That’s not my signature on the power of attorney.
Anna took the document again, peering at the scribble at the bottom of the page. The signature resembled hers, but it wasn’t identical. A forgery. A poor forgery, if you looked closely.
— Dearie, do you think a notary will look that closely? Especially if your husband comes with a passport, with documents, and says his wife is away on vacation and gave him power of attorney. And he’s selling to his brother, so it’s a family matter, all above board. He’ll stamp it and forget about it.
Anna felt a wave of rage rising inside her. 20 years of marriage. For 20 years she had trusted this man, borne his children, kept his house, worked, saved money for the apartment. Their apartment. Their joint property. And he was going to sell it all behind her back. To his brother. For some pathetic 5 million, which they would probably split later. Or maybe Igor would keep it all for himself.
— Why are you showing me this? Why didn’t you just take it to the lost and found? — Anna asked, looking up at the cleaning lady.
Valentina Ivanovna sighed, running a hand over her face.
— I had a similar story, dearie. Many years ago. My husband also deceived me, sold the house we built together. I worked two jobs to pay off the loan, and he sold it all to his sister. By the time I found out, it was too late. The documents were signed, the money was gone, and he had left with another woman. I was left with nothing. 30 years have passed, and I still remember what it was like. So when I saw these papers, saw your name, I knew I couldn’t just take it to the lost and found. I had to warn you.
Anna looked at this stranger, who could have just walked by, pretended she saw nothing, just done her job and forgotten. But she didn’t walk by. She took a risk, got distracted from her work, found her in a crowd of passengers, and stopped her.
— Thank you, — Anna’s voice was hoarse. — Thank you. You saved me.
— Don’t mention it, dearie. Just don’t let him do it. Run home, block everything you can. Go to a lawyer, a notary, declare that you never gave any power of attorney. There’s still time.
Anna jumped up, grabbed all the documents from the folder, and stuffed them into her bag.
— Leave the folder here, — said Valentina Ivanovna. — If your husband realizes he lost the documents and comes looking, I’ll say I didn’t find anything. You just take the papers, you need them as proof.
Anna nodded, her hands shaking, her thoughts racing.
— I need to get back immediately. Right now. Every minute counts. How do I get out of here?
— Go back down the corridor, through the same door we came in. Or I can take you to the main terminal exit, it’s closer.
— To the exit, please. I need a taxi. Urgently.
Valentina Ivanovna nodded and led her down another, wider corridor. They came out at a service exit where a few airport employees were smoking. The woman waved her hand towards the taxi stand.
— Over there, see? Good luck, dearie. And don’t let anyone push you around.
— Thank you. Thank you so much, — Anna impulsively hugged the cleaning lady, holding her tight. — You have no idea what you’ve done for me.
— I have an idea. Now go, there’s no time to lose.
Anna ran to the taxi stand. The plane to Antalya would leave without her. The trip would be wasted. But that was all nonsense compared to what she had just learned. Compared to the betrayal that had almost taken place.
She took out her phone, dialing the number of her friend Olga, who worked as a lawyer. Olga, with whom she had once studied at the institute, then lost touch, but had accidentally met at a clinic three years ago and started talking again. Olga answered after the third ring.
— Anna? What’s up, aren’t you supposed to be in Turkey?
— Olga, I need your help. Urgently. It’s about real estate, fraud, power of attorney. My husband…
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