“Yes. We need to talk. I think we have a problem.”
They met the next day. Anton Sergeyevich and Gromov listened in silence while Vera told them what had happened. When she finished, a heavy quiet settled over the coffee shop.
“So he knows,” Gromov said first. “The question is how.”
“Sokolov has people everywhere,” the lawyer said grimly. “He could have heard through police contacts, city hall, any number of channels. Or he could simply be watching his ex-wife.”
Vera shivered. Watching her? That possibility hadn’t even occurred to her.
“You mean I’m being followed?”
Gromov shrugged.
“Very possible. For a man with Sokolov’s money, it’s easy enough to hire a couple of guys to track your movements and contacts. He had to know you might not accept the court ruling quietly.”
“Good Lord.” Vera put her hands to her head. “I never even thought of that.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Anton Sergeyevich said gently. “You’re not trained for this. How would you know?”
Gromov checked something on his phone.
“The real question is what we do next. Vera Nikolaevna, you promised your daughter you’d stop. Is that final?”
Vera looked up, tears in her eyes.
“What choice do I have? Masha is my only child. If I keep going, Dmitry will wreck her life. He’ll cut off her tuition, turn her against me for good. I’ll lose her.”
“You may lose her either way,” Gromov said quietly. “If Sokolov keeps feeding her his version of events, sooner or later she’ll believe him completely. And the truth will stay buried.”
“But if I fight, she’ll hate me for ruining her plans.”
“And if you don’t, she may hate you ten years from now when she learns the truth and realizes you never fought.”
Vera closed her eyes. Gromov was right. It was a trap with no clean exit. Whatever she chose, she lost something.
Anton Sergeyevich cleared his throat.
“There is another option. A middle ground.”
“What kind?”
“We continue the investigation, but quietly. No formal requests. No lawsuits yet. We gather evidence under the radar. And when we have enough, we move fast. Hard and without warning, before Sokolov has time to react.”
“Is that possible?”
“In theory, yes. In practice, difficult. We’d have to be very careful. And it will take longer.”
Vera thought for a long time. Outside, a thin, dreary rain had started.
“All right,” she said at last. “We do it quietly. But I want to help. I don’t want to just sit and wait for updates. I need to do something.”
Gromov nodded.
“There is one thing only you can do. Talk to Vitaly Ignatyevich.”
“Dmitry’s uncle?”
“He knows you. Remembers you from family gatherings. He won’t open up to a stranger like me. He’ll be scared. But to his nephew’s ex-wife… maybe.”
Vera pictured the meeting. The old man she had seen only a handful of times. Quiet, forgettable, used by Dmitry like a pawn.
“I’ll try.”
Vitaly Ignatyevich lived in an old five-story walk-up on the far edge of town. Vera had trouble finding the right entrance; the building numbers were faded and half the streetlights were out. At last she found the door, climbed to the third floor, and pressed the buzzer. It didn’t work. She knocked.
No one answered for a long time. Vera was about to assume he wasn’t home when she heard slow shuffling footsteps behind the door.
“Who is it?”
“Vitaly Ignatyevich, it’s Vera. Dmitry’s ex-wife.”
A pause. Then the sound of locks being undone. The door opened as far as the chain would allow. A lined face with wary eyes appeared in the gap.
“Vera? Which Vera?”
