready to help. Thank you, I hugged him in response. Despite everything, he is still my brother.

The only close person left to me. I’ll cope. Check-in, screening, boarding.

Everything is like in a fog. I moved on autopilot, thinking about what awaits me in New York. About the meeting with John.

About the role I have to play. About the risk I’m exposed to. The flight passed quickly.

I didn’t even notice how we landed. Internally was ready that John will meet me at the airport. Surprise, flowers, hugs.

Husband meeting wife returned from business trip. Perfect picture for random witnesses.

But in the arrival hall, he wasn’t there.

Neither him, nor anyone else who could be sent to meet me. I was alone. Took a taxi, went home.

On the way, tried to gather my thoughts, prepare for the meeting with John. What will I say? How to explain my early return? How to behave, knowing the truth about him, about his plans, about his betrayal? Taxi stopped at my house. I paid, got out.

Looked at the windows of our apartment. Light is on. So, John is home.

Waiting for me. Knows that I return. Or this will be a surprise for him? Ascended by elevator to our floor.

Approached the door, took out the keys. Hesitated a second, gathering spirit. Then opened the door, entered.

John. I’m home, silence. Then sound of steps from the living room.

And here he is, my husband. Person I loved seven years. Person whom, as I thought, I knew better than anyone in the world.

And who turned out to be completely stranger, unfamiliar. Emily? Surprise on his face was sincere. What are you doing here? Why returned so early? I smiled, trying to make the smile look natural.

Approached, hugged him, kissed on the cheek. As usual, as always. As if nothing happened, nothing changed.

The project closed. Suddenly, without warning. Some problems with financing.

All of us were recalled. Wanted to make you a surprise, so didn’t call in advance. John hugged me in response, but I felt tension in his body, in his arms.

He didn’t expect me. Was not ready for my return. This violated his plans.

Wow. A real surprise. I’m so glad you returned, liar.

Now, when I knew the truth, I saw falseness in his smile, in his words, in his hugs. How could I be so blind before? How could I not notice the obvious? I’m glad too, I said, stepping away. Terribly missed you, the home.

San Francisco is beautiful, but home is better. Of course, home is better, John smiled, but his eyes remained wary. Are you hungry? Want something? No, snacked on the plane.

But won’t refuse tea. Terribly tired. Flight, taxi, all this fuss.

Of course, now I’ll make. We went to the kitchen. John put the kettle, took out cups.

I sat at the table, watching him. My husband. Such familiar and such stranger at the same time.

How are you? What’s new at work? I asked, trying to sound relaxed. Everything as usual. Work, home, work.

Nothing interesting. Liar. Liar.

Liar. Every his word was lie. Not as usual, but preparation for a large theft.

Not work-home-work, but meeting with mistress, with accomplices, planning escape. And I have so many impressions, I said, smiling. San Francisco is so beautiful, especially now, in spring.

Though the weather is capricious, of course. Then rain, then sun. I talked about trifles, about weather, about the city, about work.

John nodded, smiled, asked questions. We drank tea, talked, like an ordinary married couple. As if nothing happened, nothing changed.

But everything changed. Everything was different. I saw him through, saw falseness in his smile, in his words, in his gestures.

And he, perhaps, felt my tension, my unnaturalness, my game. “You look tired,” he said finally. “Maybe lie down to rest? And I’ll unpack your things, prepare dinner”.

Yes, good idea. I’m really tired. I stood up from the table, approached him, kissed on the cheek.

As usual, as always. As if nothing happened, nothing changed. “Rest.

I’ll wake you for dinner”. I went to the bedroom, lay on the bed. Our bed, where we slept together for seven years.

Where, perhaps, he made love with Helen, when I was not home. Where he built plans of betrayal, deception, escape. Disgusting.

But I must endure. Must play the role. For myself.

For the truth. For justice.

I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep.

In fact, sleep didn’t come. Head was full of thoughts, plans, fears. What to do next? How to find evidence of John’s connection with the mysterious patron? How not to give myself away, my knowledge, my game? Didn’t know the answers.

But was ready to look for them. Was ready to go to the end. For myself.

For the truth. For justice.

And, perhaps, for John too. The person I once loved. Whom, perhaps, I still love, despite everything.

The first evening at home passed in a strange, tense atmosphere. We had dinner, talked about trifles, watched TV. Like an ordinary married couple.

As if nothing happened, nothing changed. But everything changed. Everything was different.

Every word, every gesture, every look, had a double bottom, hidden meaning. We played in front of each other, pretended, lied. He didn’t know that I know the truth.

I knew that he lies. And we both smiled, hugged, spoke about love. At night it was even worse.

He wanted closeness, intimacy. Naturally, after all I returned from a business trip, we missed each other. I couldn’t refuse without explanations, without reasons.

This would cause suspicions. Therefore I allowed. Closed my eyes, imagined that this is someone else.

Not John. Not the traitor. Not the liar.

After he fell asleep, hugging me. I lay without sleep, looking at the ceiling. Thought about what to do further.

How to find evidence of John’s connection with the mysterious patron. How not to give myself away, my knowledge, my game. In the morning, when John left for work, I started searches.

Cautiously, methodically, not leaving traces. Checked his desk, computer, phone. Nothing suspicious.

Everything clean, tidy, without compromising materials. Of course, he wouldn’t keep important documents in plain sight. He is smart, cautious.

There must be something hidden, secret place. Safe? Cache? External information carrier, hidden somewhere. I continued to search.

Day after day, hour after hour, when John was at work. Methodically, thoroughly, not leaving traces. Checked all cabinets, all drawers, all nooks.

Tapped walls, floors, looking for voids. Looked into all possible places where something important can be hidden. Nothing.

Absolutely nothing. Every evening, Michael called me under the guise of an ordinary conversation of brother with sister. Asked how things are, what’s new.

I answered with general phrases, nothing specific. We used code words, phrases that meant “found nothing”, “continue searches”, “everything is okay”. Simple, but effective system.

John didn’t arouse suspicions, didn’t show that something is wrong. Was the same as always. Caring, attentive, loving.

Lied so skillfully, so naturally, that sometimes I myself began to doubt. Maybe I’m wrong? Maybe Mark deceived me? Maybe John really works for the government, investigates Mark’s activities? But then I remembered the recording. His voice, his words, his plans.

If lucky, she’ll get off with interrogations.

If not, perhaps even go to jail as an accomplice. In any case, I don’t care.

This was not pretense, not a game for listening. This was the real John. Cold, calculating, ready to sacrifice me for his plans.

No, I’m not wrong. And Mark didn’t deceive me. At least not in this.

John is really a traitor, criminal. And I must find evidence of his connection with the mysterious patron. Must help Mark.

For myself. For the truth. For justice.

Days passed. 5, 6, 7. I continued searches, but without result. John continued his game, his pretense.

Michael continued to call, ask, what’s new. I continued to answer nothing, continue searches, everything is okay. Time was running out.

The 14th was approaching. The day when John planned to act. The day when everything should be decided.

And then, on the eighth day, I found it. Completely by accident, not where I was looking. Not in a cache, not in a safe, not on an external carrier.

And in the most obvious, most open place. There, where no one would think to look. In the photo album.

In an ordinary family photo album, which stood on the bookshelf in the living room. Among photos of our wedding, our vacations, our happy moments, between the pages was hidden a small sheet of paper. Folded in four, almost unnoticeable.

I unfolded it, read. And froze from shock. It was a note.

Just a few words, written by hand. Everything is ready. Waiting for confirmation.

S. V. S. V. Initials. Name and patronymic. Surname and name.

Code designation. I didn’t know. But this was the first clue.

The first trace leading to John’s mysterious patron. I photographed the note on the phone, carefully put it back between the pages of the album. Exactly as it was.

No traces, no changes. In the evening Michael called. Usual conversation, usual questions.

But this time I answered differently. Used the code phrase meaning “found something”. Michael understood, said he will come tomorrow.

Just to visit sister, nothing special, John didn’t suspect anything. Was the same as always. Caring, attentive, loving.

Dinner, conversation, TV. Ordinary evening of an ordinary married couple. As if nothing happened, nothing changed.

But everything changed. I found the first clue. The first trace leading to John’s mysterious patron.

And tomorrow I’ll transmit this information to Michael. To Mark. And we will be one step closer to the truth.

To justice. And while I continued to play my role. Smiled, talked, pretended that everything is normal.

That I know nothing, suspect nothing. That I’m the same trusting, loving wife, whom John could manipulate for years. But inside I was different.

Strong, decisive, ready to go to the end. For myself. For the truth.

For justice. And, perhaps, for John too. The person I once loved.

The person whom, perhaps, I still love, despite everything. Michael arrived the next day, as promised. Just to visit sister, nothing special.

John was at work, we could talk calmly. I showed Michael the photo of the note, told where I found it. He carefully studied the image, thoughtfully shook his head.

S. V. He muttered. Interesting. Mark will be pleased.

This is the first concrete clue. Do you know who it could be? Do these initials mean something to you? Michael shrugged. There are several versions.

But Mark doesn’t share details. Even with me. I nodded.

Mark was cautious, didn’t trust completely even his closest employees. Perhaps this helped him survive in his dangerous business. What next? I asked. What to do to me? Continue searches.

This is a good clue, but we need more. Concrete evidence of John’s connection with this. S. V. Documents, recordings of conversations, anything.

I’m looking. Every day, every minute, when John is not home. But I find nothing.

He is cautious, doesn’t keep anything compromising at home. There must be something. Otherwise why this note in the photo album? Why risk, keep such evidence at home? Michael was right.

There must be something else. Something I missed, didn’t notice. Need to search further, more thoroughly.

And faster. Time was left less and less. I’ll continue searches, I promised. But time is little.

The 14th is the day after tomorrow. I know. Therefore, we activate observation.

We’ll install additional cameras, listening devices. We’ll monitor every step of John’s. He may notice.

He is cautious, attentive. Won’t notice. We are professionals.

I nodded. Hoped that Michael is right. That Mark and his people are really professionals.

That they will be able to protect me, if something goes wrong. And what about the photo album? I asked. Perhaps worth taking it? Study more thoroughly? There may be more evidence. Michael shook his head.

No, leave everything as is. If John notices the disappearance of the album, he may suspect something. We can’t risk.

I agreed. Michael was right. Can’t risk, can’t arouse suspicions.

Need to continue the game, continue to pretend. To the very end. Michael left, promising to transmit the information to Mark.

I remained alone, continuing searches. Thoroughly, methodically, not leaving traces. Searched everywhere where something hidden, secret could be.

But found nothing. John returned from work as usual. Asked how the day passed, what’s new.

I told about Michael’s visit, about our conversation. Nothing special, ordinary family matters. John nodded, smiled, asked questions.

Like an ordinary married couple. As if nothing happened, nothing changed. But everything changed.

Everything was different. Every word, every gesture, every look had a double bottom, hidden meaning. We played in front of each other, pretended, lied.

And I didn’t know who will win in this game. Who will be the best actor, the best liar. In the evening, when John fell asleep, I again took out the photo album.

Cautiously, trying not to noise, took it off the shelf, brought to the bathroom. Locked the door, turned on the light. Began to flip page by page, photo by photo…

Looking for something that could be a clue, indication, proof. And found. Not a note, no.

Something more interesting, more significant. On one of the photos taken at the corporate party of Mark’s company, about a year ago. Group shot, many people.

John among them, smiling, satisfied. And next to him a person whom I didn’t recognize right away. Tall, representative, in an expensive suit.

I peered into the face of this person. And suddenly understood why it seems familiar. I saw him on TV.

Many times. This was a famous politician, occupying a high post in the government. A person about whom they spoke as a possible candidate for presidents at the next elections.

Steven Victor Patterson. S. V. Coincidence? Or is this the mysterious patron of John’s? The person standing behind the planned crime? I photographed the shot on the phone, carefully put the album back on the shelf. Exactly as it was.

No traces, no changes. Heart beat like crazy. I just found a possible connection between John and a very influential, very dangerous person.

Connection that could explain much. And which could be exactly what Mark was looking for. But what to do with this information? Call Michael in the middle of the night? Risky.

John may wake up, hear the conversation. Wait until morning? Also risky. Every hour counts, time is less and less.

I decided to send the photo in the messenger. Short message, only photo, without explanations. Michael is smart, he will understand.

And will transmit the information to Mark. Sent, deleted the message from my phone. No traces, no evidence.

Then returned to the bedroom, lay next to John. He slept, not suspecting that his secret is revealed. That his connection with S.V., with Steven Victor Patterson, is no longer a secret.

I closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep. But sleep didn’t come. Too many thoughts, too many questions.

What will be further? How will Mark react to this information? What will happen to John? With me? With us all? Didn’t know. Could only wait.

And hope that everything will end well. For me. For John.

For all of us. In the morning John left for work as usual. Kissed goodbye, said he loves, that he will return in the evening. Like an ordinary loving husband.

As if nothing happened, nothing changed. As soon as the door closed behind him, I called Michael. He answered after the first beep, as if waiting for my call.

“You saw the photo?” “Yes”. “He wants to talk to you. Personally.

Today”. “Today? But how? I can’t just leave, disappear”. John will suspect something.

“Say you’re going to a friend. Or to me. Come up with something.

This is important, Emily. Very important”. I agreed.

What else could I do? Mark wants to talk, means I must come. Too much depends on this. My life, my freedom, my safety.

Good. Where and when? At three. In the cafe “Nostalgia” on Main Street.

Know such? Yes, know. Excellent. Mark will be waiting for you there.

Alone. Without security, without escort. Just a conversation.

I nodded, although Michael couldn’t see it on the phone. Good. I’ll be there.

All day I spent in tension, preparing for the meeting with Mark. What will he say? What will ask to do? How will react to my find? At 2.30 I left the house, went to Main Street. Cafe “Nostalgia” was a small, cozy establishment, in old American style.

Tables with white tablecloths, vintage photos on the walls, quiet classical music. Mark was already waiting for me. Sat at a table in the corner, drank coffee, viewed something on the phone.

Seeing me, put aside the phone, stood up, smiled. “Anastasia Sergeevna, glad to see you. Sit down, please”.

I sat opposite him, tense, wary. Whatever Michael said, I couldn’t fully trust this person. Not after all his games, all his manipulations.

“You wanted to see me,” — I said, not wasting time on greeting. “Yes. Wanted to thank personally.

You did excellent work. The photo you sent. This is exactly what we were looking for”.

Confirmation of John’s connection with Steven Victor Patterson. So, I was right? S. V. This is Steven Victor? Yes. We suspected this for a long time, but had no evidence.

Now, thanks to you, they are. I nodded, feeling a strange mixture of pride and anxiety. Pride that I was able to find what Mark was looking for.

Anxiety for what this means for John. For me. For all of us.

And what now? What will be further? Mark sipped coffee, looked at me attentively. Now we act. Arrest John, present him evidence of his connection with Patterson.

Force to cooperate, give testimony against his patron. And then? Then the real game begins. Big game.

With very high stakes. I listened, not interrupting. Mark spoke confidently, decisively.

A person who knows what he is doing, has a plan, strategy. And what will be with me? With John, with you everything will be fine. You fulfilled your part of the deal, now it’s my turn.

You will be under my protection. New identity, new life, new beginning. If you want, of course.

If not, you can just return to your usual life. Without John, without his lie, without his betrayal. And John? What will be with him? Mark paused, as if deciding how much can be told.

This depends on him. If he cooperates, gives testimony against Patterson, he can get off with light punishment. Perhaps even conditional term.

If not, he’ll go to jail. For a long time. I nodded.

Everything as Michael promised. Everything as we agreed. Mark keeps his word.

At least for now. When do you plan to arrest him? Today in the evening. When he returns from work? In your apartment.

I flinched. In our apartment? But. Don’t worry, you won’t be there.

You will stay here, with my people. They will take care of your safety. And when everything ends, I will personally inform you of the results, I didn’t know what to say.

Everything happens so fast, so unexpectedly. Yesterday I was a spy, double agent in my own husband’s house. And today everything ends.

John will be arrested, I will be protected, and a new life will begin. Without John, without his lie, without his betrayal. Do you have questions? Asked Mark, seeing my confusion.

Yes. Many. But the main one.

Why are you so sure that John will cooperate? That he will give testimony against Patterson? He may refuse, may deny everything. Mark smiled. Cold, calculating.

We have ways of persuasion. Very effective ways. I didn’t ask what he means.

Didn’t want to know the details. Some things are better to leave in ignorance. And one more question.

Why Patterson? Why does he need all this? He is a successful politician, possible candidate for presidents. Why risk career, reputation for some money? Mark shook his head. It’s not about money, Anastasia Sergeevna.

More precisely, not only about money. It’s about power. About influence.

About control. Patterson wants to become president. And for this, resources are needed.

Big resources. And he extracts them by all available ways. Legal and not very.

I nodded. Began to understand the scale of what is happening. This is not just corporate fraud, not just money theft.

This is big politics, big ambitions, big plans. And John, my husband, turned out to be in the center of all this. Pawn in the game of the mighty of this world.

What do I need to do now? I asked, trying to gather my thoughts. Nothing. Just wait here.

My people will take care of you. When everything ends, I’ll contact you. I nodded.

I had no choice. I went too far to turn back. Now I can only wait.

And hope that everything will end well. For me. For John.

For all of us. Mark stood up, put money for coffee on the table. I have to go.

Need to prepare for the operation. Don’t worry, Anastasia Sergeevna. Everything will be fine.

You made the right choice, believing me. And I won’t let you down. He left, leaving me alone at the table.

I looked after him, thinking about what will happen in the evening. How John will react when arrested? Will he resist? Will he deny everything? Or break, start giving testimony against Patterson? Didn’t know. Could only wait.

And hope that Mark will keep his word. That he will protect me, as promised. That he will help John avoid prison, if he cooperates? To the table approached a young man. Tall, athletic build, in a dark suit.

Anastasia Sergeevna? My name is Dmitry. I’m from Mark Ashford. He asked to take care of you.

I nodded. Another of Mark’s people. Another guard, bodyguard, overseer.

Call it what you want. What do I need to do? Nothing special. Just wait.

We’ll go to a safe place, where you can rest, while everything doesn’t end. I nodded again. Stood up, took the bag, followed Dmitry to the exit.

On the street, a car was waiting for us. Black SUV, like the one they drove me to San Francisco. Or the same one.

Can’t tell, they all look alike. I sat in the back seat, Dmitry next to me. Behind the wheel was another man I hadn’t seen before.

The car started, merged into the stream of New York traffic. Where are we going? I asked, looking out the window. To a safe place, repeated Dmitry.

Don’t worry, Anastasia Sergeевна. Everything is under control. I leaned back in the seat, closed my eyes.

Fatigue rolled in waves. The last days were too tense, too emotional. Constant game, constant pretense, constant fear of being exposed.

This exhausts, depletes, empties. But soon everything will end. Today in the evening John will be arrested.

He either will cooperate, or go to prison. And I either will start a new life under Mark’s protection, or return to my usual life. Without John, without his lie, without his betrayal.

Choice that I will have to make. But not now. Now I can only wait.

And hope that everything will end well. For me. For John.

For all of us. The car drove through the city, winding in the stream of transport. I looked out the window, not particularly paying attention to the route.

Wherever we are going, this is the safe place Dmitry talked about. The place where I will wait until everything ends. After some time, I noticed that we are leaving the city.

Suburbs, cottage settlements, forest. Where are we going? Why so far from New York? How far is it? I asked, starting to worry. Not far, soon we’ll arrive, answered Dmitry.

Don’t worry, Anastasia Sergeevна. Everything is under control. I nodded, trying to calm down.

Mark promised to protect me. Michael believes him. So, I should believe too.

Despite all the games, all the manipulations. Despite the fact that they are taking me somewhere out of town, in unknown direction. The car turned off the main road, on a dirt road leading into the forest.

Drove a few more kilometers, stopped at the gates of some complex. High fence, security, cameras. Serious place.

The guard at the entrance checked some list, nodded, let us through. The car slowly drove into the territory, stopped at a three-story building, resembling a hotel or sanatorium. Arrived, said Dmitry.

Get out, Anastasia Sergeevна. I got out of the car, looked around. Forest, silence, fresh air.

The place really looked safe, isolated from the outside world. But also somewhat resembled a prison. Or a strict regime sanatorium, Dmitry led me inside the building.

Spacious hall, reception, like in a hotel. Behind the counter sat a young woman, typing something on the computer. Seeing us, smiled welcomingly.

Good day. How can I help? Anastasia Sergeevна Johnson, Dmitry presented me. Special guest of Mark Ashford.

The woman nodded, looked something on the computer. Yes, of course. Room 307, third floor.

Everything is ready, as Mark Ashford asked. She handed me an electronic key card. Pleasant stay, Anastasia Sergeевна.

If you need something, contact. I took the key, nodded in thanks. Dmitry led me to the elevator.

We ascended to the third floor, passed along the corridor to room 307. I opened the door with the key card, entered. The room was spacious, light, well furnished.

Big bed, wardrobe, table, armchair. Separate bathroom. Everything clean, tidy, modern.

More like a room in an expensive hotel than a room in a safe place. Settle in, said Dmitry, staying at the door. In the wardrobe there is clothing, in the bathroom toiletries.

If you need something, press the button by the bed. Dinner will be brought at seven. Thank you, I nodded, looking around.

How long will I stay here? This depends on the circumstances. Mark Ashford will contact you when everything ends. I nodded again.

I had no choice. Could only wait. And hope that everything will end well.

Dmitry went out, closed the door behind him. I approached, checked. Not locked.

I can go out if I want. Not a prisoner, but a guest. At least formally.

I sat on the bed, took the phone. Wanted to call Michael, learn what is happening. But the phone didn’t work.

No network, displayed on the screen. Strange. Or not strange.

Perhaps here, in the forest, just no connection. Or, more likely, there is a signal blocker. As in Mark’s house in San Francisco.

So, I’m really isolated from the outside world. Can’t contact anyone, can’t tell anyone where I am. Can only wait. And hope that Mark will keep his word.

That everything will end well. For me. For John.

For all of us. I lay on the bed, closed my eyes. Fatigue took its toll.

Events of recent days, constant tension, stress depleted me. I needed rest. At least a few hours of normal, calm sleep.

Woke up from a knock on the door. Opened my eyes, not immediately understanding where I am. Then remembered.

Mark’s safe place. Room 307. Yes.

Responded I, sitting on the bed. The door opened. A young woman entered with a tray in her hands.

“Your dinner, Anastasia Sergeevна,” — she said, putting the tray on the table. “Bon appetit”. I looked at the clock.

Seven in the evening. Slept several hours. But felt rested, more energetic.

“Thank you,” — I nodded. “Do you know if there are news from Mark Ashford? No, nothing was reported to me. But if there are news, they will be transmitted to you immediately”. She went out, leaving me alone with the tray of food.

Dinner looked appetizing. Steak, vegetables, fresh bread, bottle of wine. I wasn’t hungry, but forced myself to eat.

Need to maintain strength. Unknown what awaits me ahead. After dinner, I took a shower, changed into clothes I found in the wardrobe.

Everything fit in size, as if specially selected for me. Perhaps so it was. Mark is foresighted, thinks about everything.

I sat in the armchair by the window, looking at the darkening forest. The sun was setting, coloring the sky in shades of red and gold. Beautiful, calm, soothing.

If not for the circumstances, I could enjoy this view, this moment. But the circumstances were what they were. My husband, perhaps, already arrested.

Interrogated, perhaps under pressure. Decides whether to cooperate or not. To give testimony against Patterson or to remain silent.

And I sit here, in a safe place, and can’t do anything. Can only wait. And hope.

Time passed slowly. 8, 9, 10 in the evening. No news, no messages from Mark.

I began to nervous. What is happening? Why so long? What happened to John? At 11, I decided to go to bed. Pointless to sit and wait for news that may come tomorrow, the day after, or never at all.

Better to rest, gain strength. Tomorrow will be a new day. Perhaps with new news.

I lay in bed, turned off the light. The room plunged into darkness, only lunar light penetrated through the window, creating bizarre shadows on the walls. I closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep.

But sleep didn’t come. Too many thoughts, too many questions, too many worries. What is with John now? Is he arrested? What did he say? Did he agree to cooperate? Or refused, denies everything, silent? And what with Mark? With Michael? Are they safe? Did the operation succeed? Or something went wrong? And what with me? What will be further? New life under Mark’s protection? Or return to usual life, without John, without his lie, without his betrayal? Too many questions, too few answers.

I tossed and turned in bed, unable to fall asleep. The clock showed midnight, then one, then two. I was still awake, still full of anxiety, worry, uncertainty.

And then heard it. The sound of the opening door. Quiet, cautious, almost unnoticeable.

But I heard. And froze, pretending to sleep. Who is this? Mark came with news? Dmitry checks if everything is okay.

Or someone else? Someone dangerous? Steps. Light, cautious. Approaching the bed.

I lay motionless, trying to breathe evenly, as in sleep. Hand under the pillow, groped for the fruit knife, which I hid from dinner. Small, but sharp…

Better than nothing. Steps stopped at the bed. I felt someone’s presence, someone’s breathing.

Close, very close. Emily whispered voice. Familiar voice.

Very familiar voice. Emily, wake up. It’s me. I opened my eyes.

In the lunar light penetrating through the window, saw a familiar silhouette. Tall, slender, with characteristic posture. John.

I whispered, not believing my eyes. How did you end up here? They should have arrested you. Hush, he put his finger to his lips.

No time to explain. We need to leave. Fast.

While they haven’t discovered us. I sat up on the bed, trying to comprehend what is happening. John is here.

Not arrested, not in Mark’s hands. Somehow found me, came for me. Wants me to leave with him.

Where? Why? What is happening, John? How did you learn where I am? What happened to Mark’s operation? Later, Emily. I’ll explain everything later. Now we need to leave.

This is a question of life and death. Your life and death. In his voice was such tension, such anxiety, that I couldn’t not believe.

Something happened. Something serious. And he came to warn me, to save me.

Despite everything that was. Despite my betrayal, my deception, my game. Good, I said, standing up from the bed.

I’m with you. Quickly dressed, gathered the few things. John waited at the door, tense, wary, ready for action.

Ready? He asked in a whisper. Yes, I nodded. Where are we going? To the exit. There is a car.

But need to be very cautious. Here security, cameras, alarm. How did you pass all this? There are ways, he smiled mysteriously.

Let’s go. And stay close to me. We went out into the corridor.

Empty, quiet, only soft light of nightlights. John led me not to the elevator, but to the stairs. We descended to the first floor, cautiously opened the door.

Hall, reception. Behind the counter no one, only computer with turned on screen. Here, whispered John, pointing to the side door.

Not the main entrance, but some service exit. We passed through it, found ourselves outside. Night air, cool, fresh, filled with smells of forest.

The car is there, John pointed towards the trees. 200 meters. Need to be very quiet, very fast.

We went through the forest, trying not to noise, not to attract attention. I stumbled over roots, clung to branches, but John supported me, helped, directed. As in the old good times, when we were a couple.

When I believed him, trusted him, loved him without doubts, without fear, without suspicions. In a few minutes, we came out to a small clearing. There stood a car.

Not a black SUV, like Mark and his people, but an ordinary sedan, unremarkable, gray. John opened the door, gestured for me to get in. Faster, he whispered.

They can notice your absence at any moment. I got in the car, John behind the wheel. Started the engine, slowly, without headlights, drove onto the dirt road.

Only when we drove a significant distance from the complex, turned on the headlights, added speed. Now can talk, he said, looking at the road. You’re safe.

At least for now. What is happening, John? How did you find me? What happened to Mark’s operation? He sighed, for a moment took his gaze off the road, looked at me. There was no operation, Emily.

Mark wasn’t going to arrest me. This was a trap. For you.

For me? But why? Because you know too much. Saw too much. And now you represent a danger.

For Mark. For Patterson. For all of them.

I didn’t understand. What is he talking about? What danger? What do I know such that can threaten Mark? Patterson? Explain in more detail. I don’t understand.

John sighed again. This is complicated, Emily. And dangerous.

But you deserve to know the truth. The whole truth. After everything you had to go through.

He paused, gathering his thoughts. I’m not who I pretend to be. And not who Mark takes me for.

I work for the government, Emily. For a special service. We investigate Mark’s activities, collect evidence of his crimes.

I flinched. This is exactly what John told me on the phone when I was in Mark’s house. What I didn’t believe then.

What I considered another lie, another manipulation. “Prove it,” — I said. “Prove that you are telling the truth”. John nodded, as if expecting this.

“Fair. In the glove compartment there is a folder. Get it”.

I opened the glove compartment, found the folder. Thin, with the stamp “Top Secret” on the cover. Opened, began to flip through the documents inside.

ID in the name of John Johnson. But not a financial analyst, but a major of the FBI. Photos of Mark, Patterson, other people I didn’t know.

Recordings of conversations, protocols of meetings, observation reports. Everything looked official, serious, real. “This… this is true?” — I asked, not believing my eyes.

“You really… FBI agent?” “Yes,” — nodded John. “Under cover for five years already. Investigating the activities of Mark, Patterson and their group.

They launder money, finance illegal operations, bribe officials. Big, well-organized criminal network, with political connections. I continued to flip through the documents, unable to believe.

All these years, all this time. My husband was not who he pretended to be. Not a financial analyst, but an FBI agent under cover.

Not a traitor, but a defender of the law, fighter with crime. And Helen? She too. Agent? John paused, as if deciding how to answer.

Yes. Helen is my curator. We work together for three years already.

What you heard on the recording was a staging. We knew that Mark can listen, so we played roles. Said what he wanted to hear.

But. You were together. In our bed.

I heard. No, Emily. This was also pretense.

For the recording. We didn’t sleep together. Never.

I didn’t know whether to believe or not. This sounded too good to be true. Too convenient, too ideal.

But the documents in the folder looked real. And John looked at me with such sincerity, such pain, that it was hard not to believe. And Michael? He too.

Agent? John shook his head. No. Michael really works for Mark.

For three years already. He is his trusted person, right hand. And he really betrayed you, Emily.

Used, manipulated, set up. By Mark’s order. I flinched.

This was the most painful. My brother, my protector, my closest person. Traitor.

Not John, but Michael. Not husband, but brother. But why? Why did Michael betray me? Why work for Mark? Money, power, influence.

Ordinary motives. Mark pays well, cares about his people. And Michael? He was always ambitious.

Always wanted more than he had. And Mark gave him that. Or promised to give.

I nodded. This made sense. Michael was really always ambitious.

Always wanted more than he had. Always strived for success, for recognition, for wealth. And if Mark offered him that.

Why not? And the listening device? Who installed it? Michael? Yes. By Mark’s order. They wanted to check me, make sure I’m on their side.

That I really plan to steal money, escape from the country. That I’m not an agent under cover. And they heard exactly what they wanted.

Yes. Me and Helen, gave them exactly what they wanted to hear. Talks about theft, about escape, about new documents.

All this was part of our legend, our cover. We knew we were being listened to, and played our roles. I looked at the road, trying to comprehend what I heard.

It was too much. Too much information, too many revelations, too much truth, after so many years of lie. And what now? What will be further? Now we escape.

Far. Where Mark and his people can’t find us. Where we will be safe? At least temporarily. And the operation? Your investigation? Arrest of Mark, Patterson? John sighed.

The operation failed. Mark somehow learned about us, about our plans. Perhaps he has his sources in the FBI, perhaps we made a mistake.

In any case, now the main thing is not the operation, but your safety. Our safety. The operation can be resumed later. With other agents, with another approach.

But your life? It is one. And I can’t risk it. I looked at him, trying to see the truth in his eyes.

Is he speaking sincerely? Is my safety really more important to him than the operation, investigation, duty? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I asked. Why didn’t you trust? We are married seven years, John. Seven years of lie, secrets, pretense. He lowered his gaze, as if couldn’t look me in the eyes.

Couldn’t. This was strict secrecy. No one should have known.

Even you. Especially you. For your safety.

The less you knew, the less risk that you accidentally give me away, my operation, my real face. And now? Why did you tell now? Because there was no choice. Mark suspects you, considers a threat.

I had to get you out, Emily. And for this you had to know the truth. The whole truth.

I nodded. This made sense. The logic of an agent under cover, a person living a double life, risking everything for duty, service, country.

And what now? What will be with us? John raised his gaze to me. In his eyes was pain, uncertainty, fear. But hope too.

I don’t know, Emily. This depends on you. From whether you can forgive me.

For the lie, for the secrets, for all these years of pretense. For putting you in danger, making you doubt, suffer, fear. I was silent, not knowing what to answer.

Could I forgive? Forget everything that happened, everything I went through, what I believed and disbelieved in these crazy days. Didn’t know. Wasn’t sure.

Give me time, I said finally. Too much has happened. I need to think, comprehend, accept.

John nodded, understanding. Of course. You have all the time in the world.

And now let’s just survive. We spent three days at the cottage. Quiet, calm days, filled with simple affairs.

Cooked food, heated the fireplace, walked around the lake. Talked little, mostly silent. Each thought about his own, digested what happened, decided what to do next.

I gradually began to believe John. His story, his documents, his behavior. Everything looked sincere, real.

He really could be an FBI agent, a person of duty, honor, hero, risking life for truth, justice, safety. And Mark could be a criminal, manipulator, person not stopping at anything for money, power, influence. And Michael could be a traitor, sold for promises of wealth, success, recognition.

But doubts still remained. Too much lie, too many games, too many manipulations. Who to believe? Whose side to take? Whose truth to accept? On the fourth day everything changed.

We sat on the veranda, drank tea, looked at the lake. Quiet, peaceful evening. And suddenly.

The sound of an approaching car. John tensed, stood up, approached the edge of the veranda, peering into the forest road. “Someone is coming,” — he said, and in his voice was alarm.

“Quickly into the house. And don’t come out, whatever happens”. I ran inside, he after me.

Took out a pistol from the bag. Real pistol. Checked the magazine, removed from safety.

“Is this Mark?” — I asked, feeling my heart beating in my chest. “Possibly. Or his people.

I don’t know how they found us. I was sure we left no traces”. The sound of the car became louder.

They were approaching. John approached the window, cautiously looked out. “Black SUV,” — he said…

“Like Mark’s?” — “Three men. Armed”. I felt fear binding movement, paralyzing will.

“Is this the end? They found us, surrounded, will catch, kill? What to do?” — I asked, barely finding strength to speak. “I have a plan,” — John turned to me, his eyes were decisive, firm. “But you need to follow my instructions exactly.

Without questions, without hesitation. Can you?” I nodded. No choice.

Only trust him. Completely, unconditionally. “In the bedroom there is a hatch in the basement.

Hide there. Whatever happens, don’t come out until I come for you. Or until a day passes.

If in a day I don’t return, in the basement there is a spare exit. It leads to the forest. Go east, in five kilometers there will be a village.

There you’ll find help”. He spoke fast, clearly, like a person accustomed to crisis situations, to making decisions under pressure. “And you? What will you do, you?” “Delay them.

Distract. Give you time to leave”. I understood what he is going to do.

Sacrifice himself. For me. “No.

I won’t leave you. Emily, he took me by the shoulders, looked in the eyes. I am trained for this.

I have a chance. And if you stay, there will be no chances for anyone. Please.

Do as I ask”. In his eyes was such determination, such confidence, that I couldn’t not believe. Couldn’t not obey.

“Good,” — I said, holding back tears. “But promise you’ll be careful. Promise you’ll come back for me”.

I promise, he smiled, and in his smile, I saw the old John. My John. The person I loved for seven years.

The person I married. The person with whom I dreamed to live all life. The car stopped at the house.

Voices were heard, steps. “Go,” John pushed me to the bedroom. “Fast.

And remember. Whatever happens, don’t come out until I come for you. Or until a day passes”.

I nodded, kissed him on the cheek and ran to the bedroom. Found the hatch under the carpet, opened, descended into the dark, damp basement. Closed the hatch over my head, finding myself in complete darkness.

Heart beat so strongly that it seemed its beat can be heard even upstairs. I sat in the darkness, listening to the sounds from the house. Voices, steps, something else.

Muffled, indistinct. And then shots. One, second, third.

Screams, something broke, something fell. And silence. Terrible, oppressive silence.

I sat motionless, barely breathing. What is happening upstairs? Who won? Who lost? Is John alive? Are they looking for me? Time passed. Minutes, hours.

In the darkness, without clock, without light, I lost count of time. Perhaps two hours passed. Perhaps five.

Perhaps more. And suddenly. The sound of the opening hatch.

Light penetrating from above. Silhouette of a person against the light. Emily.

John’s voice. Alive, unharmed John’s. Are you here? Everything is okay.

I rushed to him, hugged, pressed, inhaling his smell, feeling his warmth, his strength, his life. What happened? Who was it? Are you wounded? Everything is okay. He hugged me in response.

This was a special group. My special group. Not Mark’s people.

I stepped back, not understanding. Your special group? But you said. Armed men.

Black SUV. Sorry, he looked guilty. I wasn’t sure it was mine.

Couldn’t risk. And when I saw who it is, decided to conduct a small test. Test? I still didn’t understand.

What test? On your loyalty. On your trust. Staged the shootout to check if you follow my instructions.

Will you stay in the basement, as I asked. I stepped back, stunned. You checked me? Arranged all this spectacle, made me fear, worry, think that you, perhaps, killed.

Only to check my loyalty? He lowered his eyes, embarrassed, guilty. This was necessary, Emily. I had to be sure.

Before taking you with me. Before trusting you further. Taking you with me? Where? To New York? The operation is resumed.

We take Mark, Patterson, all their group. Today. Now.

I looked at him, not believing my ears. But. How? You said the operation failed.

Mark learned about you, about your plans. This was a lie, John looked me straight in the eyes. Another check.

I had to make sure you’re on my side. That you don’t work for Mark. Don’t try to deceive me, set me up, betray me.

I shook my head, trying to comprehend what I heard. So all this. Escape from Mark’s complex, this cottage, these three days together.

All this was part of some check. Some game. Not a game, Emily.

Operations. Serious, dangerous operations, where people’s lives are at stake. My life.

Your life. Lives of many others. I was silent, trying to understand what I feel.

Anger? Disappointment? Offense? Or relief? Pride? Joy that I passed the check, that John now trusts me? And what now? I asked finally. What is required from me? Nothing special. Just be near.

Be a witness. When everything ends, you’ll give testimony against Mark, Patterson. Tell what you saw, what you heard, what you know.

And Michael? What will be with him? John paused, as if deciding how much can be told. Michael is a complicated case. He really works for Mark.

But also works for us. What? I didn’t believe my ears. Michael is a double agent? Yes.

He was embedded in Mark’s organization three years ago. By our order. For collecting information, for preparing the operation.

But. Everything he did. Listening device, manipulations, traps.

All this was part of the plan. Our common plan. We couldn’t tell you, Emily.

For your safety. The less you knew, the less risk that you accidentally give us away, our operation, our real faces. I shook my head, unable to believe.

Too many turns, too many revelations, too much truth, after so many years of lie. So Michael didn’t betray me? He was always on your side? On the side of the law, truth, justice? Yes. He risked his life, his reputation, everything.

For duty, service, country. Like me. I sat on the steps leading from the basement, trying to comprehend what I heard. The whole world turned upside down.

Again. The third, fourth, fifth time, for these crazy days. I don’t know what to think, I confessed. Don’t know what to feel.

Don’t know who to believe. John sat next to me, took my hand in his. Believe the facts, Emily.

Believe the evidence. Believe your heart. It always knew the truth.

Always felt it, even when the mind doubted. I looked at him, at my husband, at the person with whom I lived seven years. At the person I loved, trusted, respected. And who, despite everything, I still loved.

Good, I said, standing up. I’m with you.

To the end. John smiled, stood next to me. Then let’s go.

They are waiting for us in New York. We left the house. At the porch stood a black SUV.

Next to three men. Serious, fit, in FBI special forces form. Real special forces, not fake.

Everything is ready, comrade major, one of them saluted. Capture group in positions. Waiting only for your signal.

Excellent, nodded John. Moving out. Operation “Clean Hands” started.

We got in the car. Went to New York. On the way, John told me the details of the operation, plans, strategy.

I listened, nodded, memorized. Like a diligent student, like a faithful assistant, like a reliable partner. And felt a strange mixture of emotions.

Pride for husband, for brother, for their service, their duty, their honor. Relief that everything will end soon, that truth will triumph, that justice will be restored. And fear.

Fear for them, for myself, for our future. Because the operation was only beginning. And no one could guarantee that it will end successfully.

That Mark, Patterson, their people won’t resist, won’t take desperate actions, won’t harm those who stand in the way of their freedom, their power, their money. But I was ready to risk. Ready to go to the end.

For John. For Michael. For the truth.

For justice. And, perhaps, for myself too. For the woman I became in these crazy days.

Strong, decisive, ready to fight for what I believe in. For those I love.

The operation began at noon…

Simultaneous capture in several points of New York. Mark’s office. Patterson’s house.

Other places related to their activities, their people, their business. I was in the command center, observing the operation through monitors, listening to negotiations through headphones. John and Michael were there, on the front line.

Led capture groups, coordinated actions, ensured safety and efficiency. Everything passed surprisingly smoothly. Without resistance, without shooting, without victims.

Mark surrendered immediately, as soon as he saw special forces in his office. Patterson tried to destroy some documents, but didn’t have time. Others were detained at homes, in offices, in restaurants.

Everywhere they were at that moment, by evening everything was over. All suspects detained, all evidence collected, all testimony recorded. Including mine.

I told everything I saw, heard, knew. About Mark, about Patterson, about their plans, their actions, their crimes. And then silence came.

Strange, unusual silence, after days of tension, fear, uncertainty. We with John sat in his office in the FBI building, drank tea, were silent. Both tired, exhausted, but satisfied too.

Mission accomplished. Operation completed. Criminals detained.

Truth triumphed. What now? I asked, looking at my husband over the cup of tea. What will be further? With us? John paused, as if gathering thoughts.

This depends on you, Emily. From whether you can forgive me. For all these years of lie, secrets, pretense.

For putting you in danger, making you doubt, suffer, fear, I looked at him, at my husband, at the person with whom I lived seven years. At the person I loved, trusted, respected. And who, despite everything, I still loved.

I don’t know, I confessed honestly. Don’t know if I can forget everything that happened. But I want to try.

For us. For what was. For what can be.

John smiled, and in his smile was hope, gratitude, love. This is all I can ask for.

Chance. Opportunity to fix everything, start over. Without lie, without secrets, without pretense.

Real marriage. Real love. Real life.

I nodded, feeling something warm spreading in my chest. Something like hope, faith, love. Not the former, blind, naive.

A new one. Seeing, conscious, passed through trials and became stronger. I want this, I said. Want to try.

Want to believe that we can. That not everything is lost. That the best is yet to come.

John stood up, approached me, hugged. Strongly, tenderly, desperately. Like a person who almost lost the most precious, and suddenly, by miracle, got a second chance.

Thank you, he whispered in my ear. For faith. For hope.

For love. I won’t let you down. Never again.

I hugged him in response, closed my eyes, inhaling his smell, feeling his warmth, his strength, his love. And thought about the future. About our future.

Not simple, not ideal, but real. Without lie, without secrets, without pretense. Future that we will build together.

Day after day, step by step, brick by brick. On the foundation of truth, trust, respect. And love, of course.

Love that withstood, endured, survived. Despite everything. A year has passed since my life turned upside down.

A year since I learned the truth about my husband, about my brother, about myself. A year filled with recovery, healing, new beginning. The trial of Mark, Patterson and their accomplices was loud, resonant, historic.

They were found guilty on all counts of the accusation. Fraud, money laundering, bribery of officials, abuse of office. They were sentenced to long terms of imprisonment.

Twenty years for Mark, fifteen for Patterson, less for the others, depending on the degree of participation, degree of guilt. John and Michael received awards. Medals, promotions, recognition of colleagues, leadership, country.

Heroes. People who uncovered one of the largest corruption schemes in US history. People who risked life, reputation, everything for truth, justice, law.

And me? I just tried to live further. Returned to teaching at the language school. Met with friends with whom I lost contact over the years of marriage.

Engaged in self-development, sports, hobbies that I abandoned, passions that I postponed, worked on our marriage. Together with John. Day after day, conversation after conversation, compromise after compromise.

Built anew what was destroyed by lie, secrets, mistrust. Learned to believe again, trust again, love again. Not blindly, not naively, but consciously, seeing, with open eyes.

It was not easy. There were quarrels, tears, moments when it seemed that nothing would work, that too much is destroyed, too much lost. But we didn’t give up.

Didn’t retreat. Didn’t abandon each other in difficult minutes. And gradually, step by step, we returned to each other.

Found common language, common interests, common future. Remembered why we loved each other seven years ago. And found new reasons to love now.

Deeper, stronger, more consciously. Michael was also nearby. My brother, my protector, my.

Hero. He supported, helped, inspired. Filled the gaps that arose over the years of his secret service.

We became closer than ever. Real family. Imperfect, with its problems, its difficulties, its challenges.

But real. Without lie, without secrets, without pretense. And today, exactly a year after those crazy days, I sit on the veranda of our new house.

The house that we bought together with John. Real house, built on honesty, openness, trust. Looking at the garden, at the sunset, at the life we created.

And thinking about the future. About the child I’m expecting. About the family I’m building.

About the life I chose. Imperfect, not ideal, but real. Mine.

And I understand that happy. Not that naive, carefree happiness I knew yes. A deep, mature, conscious happiness of a person who went through trials, through pain, through losses.

And became stronger, wiser, more integral. John comes out to the veranda, sits next to me, hugs my shoulders. We look at the sunset together, silently, not needing words.

Understanding each other without them. Like people who went through fire and water together. Like people who saw each other in the best and worst moments.

Like people who chose each other not once, not twice, but many times. Every day. Every hour.

Every moment. Don’t regret? He asks quietly, looking at my rounded belly. About what? About staying.

Gave us a second chance. Decided to try again. Not a second. This was the right decision. The best decision in my life.

He smiles in response, kisses me on the temple. And we continue to look at the sunset. At the sky, shimmering with all shades of red, orange, golden.

At the sun, going beyond the horizon, promising to return tomorrow. New day. New chance.

New opportunity. Like our love. Like our life…

Like our story. The story that doesn’t end. That only begins.

Every day. Every hour. Every moment.

And in this, probably, the essence. Not in ideal life without problems, without pain, without challenges. A in real life.

With problems, with pain, with challenges. But with love too. With faith.

With hope. With the future we create ourselves. Choosing every day.

Choosing every hour. Choosing every moment. Choosing life.

Choosing love. Choosing truth. Even when it’s difficult.

Especially when it’s difficult. Because only then it has meaning. Only then it’s real.

And I am grateful. For all trials, all checks, all pain. Because they led me here.

To this moment. To this life. To this happiness.

And it’s worth it. Every second. Every tear.

Every heartbeat. Because now I know the truth. About them.

About myself. About life. About love.

And this truth makes me free. Strong. Happy.

Real. And when I look at the stars appearing on the evening sky, I think about all the women who, like me, doubt, don’t know who to believe, whose side to take. And I want to tell them.

Believe your heart. Your intuition. Your strength.

Because in the end, truth always wins. Good always triumphs. Love always finds the way.

Even through lie. Even through betrayal. Even through pain.

Especially through them. Because only having passed through trials, we learn what we are really capable of. Who we really are.

What really matters. And this knowledge. It’s priceless.

Like love that withstood all these trials. That survived. That became stronger.

Like our love. Mine, and John’s. Real.

Deep. Eternal. And when I tell this story to my mom, she loses speech.

Because she never thought that her daughter, her modest, quiet, obedient daughter, can go through such trials, such dangers, such shocks. And come out of them stronger, wiser, happier. Emily, she says, hugging me.

I’m so proud of you. Your strength. Your faith.

Your love. And these words. They mean more to me than all awards, all recognitions, all honors of the world.

Because they are from mom. From the person who loved me always. Without conditions.

Boundlessly. Even when didn’t understand, didn’t approve, didn’t support. And this love.

It gave me the strength to go through all trials. Withstand all checks. Withstand in all battles.

And now, when I myself am a mother, I understand this love even deeper. Even fuller. Even more consciously.

And I swear to give the same love to my children. Unconditional. Boundless.

Eternal. Love that will give them the strength to go through their own trials. Withstand their own checks.

Withstand in their own battles. And find their own truth. Their own life.

Their own happiness. Real. Like ours.

Like mine. And this, probably, the greatest blessing I can give them. The most important legacy I can leave them.

The most valuable gift I can present them. Gift of love. Gift of faith.

Gift of hope. Gift to be real. Like me. Like their father.

Like their uncle. Like their grandmother. People who know the price of truth.

The price of love. The price of life. And ready to pay this price.

Every day. Every hour. Every moment.

For what really matters. For love stronger than lie, stronger than betrayal, stronger than death. For life worth living.

Full. Honest. With love.

For truth that makes us free. Strong. Happy.

Real. And this, probably, the main lesson I learned from all this story. Which I want to pass to my children.

Which I want to leave after myself. That to be real. This is the greatest courage.

The greatest strength. The greatest love. And the greatest happiness too.

Because only when we are real, we are really alive. Really free. Really happy.

And I am grateful for this lesson. For this life. For this love.

For this truth. For everything. And when I look at the stars appearing on the evening sky, I know that everything was not in vain.

Everything led me here. To this moment. To this life.

To this happiness. And it’s worth it. Every second.

Every tear. Every heartbeat. Because now I know the truth.

About myself. About life. About love.

And this truth makes me free. Strong. Happy.

Real. And this is the biggest gift I could receive. The biggest happiness I could find.

The biggest truth I could learn. The truth that love. Real love.

It withstands everything. Lie, betrayal, pain, fear. It survives.

Transforms. Becomes stronger. Deeper.

More conscious. And for this love I am grateful. Every day.

Every hour. Every moment. For the chance to love so strongly.

So deeply. So real. For the chance to be loved the same.

For the chance to live with this love. In this love. For this love.

For everything. And this, probably, the happiest ending that could be in this story. The story that began with suspicions, with pain, with betrayal.

And ended with love, truth, happiness. The story about a woman who went through hell to find paradise. Who lost everything to find herself.

Who survived betrayal to find real love. My story. The story that only begins.

Every day. Every hour. Every moment.

Because life. Real life. It never ends.

It only begins. Again and again. With every sunrise.

With every heartbeat. With every breath. And I am ready for this life.

For this love. For this truth. I am ready to be real.

Every day. Every hour. Every moment.

Always.