— Why?
— Because you are not my brother, Igor. You never were.
The operating room became so quiet that only the hum of the ventilation could be heard. Victoria pressed her hand to her mouth. Belov stood motionless, his face turning to stone.
— What are you talking about? — he finally managed to say.
— The truth, which I learned three days ago, — Viktor continued, and now there was pain in his voice. — Our mother, before she died last month, called me to her side and told me. Do you remember how we grew up? How everyone said we looked alike, but I was always in the shadows, you were the favorite, you got all the best things. I blamed it on you being older. But it turns out, the reason was different. You are not our father’s son. Mother gave birth to you from a lover, a wealthy businessman who left her when he found out about the pregnancy. Father found out about it when you were already five, but he accepted you, raised you as his own. And then I was born, the real son. And you know what? He still loved you more. Because you were more handsome, smarter, more successful. And I just stayed in the shadows. My whole life.
Belov swayed as if he’d been struck again. Victoria rushed to him, hugged him, but he stood like a wooden doll.
— You’re lying, — he whispered. — Mother couldn’t have…
— Mother confessed, Igor, before she died. She said her conscience tormented her her whole life. And she asked me not to tell you, not to ruin your life. But I couldn’t stay silent. Because my whole life I was your shadow, my whole life I wore your hand-me-downs, used what you got bored with. Even our family business—you made yourself the head, even though the inheritance was supposed to be split equally. You took everything. And you know what? I decided to check. I decided to do a DNA test, yours and mine, under one name, to see if mother told the truth. I stole your passport yesterday while you were sleeping after your pill. I gave my blood, pretending to be you. And the result confirmed it: we don’t even have the same blood type. We’re not real brothers, Igor. You’re a bastard.
The last word sounded like a slap in the face. Belov lunged forward, but Pavel and the security guards intercepted him.
— You… You son of a bitch! — Belov yelled, trying to break free. — You wanted to frame me! You wanted them to discover during the operation that the tests didn’t match, so I’d be accused of fraud! So I’d lose my reputation!
— I wanted you to understand what it feels like to be a nobody, — Viktor answered coldly. — I wanted you to feel like an imposter, like I’ve felt my whole life. But you know what’s the funniest part? — He suddenly laughed, and this laughter was more terrifying than a scream. — I thought that if the results showed you had some disease, you’d be scared that your precious reputation would suffer. But it turned out that I’m the one with a genetic disease. A rare mutation that could kill me at any moment. The irony of fate, isn’t it?
A deathly silence fell over the operating room. Pavel unclenched the fingers that had been gripping the test result sheet and looked at Viktor. There was so much pain and fury in this man’s eyes that it was frightening.
Sergey Petrovich quietly said, “Good Lord.”
Anatoly Borisovich, the chief physician, wiped his sweaty forehead and muttered, “This is a nightmare. Pavel, what do we do?”
Pavel looked first at Igor Belov, who stood pale, held by Victoria, then at Viktor, who was glaring at everyone defiantly, then at the analysis sheet in his hands.
— Viktor Belov, — he said, and his voice was firm. — You stole a passport, impersonated another person, and submitted a sample under a false name. That is a crime. But right now, something else is more important.
He held up the sheet.
— You have a gene mutation that can lead to sudden cardiac arrest. Did you know about this?
— No, — Viktor smirked. — I only got the results from the lab this morning. They called the phone number I provided when I gave the sample. They said I needed an urgent consultation with a geneticist. What a surprise.
— You need treatment. Immediately.
— What’s the point? — Viktor shrugged. — I’ve been a shadow my whole life. Let me be the main hero in death at least.
— Don’t talk nonsense, — Pavel said sharply. — I will not let you die in my clinic because you don’t want to get treated. Alina, call a cardiologist and a geneticist. This man needs a full examination.
Viktor was about to object, but Pavel cut him off:
— And another thing. What you did was wrong and illegal. But if you hadn’t done it, we wouldn’t have found out about your illness. You may have saved your own life. So sit down, fill out the paperwork, and prepare for an examination. This is not a request, it’s a doctor’s order.
Viktor looked at him with a long gaze, then suddenly nodded and sank into the chair that Katya had offered him. His hands were shaking. Igor Belov pushed Victoria away and walked over to his brother. He stood before him, looked at him for a long time, then said quietly:
— Vitya, you’re an idiot.
Viktor raised his head:
— What?
— An idiot, — Igor repeated, and there was no anger in his voice, only exhaustion. — You just had to ask. Just come up to me and ask why I act this way, why I was always the one in charge.
— Do you know what I would have answered?
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