Why did he need that kind of money? What had he done with it or what was he planning to spend it on?
She continued to rummage through the papers. She found some IOUs. “Promissory Note. I, Volkov Andrey Sergeevich, promise to return to Grigoriev Maxim Olegovich the sum of 500 thousand by October 1, 2024.” The date was three months ago. Another note. To another person, Semenov. Another 300 thousand.
Then she found a printout from some online casino. Loss: 2 million 100 thousand.
Everything became clear. Andrey was gambling. Losing. He got into debt. And now he decided to pay it off using her apartment, without even asking, without telling her. Just take it and forge the documents.
Irina sat among these papers, and everything inside her went numb with betrayal. It wasn’t even about the money, although three million was a huge amount. It was about the trust. Eighteen years together, and he was ready to deprive her of her only home, to deceive her, to forge her signature. To turn her into a debtor without her knowledge.
And what if she had gone to work today? What would have happened? He would have gone to the bank with forged documents, received the money. When would she have found out? When the first payment demand arrived? Or when the bank started the foreclosure process?
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Sharp, insistent. Irina flinched, dropping the papers. Her heart pounded wildly. The bell rang again. She stood up, went to the hallway. Looked through the peephole. On the landing stood two men in strict suits, holding folders. One was middle-aged, overweight, with a receding hairline. The other was younger, tall, athletic.
— Who’s there? — Irina asked without opening the door.
— Representatives from “Capital” bank. For Volkova Irina Petrovna. Please open up, it’s about the loan agreement.
“On Friday, you be the first to open the door, a bad guest will come.” The fortune teller’s words hit her temples. A bad guest. The bank. The loan.
— One moment.
Irina took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She opened the door. The men nodded politely.
— Hello. Volkova Irina Petrovna?
— Yes, that’s me.
— My name is Igor Valentinovich Kravtsov, I am the senior client manager at ‘Capital’ bank. This is my colleague Dmitry Sergeev, a lawyer. We are here regarding your loan agreement. Did you apply for a loan of three million against real estate collateral?
— No, — Irina said firmly. — I did not apply for any loans.
The men exchanged glances. The senior one, Kravtsov, opened his folder.
— That’s strange. We have your application, submitted electronically a week ago. And the day before yesterday, you were supposed to come for the final signing of the documents, but you didn’t show up. Your husband, Volkov Andrey Sergeevich, called and said that you were ill, and asked to reschedule the meeting for today, at 10 am. We agreed to come to your home, since you are sick.
— My husband arranged this? — Irina felt a rage building inside her, cold and searing at the same time.
— Yes. He said he was acting on your power of attorney. We have a notarized scan of the power of attorney.
— Show me, — Irina demanded.
Kravtsov handed her a sheet of paper. A power of attorney in the name of Volkov A.S. to represent the interests of Volkova I.P. in all financial transactions. The signature… her signature. A notary’s seal.
— This is a forgery, — Irina said. — I never gave any power of attorney. And I did not apply for a loan. This is fraud.
The men’s faces became serious. The lawyer, a young guy, took out a voice recorder.
— Allow me to record your statement. Are you claiming that you did not apply for the loan and did not give your husband power of attorney?
— Exactly. My husband is trying to take out a loan in my name without my knowledge. With a forged signature and a forged power of attorney.
— Do you have any proof?
— Yes. Come in, I’ll show you.
Irina led them into the study, showed them the papers she found in the desk. Drafts of contracts, practice signatures. The men examined the documents carefully, exchanged glances, and wrote something down.
— This is serious, — Kravtsov finally said. — If the document forgery is confirmed, it’s a criminal offense. Large-scale fraud. Your husband could face up to six years in prison.
Irina sank into a chair. Six years. Andrey in prison. Her husband, with whom she had lived for eighteen years, with whom she had shared a bed, a table, a life.
— What should I do? — she asked quietly.
— You need to file a police report. We, on our part, will also file a report, as there were attempts to obtain a loan by fraudulent means. Plus, the notary office where the power of attorney was supposedly certified must conduct an investigation.
At that moment, the sound of the front door opening was heard in the hallway. Andrey had returned.
— Ira, I forgot the documents! — he shouted, not yet seeing the guests.
Then he walked into the study and froze. He saw his wife, two men in suits, the papers on the table. His face turned deathly pale.
— Hello, Mr. Volkov, — Kravtsov said coldly. — We were just discussing your financial machinations. Your wife claims she never gave you power of attorney and did not apply for a loan. Do you have anything to say?
Andrey couldn’t utter a word. He looked at Irina, and in his eyes was panic, animal fear.
— I… It’s not what you think, — he finally squeezed out. — Ira, let me explain.
— Explain, — she said evenly, with an icy calm that surprised herself.
— I got into debt. I was gambling. At the casino. I lost a lot. They were threatening me. They said they would beat me up if I didn’t pay them back. I was scared, — the words tumbled out as if from a bag, jumbled, pathetic. — I didn’t want to upset you. I thought I could fix everything. Take out a loan, pay off the debts, and then gradually pay it back. You would have never even known.
— With my apartment as collateral? With a forged signature?
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