A thick, reddish-brown leather folder thudded onto the desk. I glanced at my assistant, Sonya. Usually confident and agile, she was now nervously wringing the edge of her jacket, staring at the floor. Outside, the Moscow autumn drenched everyone in cold, icy rain.
“Vera Andreyevna… this… well, it’s from the Pechatniki preliminary files. Urgent legal request. Serious case. Fraud of particularly large value, as well as involvement in organizing a murder… You know… that case.”
“Sonya, our client list is booked for a month. Give it to the interns, let them practice.”“They won’t accept it,” she finally raised her eyes. “The client specifically requests you. And the name… you’ll recognize it. Skvorcova. Kristina Skvorcova.”
The air in the room froze. I slowly pulled the folder toward me and opened it. Her eyes looked back at me from a black-and-white photo.Five years had passed. Five years, and I still remembered her scent — sweet, vanilla, overly feminine.
That night, Boris had thrown me out of the house in classic melodrama style. I stood on the steps in my home clothes, clutching an old Toyota key in my hand, while my suitcase rolled down the stairs, scattering belongings, books, cosmetics.
“Pack your things, you’re outdated!” Boris laughed at the entrance. Drunk, cruel, proudly displaying his open malice. “Look at yourself, Vera! You’re like an old TV. It works, but the picture is no longer right. And Kristina… Kristina is plasma! 4K!”
Kristina stood behind Boris, wrapped in my scarf. Twenty-two years old. Chewing gum, looking at me with pity.“I’m sorry, Vera. Boris will rent you an apartment. In Bibirevo. At first.”
I vanished into the void that day. Slept in cars, washed at gas stations, ate instant noodles while reclaiming my diploma and rebuilding my foundations. I survived. I hardened, became valuable, and unpleasant to anyone daring to oppose me.
And now the “4K Plasma” sat in the preliminary files, potentially facing fifteen years, accused of stealing seventy million from her ex-husband and commissioning an associate.“Leave it, Sonya,” my voice was dry. “I’ll take it. Prepare the authorization.”
The visiting room at the prison smelled musty and of cheap tobacco. I sat straight, hands on the table, waiting.When she was brought in, I almost asked the guards if they’d made a mistake. The carefully groomed young woman was gone. In front of me sat a trembling figure in a gray robe, earth-toned skin.
Kristina shrugged, lifted her gaze. At first, she didn’t recognize me. When she did, she shrank, covering her mouth with her hands.“Y-you… You?” she croaked. Her voice sounded torn. “Boris sent you? To ruin me completely? To humiliate me?”
“Boris Ignatievich doesn’t even know about me,” I opened my notebook without looking at her. “Listen, Kristina. You have two paths. One: a state lawyer who passively watches the sessions, and you end up in a Mordovia prison for eleven to twelve years. The other: me. I’m strict, dear, but I solve the hardest situations.”
“Why?” she wiped tears from her dirty face. “I… I took everything from you. The house, the husband…”“You only took what was unnecessary,” I shot back. “The house… that’s just walls. Tell me everything. Every little detail. And don’t lie.”
Kristina spoke hesitantly. The picture began to form. Two years ago, Boris had made her a nominal director at his company: “Just sign, darling, it’s for optimization.” She had signed. Without reading.
A month ago, an audit began at the company. Suddenly, huge sums had disappeared from the accounts. The chief accountant, who knew too much and wanted to report it, “accidentally” had an accident.
“Boris came to me,” Kristina whispered, staring at the table. “‘Kris, take responsibility for the finances. Say you did it. You’ll get a few years conditionally, I’ll pay everything, I’ll bribe the judge. If they find me — we’ll both be inside, and no money.’
I agreed… I was naive, Vera Andreyevna, I trusted him! Yesterday, the investigator showed me the evidence. And the murder plot was there too. Boris said I… that I organized it out of jealousy for the money.”
“Classic,” I noted. “Where were you the day the chief accountant had the accident?”“At the clinic,” she sobbed. “Facial… treatments… four hours of strong medications.”“Documents?”“None. Private clinic, ‘for selected clients only.’ No records, so wealthy wives wouldn’t get caught. Boris said the camera footage was deleted. ‘System error.’”
She slammed the notebook shut.“Calm down. A ‘system error’ is a beginner’s trap. Boris was always stingy. Saves on specialists.”For three days, we worked in the office, my team and I. Exhausted. Boris was sure of his impunity, and that was his weak point.
He thought I was still that “old furniture” from five years ago. He didn’t know I had become much stronger.The trail wasn’t found in the bank or the clinic. It was in the phone. Kristina strictly monitored her health and weight. The app synced with her smartwatch and smart home system.
“Vera Andreyevna, look!” Pasha, our IT guy, pointed at the laptop. “The account is shared. Kristina didn’t log out when she was arrested. Here’s the event log from October 18.”19:40 – Voice command: “Alisa, light the study.”19:42 – “Alisa, play music. Loudly.”
19:45 – Accessed banking app from the ‘Study’ IP.At that time, allegedly, Kristina had already transferred and called the executor. Even though she was physically at the clinic under the influence of medication. The voice giving the commands…
“Pasha, I need the audio files. Yandex stores the request history.”“Only with a court order,” Pasha grumbled.“There will be an order. But first… I need to meet the ‘victim.’”Boris arranged the meeting at the Turandot restaurant. Splendid, gilded, white-gloved waiters. He sat at the table like the ruler of the universe.
“Vera!” he smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “Well… you look good. Do clients really pay?”“Hello, Boris. Let’s get to the point.”“Let’s be kind. Drop the case. Cite conflict of interest, illness… I…” he tossed an envelope on the table. “This for a new car, vacation.”
I didn’t look at him. Ordered water.“You’re scared, Boris.”“Me?” Nervous laugh. “Why would I be? This fool signed all the papers. She’ll be the victim. Take care if you dare — I’ll erase you. I have connections. You’ll lose your status, mop the floor.”
“Remember when you said I was outdated?” I sipped water. “You know, old machines sometimes write better than the new ones. You forgot Alisa, Boris. You always forgot to turn off the voice commands. Too lazy to adjust the settings.”
He gasped. The villa’s plates clinked. His face slowly reddened.“You’re bluffing.”“At 19:42, you commanded the music loudly so the other phone couldn’t hear. Then you dictated the password for Kristina’s token because you were too lazy to type.”
“You… bastard!” he hissed. “If this gets out…”“It’s already out. Copy to the defense. Original on the company servers. Tomorrow, court. Boris. Hire a good lawyer. Though… no one will help anymore.”
I left, not waiting for the bill. He looked back, his heavy gaze piercing my back. I didn’t care. I felt like a bulldozer demolishing a rotten barn.In the courthouse hallway, a crowd of journalists waited. The case would be huge. Boris arrived with his full staff. Confident, arrogant, but I saw his hand tremble as he poured water.
Kristina sat in the defense booth, pale. She just looked at me.The trial proceeded laboriously. The prosecutor pressed, shaking the documents with Kristina’s signature. Boris’s lawyers emphasized procedural irregularities.
“Your Honor!” I stood. “We would like to submit new evidence: smart home audio recordings, officially requested. Also, the victim’s phone data proving she was in the study at the time, where the computer and access keys were located.”
The judge, a strict woman, nodded.“Proceed.”Silence. Boris’s self-satisfied, smug voice: “Alisa, louder music. Hello? Ready. She’ll be at fault. Handle the accountant. Today. Now transfer, password… Alisa, stop music!”Silence.
Boris jumped.“This is a montage! AI forged it!”“The expert examination confirmed its authenticity,” I said calmly. “And there’s no sign of falsification.”Boris paled. His lawyers whispered among themselves. They knew he had lost.
The judge called a recess. An hour later, Kristina was released under written obligations. Boris immediately sat in handcuffs. The investigator looked away — he might have questions too.Boris looked at me from behind the bars. No guilt, no remorse. Only fear and disbelief: how could this happen to him?
“I will destroy you…” he whispered.“You destroyed yourself five years ago,” I replied softly.We walked to the courthouse exit. Snow fell. Kristina stood beside me, taking deep breaths of cold air.
Still in the clothes she wore at the arrest, but her eyes sparkled.“Vera Andreyevna…” she touched my arm cautiously. “Thank you… I don’t know… how can I ever repay you? I have nothing, cards blocked.”
I looked at her. I didn’t pity her. I didn’t rejoice either. She was just a naive girl who wanted a beautiful life and didn’t read the fine print.“You don’t need to, Kristina. Think of it as charity. Go. And please, start reading what you sign.”
She nodded, tears in her eyes, and went on a path where no one awaited her. No friends, no admirers.I went to my car. Brand-new SUV. Slammed the door, the warmth resting on my hand. In the rearview mirror, I didn’t see the dumped wife. I saw a woman who could do anything.
My phone beeped. From Sonya: “Vera Andreyevna, journalists are swarming the phone. Interview request. What should I say?”I smiled and typed: “Tell them I’m busy. I have a date.”I started the engine. A date with myself, the quiet evening, and a glass of red wine. I deserved it.“Always asking, Mom. I’m done,” said my son, and left.
