— Don’t get on this flight, — the woman lowered her voice and took Anna by the elbow. — Come with me. You have to see this. It’s very important.
— What? What flight? I don’t understand.
The line moved forward; the passenger in front of her showed her pass and went through to the gate. Now there were only two people ahead of Anna.
— Please, come with me. I don’t have much time, I’ll explain in a moment. But this concerns you. And your husband.
There was something in the cleaning lady’s eyes that made Anna wary. Not a threat, no. More like anxiety. And a kind of maternal determination.
— My husband? What happened?
— Not here. Come on.
Only one person was left. The airline employee was already looking in her direction, expecting her to be next. The plane was waiting. The trip was paid for. The hotel was booked. Two weeks of vacation by the sea. But something in this woman’s voice, in her gaze, made Anna hesitate. It wasn’t the look of a crazy person. It was the look of someone who knew something important and was trying to warn her.
— Wait a minute, — Anna said to the employee at the counter and stepped out of the line.
A few passengers behind her grumbled, but she was already following the cleaning lady, who quickly headed for a service door, away from the boarding gate. Valentina Ivanovna took a pass from her uniform pocket, held it to the reader, and the door opened with a soft click. They found themselves in a narrow service corridor that smelled of cleaning supplies and stale air. The walls were painted beige, and worn linoleum covered the floor. Somewhere in the distance, fans were humming.
— What’s going on? Please explain, — Anna felt her heart beat faster. Fear hadn’t set in yet, but anxiety was creeping into her chest.
— I’ll show you now. Just follow me.
They walked about twenty meters down the corridor, past several doors with signs like “Staff,” “Storage,” “Technical Room.” Finally, Valentina Ivanovna stopped at a small break room for employees. Inside were an old sofa, a table, a microwave, and a kettle. On the table lay a worn brown leather folder.
— Here, look, — the woman picked up the folder and handed it to Anna. — I found this an hour ago at the check-in counter. Someone forgot it. I was going to take it to the lost and found, but I opened it to see if there were any documents with the owner’s name. And I saw your name. Anna Petrovna Kravchenko. And also… well, you see for yourself.
Anna took the folder with trembling hands. She opened it. Inside were several documents. The first was a power of attorney. She scanned the lines and her blood ran cold.
“I, Kravchenko Anna Petrovna, passport series… number… hereby authorize Kravchenko Igor Vladimirovich, passport series… number… the right to perform on my behalf all necessary actions related to the alienation, sale, or donation of real estate, namely the apartment located at the address…”
The address of their apartment followed. The very one they had bought 15 years ago. The one that was registered in both their names — hers and Igor’s.
— What is this? Where did this come from? — Anna’s voice trembled.
— Look further, — Valentina Ivanovna said quietly.
Anna turned the page. The next document was a preliminary purchase agreement. The apartment was being sold. For 5 million. The buyer was a certain Kravchenko Oleg Vladimirovich. The transaction date was in three days. Exactly three days after her flight to Turkey.
— Oleg Vladimirovich… That’s Igor’s brother, — Anna whispered.
Her legs gave way, and she sank onto the sofa. The folder slipped from her hands and fell to the floor, scattering the documents. Valentina Ivanovna sat down next to her and picked up the papers.
— Dearie, I’m not a lawyer, but I understand what this means. Your husband was going to sell the apartment to his brother. While you’re on vacation. Using a power of attorney. And you would have only found out when you returned. Or maybe not even right away.
Anna sat, unable to move. Fragments of thoughts and memories flashed through her mind. The sudden trip. Igor’s insistence. His fussiness. The strange phone calls: “Tomorrow morning…”, “Yes, everything is ready…”, “Don’t worry…”. He was talking to his brother. Arranging the deal.
— But the signature…
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