“He offered language lessons, etiquette coaching, all sorts of opportunities. But Zoe preferred to stay home and showed little interest in self-improvement. At business events, she was uncomfortable and unable to carry on a conversation with my son’s associates.”
“That was not helpful to the company’s reputation,” she added. Every sentence landed clean and cold, rewriting history with impressive confidence. Victor’s testimony was brief but effective.
“My son deserves an equal partner in life,” he said. “Zoe, unfortunately, was not suited to the standards of the Severtsev family.” Regina was not formally called as a witness, but her presence said enough.
She sat there with her legs crossed, looking at me with barely concealed amusement. The future Mrs. Severtsev had come to watch the old model get cleared out. Finally, it was Gleb’s turn.
He stood and straightened his shoulders, the very image of a successful man regrettably forced to end an unfortunate marriage. His voice was measured and noble. “Your Honor, I sincerely loved my wife, but over time we became strangers.”
“I don’t blame Zoe. She’s a good person. We simply come from different worlds. I ask the court to dissolve the marriage, and I am willing to provide reasonable support while she finds work and gets back on her feet.” Reasonable support. Coming from a man who spent more on one bracelet for his mistress than most people spend on a used car.
My lawyer made a few standard arguments about my contribution through homemaking and support of the household. Next to Krasnov, he looked like a middle-school teacher debating a television pundit. Finally, it was my turn.
I stood slowly, shoulders rounded, every inch the defeated wife. “I… I loved my husband and tried to be a good wife. If I fell short, I’m sorry,” I said softly. Gleb looked openly pleased. Everything was going according to script.
Regina’s smile widened. Eleanor arranged her face into something like pity. Even Victor looked at me, though still with that same detached indifference.
“Does the defense have any further evidence?” the judge asked. Arthur stood, holding a plain white envelope in slightly trembling hands. “Yes, Your Honor. One final submission—a letter from my client”…
