They didn’t have to wait long. The car was seized within a week. The buyer, upon learning of the legal dispute and the letter from the lawyer, backed out of the deal, and the middleman vanished. The apartment was investigated: Yulia’s signature on the deed of gift turned out to be forged. Artur had “adjusted” it a little too well, and a handwriting expert established this without difficulty. The bank that had accepted the apartment as collateral began its own investigation. The tax office took an interest in LLC “Emma Consult” after Rashid provided the complete transfer scheme with comments. Artur was suspended from his job at the State Registry pending the investigation.
One day, he showed up at Pavel’s office. Pale, haggard, with trembling hands and the look of a man who realized he was trapped.
— They’re going to put me in jail… It was all Maxim’s mother’s idea, I was just following orders. I can give testimony, I’ll tell everything!
— This conversation is over, — Pavel replied. — The exit is that way.
Svyatoslav Vinogradov published a timeline of events with the video from Nina Vasilievna, Alsu’s testimony, and the recording of Emma Yakovlevna’s admissions. The video got 500,000 views in 24 hours. The people who had previously written “The rich have gotten completely out of hand” and “Staged for clout” were now apologizing in the comments. The false narrative collapsed, burying the Zotovs’ reputation under it.
Emma Yakovlevna, accustomed to being feared and respected, found that her neighbors crossed the street to avoid her, and former colleagues from school stopped greeting her. The former vice-principal, the terror of students and parents, had become an outcast, and that was perhaps the worst punishment of all for her.
Maxim was fired from the real estate agency. A realtor without a reputation is useless to anyone, especially one whose face is featured in viral videos with the caption “Scammer.” Partners distanced themselves, acquaintances stopped answering his calls.
A few months later, Yulya returned to her apartment. The court fully and unconditionally restored her property rights. The car was also returned. Some of the money was recovered, the rest was being collected through bailiffs. She started working remotely as an accountant: first for her father’s auto service centers, then she found other clients. A modest income, but her own, earned by her own labor.
Bogdan grew up healthy. Round cheeks, a ringing laugh. He took his first steps in the very apartment they had tried to steal, holding onto his mother’s finger and smiling a toothless grin. Yulya no longer lowered her head when people looked at her. The divorce was finalized quickly — Maxim didn’t resist, he had other things to worry about. She went back to her maiden name — Medvedeva.
A Sunday evening, six months later. Konstantin was home alone. Yulya and Bogdan had gone to visit a friend from university — the one she hadn’t seen for two years because of Maxim’s prohibitions. He ordered a pizza through an app, turned the TV to a soccer channel, and waited, not really paying attention to the game.
Forty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Konstantin opened it. On the doorstep stood a delivery driver in a yellow company jacket, with a thermal bag over his shoulder and a smartphone in his hand. Thin, unshaven, with the look of a man for whom everything had gone wrong and would never be right again.
Maxim.
For a few seconds, they stared at each other in silence. Maxim had recognized the address too late: the app only showed the street and apartment number, the customer’s name was “K. Medvedev.” His face turned gray, like asphalt after rain…
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