In the reception area, the secretary looked up at her, her eyes full of curiosity and poorly disguised pity. Anisa walked past without a glance. In the factory corridors, the whispering died down when she appeared and flared up with renewed force behind her back. She felt those looks, those murmurs. “Heard about Malinina…”
“They say the first wife was alive all along.” “And her mother really gave her a piece of her mind…” Her world, so stable and orderly, was crumbling before her eyes. Every step through her own factory felt like walking on hot coals. The drive to the bank seemed to take forever. She tried to calm down, to convince herself she was panicking for no reason.
But surely David wouldn’t go that far. To take her money, her personal savings. That would be more than just a lie; it would be theft.
The lowest form of betrayal. But somewhere deep down, she already knew the answer. The bank was cool and quiet.
Only two teller windows were open. Anisa took a number and sat on a hard chair, waiting her turn. She watched the electronic display, the impersonal numbers, and thought that her whole life now depended on similar numbers in a bank account.
“Customer number 47, please go to window 2,” a indifferent electronic voice announced. Anisa approached the counter. A young female teller gave her a standard, professional smile.
“Hello, how can I help you?” “Hello, I’d like to check the balance on my savings account and withdraw some funds.” She handed the girl her passport and bank card. The teller tapped on the keyboard, peering at the monitor.
The smile slowly faded from her face. She looked up at Anisa with a surprised, almost sympathetic expression. “Malinina, Anisa Nikolaevna?” “Yes.”
The girl hesitated. She looked at the monitor again, then back at Anisa. “I’m sorry, but… there’s almost nothing in your account.”
Anisa felt the ground give way beneath her. She gripped the counter to keep from falling. “What do you mean? That’s impossible.”
“Check again. There should be a very large sum there.” “I can see,” the girl said quietly, lowering her voice.
“But… almost the entire amount was withdrawn from the account three days ago. Only the minimum required balance remains.” Three days ago.
That was before the banquet. Before the public humiliation. They had been preparing in advance.
“Who withdrew it?” Anisa’s voice was barely audible. “The account is a joint one with Malinin, David Andreevich. He can perform transactions without your presence, just as you can.”
“I want to see the withdrawal document. The cash receipt slip. Now.”
The frightened girl nodded and disappeared into a back room. Anisa stood, staring at a fixed point. A roaring sound filled her ears.
It was all happening as if in a bad, slow-motion dream. The teller returned a few minutes later, holding a printed sheet of paper. She silently placed it in front of Anisa.
It was a copy of the withdrawal slip. The amount was written out in numbers and words. The exact sum she had been saving for almost three years.
The date—three days ago. And at the bottom, in the “Received by” field, was David’s confident, sprawling signature. She took her passport and card without another word.
She walked out of the bank into the street, and the bright daylight hurt her eyes. She got into her car and sat for several minutes, staring dumbly at the steering wheel. That was it.
The financial safety net was gone. Her money, her labor. Her future—all of it, stolen.
She drove home feeling nothing but a cold emptiness. The rage had burned out, leaving only ashes behind. When she entered the apartment, David was home.
He met her in the hallway with a guilty smile. “You’re home early. Did something happen at work?” She silently walked past him into the kitchen.
She put her bag down. Took out the bank statement she had taken, just in case. Placed it on the table.
“Where is the money, David?” He looked at the paper. And his face instantly changed. He realized she knew everything.
But even now, he didn’t surrender. He decided to play his role to the end. “Anisa, I was going to tell you,” he began to babble, not meeting her eyes.
“I just didn’t know how—” “Where is the money?” she repeated, putting all the coldness she could muster into each word.
He took a deep breath, looked up at her, his eyes full of cosmic sorrow. It was the look of a martyr. “I paid off a debt.”
“The last one, the biggest. For Kira’s clinic. For all these five years.”
“They sent the final bill. The amount was astronomical. I didn’t want to drag you into this, didn’t want to burden you with it, too. We’re going through a hard enough time as it is.”
“I thought I’d handle it myself and explain later. I wanted to protect you from this.” He spoke smoothly, convincingly. The story was logical.
A huge debt for an expensive Swiss clinic. It explained everything.
Anyone else in her place might have believed him. Or at least pretended to. But Anisa looked at him and saw only a liar.
An arrogant, pathetic liar. She didn’t answer. She just looked at him, and there was so much contempt in her gaze that he couldn’t bear it and looked away.
She turned and went to the bedroom, locking the door behind her. She sat on the bed and took out her phone. The only person who could help her now.
She dialed Maria’s number. “Masha, it’s me again. I’m in trouble.” She quickly, succinctly, and without emotion, laid it all out: the empty account, the huge sum.
David’s explanation about the clinic debt. “I don’t believe him,” she finished. “Not a single word.”
“And you’re right not to,” Maria said firmly. “What debt? If there was a clinic, they wouldn’t wait five years to send a bill. Nonsense.”
“Listen to me carefully. My cousin works for a big real estate agency. They’re like spiders in a web; they know about all the big cash deals in the city.”
“Sums like that don’t go unnoticed. Give me an hour. I’ll call him.”
Anisa spent that hour pacing the room. She heard David approach the door a few times, calling her name softly. She didn’t answer…
Finally, the phone rang. It was Maria. “Anisa,” her friend’s voice was tense, strained.
“Are you sitting down?” “Tell me.” “Well, my cousin dug up some information. There was one very large cash transaction three days ago.”
“Very large.” Maria fell silent, as if hesitating to continue. “Masha, don’t drag it out!” Anisa shouted into the phone.
“Anisa. The money. It didn’t go to any clinic,” Maria blurted out.
“It was used to rent an apartment. A luxury one, in a new building, on the other side of town. Paid for in cash, a year in advance.”
Anisa was silent, holding the phone to her ear. Maria’s words didn’t just shock her; they finally broke something inside her. All the pain, humiliation, and fear of the last few days condensed into one tight, icy lump of fury.
The fury was so pure and powerful it eclipsed all other feelings. There were no more questions. No more doubts.
There was only one goal—to see. To see with her own eyes what her money had been spent on. To see the person living in a luxurious apartment paid for by her labor and her devotion.
“Anisa? Can you hear me?” Maria’s voice in the receiver sounded worried. “What are you going to do? Don’t do anything stupid.” “Give me the address.”
Anisa’s voice was even and calm. It was a frightening, unnatural calmness. “Why? Don’t go there.”
“It’s dangerous.” “Masha, give me the address,” she repeated, and there was such steel in her voice that her friend didn’t dare argue further. After writing down the street name and house number, Anisa hung up.
She got up from the bed. Opened the bedroom door. David was still sitting in the kitchen, his head bowed.
He looked up at her, his eyes full of hope and fear. “Anisa, we need to talk. I’ll explain everything.”
“Don’t,” she cut him off. “No more explanations are needed.” She silently walked into the hallway, took her coat from the rack, and put it on.
Picked up her bag. Her movements were precise and measured, like a surgeon’s before an operation. “Where are you going?” Panic sounded in his voice.
He jumped up and ran over to her. “Don’t leave. Let’s sort this out here, now.”…
