Konstantin calmly took the pizza box, feeling its warmth through the cardboard. He took a five-hundred-ruble note from his pocket.
— Keep the change.
Maxim stood motionless, unable to leave or say anything. His hands trembled so much that the smartphone almost fell from his fingers.
Konstantin added, as he was closing the door:
— Here, buy yourself a conscience. Though it probably won’t be enough.
The door closed. He sat down to eat. The pizza was still hot.
Later, he told Yulia about this encounter. Simply, without drama, as one might talk about something insignificant. She was silent for a moment, looking out the window at the evening city, then said quietly:
— I don’t feel sorry for him.
And that was the honest truth.
Emma Yakovlevna sold her apartment to pay the fines and compensations. The very apartment she had been so proud of, where she had hosted guests and held tea parties for “the right people.” She moved in with her sister in Kamyshin. The former vice-principal, the terror of students and parents, now lived in a one-room apartment overlooking an industrial zone and worked as a language tutor for a couple of hundred rubles an hour.
Artur received a suspended sentence for fraud and document forgery. The judge took his cooperation with the investigation into account, but his career was over for good. He got a job as a security guard at the very “Aquarelle” shopping center that Yulya had once walked past with an outstretched hand, and where he now passed by that same traffic light every day.
Potap Barankin got his 200,000 through the court and left town. They say he opened a tire shop somewhere in another city and even got married. Pavel helped with the lawsuit, just as Konstantin had promised.
And Bogdan grew up, knowing nothing of what had happened. A happy child with round cheeks and a ringing laugh. And that, Konstantin thought, watching his grandson take his first unsteady steps across the room, was the greatest victory of all.
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