— This is from the insurance company, — she explained, trying to look guilty and a little scared. — Since the house has historical value, early 20th-century construction, the liability insurance is huge. But if you sign this waiver, as a non-primary owner, the premium will decrease by 12,000 a month. I thought, since I’ve ruined so much…
Vadim snatched the papers, glanced at the first page, saw the words “waiver of insurance liability,” which Ulyana had highlighted in bold specifically for this purpose, and missed the paragraph about waiving all spousal rights to the property, typed in small font on the third page.
— At least you’re trying to fix your mistakes, — he said condescendingly, not even thanking her, and scrawled his signature at the bottom of each page.
Snezhana watched the ink dry on the paper and felt something click inside. The trap mechanism had sprung, and the door had slammed shut forever.
She suggested a dinner party a week later, as a way to atone for the ruined coat and all the other mishaps. — I want to invite your mom, her sister, her nieces, — she said, looking into Vadim’s eyes with dog-like devotion. — And Angelina too, of course. I want to show that I can be a good wife, a good hostess.
Vadim agreed with a smirk he didn’t even try to hide. Let her embarrass herself in front of everyone; it would only make the story of divorcing an incompetent wife easier. He didn’t know that Ulyana had already installed hidden cameras in the living and dining rooms, disguised as smoke detectors, and that every word spoken at that table would be recorded in high definition.
The guests arrived on Saturday evening, dressed up and arrogant. Larisa Arkadyevna, in a new dress bought with stolen wedding money, winced at the wine Snezhana had chosen specifically, buying the cheapest from the supermarket. Angelina entered on Vadim’s arm, with his wife present, in a loose dress, trying to hide her rounded belly. But Snezhana noticed how she unconsciously placed a hand on her stomach, protecting what was growing inside—a gesture that gives away every pregnant woman.
— Darling, is this wine from a box? — Larisa Arkadyevna asked mockingly, holding her glass up to the light.
— I’m sorry, I don’t know much about wine, I just grabbed what was there.
— It shows. It very, very much shows.
Snezhana refilled the guests’ glasses, smiled, endured the taunts and exchanged glances, knowing the cameras were recording every word, every contemptuous look. And then, carrying a carafe to the table, she tripped on a chair leg and spilled red wine right onto Angelina’s lap.
The wet fabric clung to her belly, revealing an obvious pregnancy, small, about four months, but an undeniable roundness.
— What are you doing, you clumsy cow! — Angelina shrieked, jumping up and brushing herself off.
Vadim rushed to her, forgetting everything. — Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Are you feeling sick?
A heavy, absolute silence fell upon the room. Vadim froze with his mouth open, realizing what he had just said in front of everyone, including his own wife. Snezhana slowly placed the carafe on the table and stood up to her full height.
For the first time in weeks, her face was calm and calculating, and the room grew several degrees colder.
— Sit down! — she told Larisa Arkadyevna, who had started to shout about her being a country bumpkin and a dimwit, habitually raising her voice. — Sit down and listen to me carefully.
She placed a receipt for prenatal vitamins on the table, found in Vadim’s gym bag and dated last week. Then a copy of the prenuptial agreement, where he had personally waived all rights to the apartment for a saving of 12,000 a month. And finally, she spoke in a voice that made even Larisa Arkadyevna turn pale.
— My father is Fedor Grigoryevich Shevchenko. The CEO and main shareholder of the “Black Sea Transit” holding. The very same holding, Vadim, whose suppliers you’ve been running kickback schemes with for the last six months. One and a half million hryvnias, if you’re interested in the amount.
The front door opened; Ulyana had unlocked it remotely from her phone. Ulyana herself entered the apartment in a smart suit, followed by two police officers in uniform and an investigator from the economic crimes unit, an older man with a folder of documents in his hands.
Vadim was pulled up from the table and his hands were cuffed behind his back.
— Article 190. Fraud, — the investigator announced. — Article 191. Misappropriation or embezzlement of property.
Larisa Arkadyevna was also pulled up. And she started screeching, trying to break free. — I had nothing to do with it. It was all him. I didn’t know anything.
— Article 209. Legalization (laundering) of property obtained by criminal means, — the investigator continued imperturbably. — The kickbacks were deposited into your personal account, citizen Yakovleva. The correspondence with instructions for structuring the transfers has been saved.
— Snezhana! — Vadim lunged towards her, and the police officer caught him by the elbow, twisting his arm. — Talk to your father. Withdraw the complaint. I’m scared of pretrial detention, I have high blood pressure, I won’t survive in there, please…
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