I took out my phone and started dialing the number. Dima lunged at me, tried to snatch the phone, but I pushed him away. He didn’t expect resistance and staggered. There was animal fear in his eyes.
— Ann, don’t do this, you’ll ruin my life!
— You ruined mine, — I replied, putting the phone to my ear, — and I’m just setting things right.
Three months passed. Autumn had set in, painting the city in gold and crimson. I was sitting in a cozy café downtown, drinking a hot latte and watching people hurry about their business. I was wearing a new, elegant coat and low-heeled shoes. I felt as if I had woken up from a long, painful dream.
The café door chimed, and Olga walked in. She smiled when she saw me.
— Hey, look at you, you look absolutely stunning. New haircut?
— Hey, yeah, I decided it was time for a change, — I smiled back.
She sat down opposite me and placed her order.
— So, how are our actors from the Bolshoi and Maly theaters? Any news?
I took a sip of my coffee.
— There is. Both are under investigation. Grand-scale fraud, conspiracy. The insurance company filed its lawsuit, and I filed mine. The lawyer says it’s a sure thing, the evidence is rock-solid. They’ll most likely go to jail. Stas is trying to pin it all on Dima. Dima on him. A pathetic sight. I got the divorce last week…
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