Anatoly froze in the middle of the living room, holding a folder of documents in his hands. His face first went pale, then flushed red.
“What do you mean, ‘from your apartment’? We bought it together!”
“NO,” Elena cut him off, clutching the ownership certificate in her hand. “This is my grandmother Vera Pavlovna’s apartment. She signed it over to me as a gift five years ago. And you just lived here, enjoying my hospitality.”
Anatoly put the folder down on the coffee table. Confusion flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by anger.
“Elena, have you lost your mind? We’ve been married eight years! We have a joint business, accounts…”
“We were married,” she corrected him, taking another document out of her purse. “I filed for divorce a month ago. As for the business… your company ‘AnatolyStroy’ no longer exists.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t exist?!”
Elena sat down in an armchair, crossing her legs. Her voice sounded calm, even cold.
“Very simple. Remember three years ago you asked me to sign some papers? Said it was for tax optimization. I trusted you and signed. Turns out, you transferred the company to me. Completely. And now I, as the sole owner, have decided to liquidate it.”
Anatoly grabbed the back of the sofa.
“You couldn’t have… That’s my company! I built it from scratch!”
“From scratch?” Elena smirked. “With my father’s money, with Viktor Semyonovich’s money. Remember how you swore to him you’d take care of me? That you’d never betray me?”
“Elena, listen…”
“NO, you listen!” She stood up and walked over to the window. The evening city stretched out beyond the glass. “Do you know how many times your lover Miloslava has called me over the last month?”
Anatoly flinched.
“What Miloslava?”
“Your secretary. The twenty-three-year-old blonde with fake eyelashes. The one you promised an apartment in the new residential complex. Using company money, by the way.”
“How do you…”
“I have all your messages, Tolya. All of them. And the photos from that trip to Sochi where you were supposedly at a construction expo. And bank statements—how much you spent on her gifts.”
A tall man in a formal suit walked into the room. Anatoly recognized Svyatogor—Elena’s lawyer.
“Elena Viktorovna,” Svyatogor addressed her, “the documents are ready. Mr. Anatoly Petrovich must vacate the premises within twenty-four hours.”
“Svyatogor, this is illegal!” Anatoly exploded. “I have the right…”
“According to the prenuptial agreement you signed eight years ago,” the lawyer interrupted, “in the event of infidelity, the guilty party forfeits all rights to jointly acquired property. However, as it turns out, you don’t have any jointly acquired property. Everything is in Elena Viktorovna’s name.”
Anatoly lunged for the folder of documents he had brought with him.
“I have proof! Elena cheated on me too! Here, look at the photos!”
He snatched several pictures out and threw them onto the table. The photos showed Elena with an unfamiliar man in a restaurant.
Elena picked up one of the photos and examined it closely.
“That’s Dobromysl Igorevich. My cousin from Novosibirsk. He came for Aunt Marina’s anniversary. You, by the way, refused to go to the family party. Said you had an important meeting. With Miloslava, I suppose.”
“That’s not your cousin! I checked!”
“Checked?” Elena raised an eyebrow. “So you were spying on me? Hired a private detective?”
“I had the right to know!”
“GET OUT!” she shouted. “Take your things and get out! And don’t you dare show your face here again!”
At that moment the door opened and an elderly woman came into the apartment—Anatoly’s mother, Zinaida Stepanovna. Behind her followed his sister Varsenika and her husband Ratibor.
“What is going on here?” Zinaida demanded imperiously. “Tolya, why is your wife shouting?”
“Mom, she’s kicking me out of the house!”
Zinaida gave Elena a look full of contempt.
“Oh really? After everything my son has done for you?”
“And what exactly has he done for me?” Elena asked calmly.
“He married you! A simple girl from the sticks!”
“I’m a Muscovite in the third generation, Zinaida Stepanovna. It’s your son who came here from Saratov fifteen years ago without a kopeck to his name.”
“How dare you!” Varsenika cut in. “My brother is a successful businessman!”
“He was,” Svyatogor corrected. “The company was liquidated three days ago.”
“What?!” Ratibor took a step forward. “Tolya, what does that mean? You promised me a contract for supplying materials!”
“There will be no more contracts,” Elena snapped. “The company is gone.”
“You ruined my son!” shrieked Zinaida. “Witch!”
“Your son ruined himself. He withdrew three million from the company’s accounts. Thought I wouldn’t find out. The money went to the account of one Miloslava Krasnova.”
“And who is Miloslava?” Varsenika demanded sharply, turning to her brother.
“Nobody! It’s slander!”
In the doorway appeared a young woman with bright red hair. She held keys in her hand.
“Tolik, I came like you asked… Oh!” She froze when she saw everyone gathered.
“Miloslava,” Elena said coldly. “How very timely.”
“I… I should probably go…”
“STOP!” barked Zinaida. “Who are you?”
“I… I’m Miloslava. I work… worked with Anatoly Petrovich.”
“And what are you doing here?” Varsenika narrowed her eyes.
“Tolik… I mean, Anatoly Petrovich said we’d be living here. That he divorced and…”
“DIVORCED?!” roared Zinaida. “Tolya, what is going on?!”
Anatoly kept silent, staring at the floor.
“I’M PREGNANT,” Miloslava said quietly.
A deathly silence fell over the room.
“You’re lying!” screamed Varsenika. “You set this up on purpose!”
“I have medical certificates…” Miloslava reached into her bag.
“GET OUT!” Zinaida yelled at her. “And don’t you dare come near my son!”
“But he promised to marry me!”
“He’s married!” roared Ratibor.
“Not anymore,” put in Svyatogor. “The divorce is finalized.”
Elena walked up to Miloslava.
“Girl, you’d better leave. And think carefully whether you really want to tie your life to a man who betrays everyone.”
“He loves me!”
“He only loves HIMSELF. Ask him why the company really closed.”
Miloslava looked questioningly at Anatoly.
“Tolik?”
“It’s temporary difficulties,” he muttered.
“Temporary?” Elena took a tablet out of her bag. “Here is the tax audit report. Back taxes—fifteen million rubles. The company was in my name, but all operations were handled by Anatoly. He used fake documents, siphoned money off through shell companies.”
“That’s not true!” shouted Anatoly.
“It’s true. And the tax authorities have already opened an investigation. A criminal case, by the way.”
Ratibor grabbed Anatoly by the shoulder.
“What have you done, idiot?! I put all my savings into your company!”
“Let go!”
“What savings?” asked Varsenika in surprise. “What are you talking about, Ratibor?”
“I… I invested in your brother’s business. He promised to double the money in six months.”
“How much?” Varsenika asked, her voice icy.
“Two million.”
“TWO MILLION?! That’s the money for the kids’ apartment!”
“He promised three percent a month!”
“A classic Ponzi scheme,” commented Svyatogor. “Ms. Elena Viktorovna, you should know—your spouse… excuse me, former spouse… attracted private investors’ funds with promises of unrealistic returns.”
“How many people?” Elena asked.
“According to our information, around thirty. The total amount is about fifty million.”
Miloslava started edging toward the door.
“I… I have to go…”
“Where?!” Anatoly rushed toward her. “Mila, wait!”
“NO! You lied to me! You said you had a successful business, that you’d buy me an apartment!”
“I will! Just give me time!”
“With what money?” Varsenika asked bitterly. “If you ripped off my husband too?”
“I didn’t rip anyone off! It’s temporary liquidity problems!”
Another man appeared in the doorway—a man in his fifties.
“Mr. Anatoly Petrovich?” he addressed him.
“Yes… And you are?”
“Mstislav Arkadyevich Volkonsky. I represent a group of investors in your company. We are filing a class action lawsuit.”
“For what?!”
“Fraud on a particularly large scale. We have all the documents signed by you. Promises of guaranteed returns which were not backed by real assets.”
Zinaida clutched at her heart.
“Tolya… what is happening?”
“Mom, it’s a misunderstanding!”
“I’m afraid not,” Svyatogor interjected. “Mr. Volkonsky, I believe your clients have every reason to sue.”
“Absolutely. And we intend to seek not only the return of funds, but also compensation for moral damages.”
“But he doesn’t have any money!” cried Miloslava. “He told me he put everything into new projects!”
“What projects?” Mstislav Arkadyevich inquired. “As far as we know, over the past six months the company has had no real business activity. Only attracted new funds to pay interest to previous investors.”
“That’s slander!” Anatoly shouted. “I demand a lawyer!”
“Demand one,” Mstislav nodded. “You’ll need one. The Investigative Committee is already interested in your activities.”
Varsenika grabbed her brother.
“Give my husband’s money back! RIGHT NOW!”
“I don’t have it!”
“What do you mean you don’t?! Where did you put it?!”
“I… I invested…”
“Where?!”
Anatoly stayed silent.
“In cryptocurrency,” Elena said quietly. “I saw the transaction history. He bought some tokens of a new cryptocurrency that promised a thousand percent profit. It turned out to be a scam. The creators disappeared with the money.”
“WHAT?!” Ratibor grabbed Anatoly by the collar. “You blew my kids’ money on some cryptocurrency?!”
“Let go! It was supposed to work!”
“Supposed to?!” Tears streamed down Varsenika’s face. “We saved that money for ten years!”
Zinaida sank onto the sofa.
“Tolya… how could you… People trusted you…”
“Everything will work out, Mom! I’ll find a way out!”
“What way?” Mstislav shook his head. “Young man, you’re facing up to ten years in prison. If you’re lucky.”
“Elena!” Anatoly rushed to his ex-wife. “Help me! You know I never meant to deceive anyone!”
“Never meant to?” She stepped back from him. “You lied to EVERYONE. To me, to the investors, even to your own lover.”
“I’ll change! Give me a chance!”
“A chance? After you lied to me for years? Cheated on me? Used my father’s money for your schemes?”
“That was business!”
“No, that was fraud. And now you’ll have to answer for it.”
Svyatogor walked over to Elena.
“Elena Viktorovna, you should leave the premises. These gentlemen are clearly agitated.”
“We’re leaving,” she nodded. “Anatoly, you have two hours to pack. Then the locks will be changed.”
“You can’t!”
“I can and I will. Svyatogor, make sure he doesn’t take anything except personal belongings.”
“Of course.”
Elena headed for the door. In the doorway she turned around.
“By the way, Miloslava. That child you’re carrying… I hope you realize you won’t be getting any child support. Your Tolik will soon be penniless. And he’ll have nowhere to live.”
“But… but he said…”
“He said a lot of things. To everyone. And look how it ended.”
Elena walked out of the apartment. Svyatogor followed her.
In the living room remained Anatoly, his relatives, Miloslava, and the representative of the defrauded investors.
“So, about the money?” Ratibor still hadn’t let go of his brother-in-law.
“I told you—there isn’t any!”
“Then sell what you have! The car, for example!”
“The car is leased. And I’m three months behind on the payments.”
“The watch! You’ve got a Swiss watch worth a million!”
“It’s a fake,” Anatoly admitted wearily. “I bought a replica for thirty thousand.”
“You…”
Ratibor raised his fist, but Varsenika held him back.
“DON’T! He’s not worth you going to prison over him!”
Mstislav Arkadyevich took out his phone.
“Hello, Vsevolod Ignatyevich? Yes, I’m with him. No, there’s no money and there won’t be. Yes, file the complaint. Start the bankruptcy procedure as well.”
“Bankruptcy?!” squealed Anatoly.
“What did you expect? Debts don’t disappear by themselves. By the way, do you have other loans?”
“A few… consumer loans…”
“How much?”
“Around five million.”
“Tolya!” sobbed Zinaida. “Why did you borrow so much?”
“I had to maintain the image of a successful businessman…”
“Image?!” burst out Varsenika. “You ruined everyone for the sake of an image?!”
Miloslava was quietly sobbing in the corner.
“I didn’t know… He told me he was rich… Showed me photos of a yacht…”
“The yacht was rented for a day for a photo shoot,” Mstislav said dryly. “We checked.”
“How did you find out?”
“We have good lawyers and detectives. When fifty million is at stake, people are willing to pay for an investigation.”
Zinaida got up from the sofa.
“Tolya, where are you going to live?”
“I… I don’t know…”
“Don’t you dare come to us!” snapped Varsenika. “Not after what you’ve done!”
“But I’m your brother!”
“You were. Now you’re NOTHING to me.”
Varsenika took her husband by the arm.
“Let’s go, Ratibor. There’s nothing more for us here.”
They left. Staggering, Zinaida followed them. At the threshold she turned back.
“I don’t recognize you, Tolya. You’ve become a MONSTER.”
“Mom!”
But she was already gone.
Miloslava walked up to Anatoly.
“What am I supposed to do now? I’m having a baby!”
“I’ll figure something out…”
“What will you figure out?! You’ve got nothing! You lied to everyone!”
She slapped him across the face and ran out of the apartment, sobbing loudly.
Mstislav Arkadyevich straightened his tie.
“Well then, Mr. Anatoly Petrovich, we’ll see you in court. And I suggest you find a good lawyer. A very good one. Although I doubt it will help.”
He left too.
Anatoly was left alone in the apartment that no longer belonged to him. He sank onto the sofa and buried his head in his hands.
How had it all come to this? Just yesterday he’d been a successful entrepreneur with a beautiful wife, a mistress, an expensive car… And today he had nothing left.
His phone rang. “Bank” flashed on the screen.
“Hello…”
“Mr. Anatoly Petrovich? This is the bank’s security department. We have a court order to freeze all your accounts in connection with suspected fraud. Your cards have been canceled.”
“But… how am I supposed to…”
“Consult your lawyer. Have a nice day.”
The line went dead.
Anatoly looked at his phone. An expensive latest-model smartphone. Bought on credit, of course. A credit he now wouldn’t be able to pay off.
An hour passed. Anatoly mechanically packed his things into a sports bag. Clothes, documents, a phone charger… His entire life now fit into one bag.
There was a knock at the door.
“Mr. Anatoly Petrovich, time’s up,” came Svyatogor’s voice. “Please leave the premises.”
Anatoly picked up the bag and walked out of the apartment. Svyatogor stood in the hallway with a locksmith.
“The keys, please.”
Silently, Anatoly handed over the key ring.
“And the car keys too. The car is registered to Elena Viktorovna.”
“But how will I…”
“That’s not our concern. The car will be handed over to the leasing company to pay off the debt.”
Anatoly gave up the car keys.
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“That’s your personal matter. I can only advise you to find a lawyer. Tomorrow at ten in the morning you’re expected at the Investigative Committee.”
Svyatogor nodded to the locksmith, and he began changing the lock.
Anatoly went down into the courtyard. A fine autumn drizzle had started. He took out his phone to call a taxi, but remembered—his cards were blocked. He had no cash; he’d long been used to paying by card.
He dialed the number of an old friend, German.
“German? It’s Tolya. Listen, I’m in a bit of a situation…”
“Tolya? You still have the nerve to call me after you stiffed me for one and a half million?!”
“German, I can explain everything…”
“Explain it in court! And don’t call me again!”
The line went dead.
Anatoly dialed another number. Then another. And another. Everyone hung up as soon as they heard his name.
He stood in the middle of the yard with his bag in hand. A man who that very morning had considered himself master of his life now had no idea where he would spend the night.
His phone rang again. An unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Anatoly Petrovich? This is Kapiton Fyodorovich Grozny, a special investigator for major cases. You are charged with fraud on a particularly large scale. I strongly advise you to appear tomorrow at ten in the morning. Otherwise, you will be declared wanted.”
“I’ll come…”
“And one more thing, Mr. Anatoly Petrovich. Do not attempt to leave the city.”
Anatoly lowered the phone.
The rain grew heavier. He pulled up the collar of his jacket and trudged away from the house where he had lived for eight years. A house that had never been his.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. An SMS from the bank: “Dear client, we remind you of the need to repay the overdue debt in the amount of 5,247,358 rubles. If payment is not made within three days, forced collection procedures will be initiated.”
Right after that, another message came, from an unknown number: “Tolya, it’s Miloslava. I had an abortion. Don’t look for me.”
Anatoly stopped in the middle of the street. Rain streamed down his face, mingling with the tears he didn’t even notice.
And in the warm apartment, Elena sat by the fireplace with a glass of red wine. Next to her lay the documents for a new company—an event agency she planned to open. Her own business, honest and transparent.
“Elena Viktorovna,” came Svyatogor’s voice from the hallway, “the locks have been changed. Your ex-husband has left the premises.”
“Thank you, Svyatogor. Would you like some tea?”
“With pleasure.”
The lawyer walked into the living room and sat in the armchair opposite her.
“A hard day,” he remarked.
“Hard, but necessary. You know, I put up with it for three years. Thought he’d change. That he’d stop lying, manipulating, cheating… But when I found out about the pyramid scheme, I realized—enough.”
Six months later, Anatoly sat at a battered desk in a tiny office of a microfinance company, calling debtors on small payday loans for twenty thousand a month. The investigation dragged on, the lawyer kept demanding money he didn’t have, and in the evenings Anatoly returned to a rented room. When Elena ran into him by chance on the street, she looked right through him, as if at empty space—and there was something in that look more terrible than any curse