— This isn’t a spontaneous reaction, — Pavel scrolled through the screen, his face unreadable. — This is a campaign. Bots, paid posts. Someone paid to discredit Yulya in advance.
Konstantin knew who that “someone” was. Emma Yakovlevna. A master of intrigue, who had spent decades honing her ability to turn people against each other in the teaching staff, was playing preemptively. If it came to a custody battle, public opinion would already be against Yulia.
Yulya saw the video and turned so pale that Konstantin was afraid she would faint.
— If people believe this… — she clutched Bogdan to her chest. — They could take him away, Dad. They’ll say I’m a bad mother.
— You were begging for money because you were thrown out onto the street, — Konstantin sat down next to her, taking her by the shoulders. — That’s the truth. And they are twisting it. The truth is on your side, Yulya. We will prove it.
Two days later, a message arrived on Yulia’s new number — the one only Konstantin, Pavel, and Luka knew:
“Think you’re hiding? The money belongs to your husband. If you don’t come back, get ready to lose Bogdan. We have our people in child protective services.”
Pavel saved a screenshot and checked the sender’s number.
— A burner phone, bought under a fake name. Leaked through the carrier, — he stated. — The Zotovs have people everywhere. No matter, this is also evidence.
And then Emma Yakovlevna herself called. The video call caught Konstantin in the kitchen as he was drinking cooled tea and thinking that his blood pressure was acting up again and his pills were almost gone.
His mother-in-law’s face appeared on the screen. Well-groomed, with an expression of sweet severity, the kind vice-principals have when summoning parents to their office. Behind her, Konstantin recognized the living room of the apartment in “Rodnikovaya Dolina.” New curtains, rearranged furniture. They were already settling in.
— Konstantin Dmitrievich, — Emma Yakovlevna’s voice was honey-sweet. — Let’s talk like adults. Yulechka is mentally unstable. You can see it yourself. Postpartum hysteria. It happens. She can’t take care of the child.
Maxim loomed behind her. A thin smile, cold eyes.
— If you don’t bring Yulya back, — he added, — tomorrow there will be a report to the police and child services. And Bogdan will no longer be with that crazy woman.
Konstantin was silent, looking at the screen, memorizing every word, every intonation.
— Emma Yakovlevna, — he finally said. — Remember this conversation.
And he hung up.
Pavel saved the recording. Rashid nodded:
— Everything is documented.
Now they had enough to go on the offensive. Konstantin arranged the meeting at the “Na Tsentralnoy” cafe on the embankment himself, sending Emma Yakovlevna a message carefully crafted in every word. He was tired, didn’t want a scandal, was ready to discuss a compromise. She agreed instantly — she was used to parents capitulating.
Konstantin came alone, dressed in an old shirt, without a watch. He wanted to look like a defeated old man who had no fight left in him. Emma Yakovlevna met him with false sympathy, taking his hands in her warm palms.
— Konstantin Dmitrievich, I understand how hard this is for you. Yulechka has always been a difficult child.
Maxim sat next to her with the smile of a real estate agent closing a profitable deal. Konstantin lowered his head, rubbing his temples. He was playing a role, just as he had played one in the nineties in front of raiders who thought he was broken.
— I want everything to go back to how it was. The apartment, the car, the money, Yulya.
Emma Yakovlevna laughed condescendingly.
— What apartment, Konstantin Dmitrievich? That’s family property now. Yulya is married, after all.
— And the money?
— So what? — Maxim shrugged. — The money is shared. I’m her husband. I spent it on the family.
Konstantin’s phone was in his shirt pocket, recording every word. Emma Yakovlevna was just uttering another key phrase:
— The apartment and the car are a matter of family law. And if Yulya wants the child, let her…
Suddenly, the phone loudly announced in a mechanical voice: “Attention! Device memory is full. Please delete unnecessary files.”
Emma Yakovlevna froze. Maxim tensed up. Konstantin calmly took out the phone, looked at the screen, shook his head, and put it back.
— A reminder. For my blood pressure pills. Sclerosis, Emma Yakovlevna, what can you do, it’s age.
She relaxed…
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