The doorbell rang a month later—insistent, angry, demanding. Through the peephole, Viktoria saw Valery and some guy in a leather jacket with a folder under his arm, clearly not a lawyer, more like a “fixer” from the nineties. She opened the door but kept the chain on.
“Let me in!” Valery’s voice was shrill with poorly concealed rage. “We need to have a serious talk.”
“Say what you need to say here, I’m listening.”
“This is my lawyer.” He nodded at the guy in the leather jacket. “We’re suing. You tricked me into signing away the inheritance, taking advantage of my state. You’re an unworthy heir because you drove my mother to her death with poor care, you didn’t provide proper treatment.”
Viktoria removed the chain.
“Come in, since you’re here.”
In the kitchen, she sat them down opposite her at the old table, placed her laptop and a stack of folders in front of her, and demonstratively turned on the voice recorder on her phone so they could see.
“Before you start with your threats, take a look at this,” she said calmly.
The first folder. Printouts of transactions from Valery’s cards. History of bets on gambling sites. Screenshots of conversations with Lilia.
“This is proof that my ex-husband spent three months squandering money in casinos and on his mistress while I was caring for his dying mother.”
The second folder. Documents of the shell company “Dnipro Tech Supply.” Payment orders, scans of fake contracts.
“And this is proof of embezzlement of funds from the plant through a shell company. Article 190, Part 4 of the Criminal Code of Ukraine, up to twelve years with confiscation of property.”
The third folder. The draft of the forged will and a medical certificate on her mother-in-law’s condition on that date, certified with a hospital seal.
“And finally, a fabricated draft will with the signature of a woman who was in a coma that day and physically could not hold a pen. Article 358, forgery of documents.”
The “fixer” in the leather jacket turned pale, jumped up, and started backing towards the door.
“Listen, man, you didn’t tell me about this stuff… I’m not getting involved in this, this is not my level.”
He almost ran out of the apartment, slamming the door loudly. Valery was left alone, slumped in his chair.
“What do you want?” he asked hoarsely, without looking up.
“From you—nothing.” Viktoria looked at him without hatred, only with infinite weariness. “Just disappear from my life forever. If I hear about any more lawsuits or threats, all of this will go to the police and the plant on the same day.”
He stood up to leave, hunched over like an old man. At the door, Viktoria stopped him:
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