It was a purchase and sale agreement, dated two weeks prior. It stated that I, Naomi Ann Sterling, had sold my three-bedroom apartment in the city center to my husband, Marcus David Sterling, for a symbolic sum of $25,000, and at the bottom, beneath the text, was my signature. Clear, neat, identical to my actual signature, down to the last flourish, perfect and absolutely 100% fake.
I looked at the paper, and only one thought was in my head. This can’t be. This simply cannot be.
I would never sell my apartment, never, not for any amount of money. «This, this is forgery,» I whispered, unable to tear my gaze from the fake signature. Mr. Wells took the contract from me and examined it closely.
«Yes, it’s obvious,» he said without lifting his head. «The signature is very skillfully done, but there are signs indicating it’s not the original.» Marcus sneered. «Don’t make me laugh, Counselor. All my documents are in order, notarized. If your client had a change of heart, that’s her problem.»
«This contract has no legal force,» Mr. Wells stated firmly. «We will file a police report for document forgery and fraud, and I am confident that an expert analysis will confirm we are right.» «Go ahead and file,» Marcus shrugged. «That’s your right. I just fear that by then your client will have nowhere to live, or anything else.»
«By the way, gentlemen,» he turned back to the deputy. «I’d like to add another point to my statement. I suspect my wife stole a large sum of money from the apartment and is hiding from me.»
I gasped. «What are you talking about? What money?» «Don’t pretend, Naomi,» Marcus cooed sweetly. «You know exactly what I’m talking about. You took all my savings, every last penny, and now you’re trying to run away.»
«That’s a lie,» I screamed. «I didn’t take anything.» The officers exchanged glances.
The situation was getting more and more complicated. A domestic dispute, divorce, an apartment, money. They clearly didn’t want to get involved.
«All right, folks,» the deputy said. «We need to file a report. Let’s go down to the precinct and sort this out.»
«I’ll go with you,» Mr. Wells declared. Marcus nodded to Tiffany. She took keys from her purse and opened the apartment door.
«Excuse me, officers, but I must leave. I have an important meeting. Marcus, call me.»
She shot me a look of contempt and disappeared into the apartment, leaving the door ajar. Marcus watched her go and turned to me with a triumphant smile. «Well, Naomi, is this where you land? Left without an apartment, without money, and now you’ll be branded a thief. Who will believe you? I have everything tied up. You’re nobody.»
I looked at him and saw nothing but pure hatred. He had turned into a monster, a malicious, vengeful, and utterly unprincipled monster. And I suddenly realized I had lost.
He had outmaneuvered me. He had destroyed me. The officers led Mr. Wells and me toward the squad car.
I walked as if in a fog, feeling neither the ground beneath my feet, nor the cold, nor the shame, only emptiness. We spent several hours at the precinct, filing a report, questioning, explaining. It was all useless.
The police were clearly siding with Marcus. They asked me leading questions, pressured me, tried to confuse me. Mr. Wells tried to object, but they wouldn’t listen to his arguments.
Finally, in the early morning, they let us go. I left the precinct completely shattered and drained. Mr. Wells silently led me to his car.
«I’ll take you back to Ms. Vance,» he said. We drove the whole way in silence. I stared out the window, seeing nothing but my defeat.
I had nowhere to go. I had no money. I was homeless.
And what was worse, I was powerless. Marcus had stolen everything from me, even my identity. At Eleanor Vance’s house, I was met with reserve.
Estelle showed me to my room and silently brought me breakfast. Eleanor Vance summoned me only after lunch. She sat in her armchair like a queen on a throne.
There was neither sympathy nor regret in her eyes, only a cold, assessing gaze. «Well, Naomi,» she asked, «did you finish playing the victim? I gave you every opportunity to fight, and what did you do? You allowed yourself to be destroyed.»
I said nothing. I didn’t know what to say. «Do you understand that you are now nobody?» Eleanor Vance continued.
«Homeless, jobless, with a ruined reputation. Your husband did everything to destroy you, and I must admit, he succeeded.» «What should I do?» I asked quietly.
«What should you do?» Eleanor Vance sneered contemptuously. «Sue. File a claim in court. Prove that the purchase and sale agreement is fake. Demand an expert analysis. Hire detectives.»
«It’s long, expensive, and most likely useless. Your husband has everything locked down. You’ll waste a year of your life and a heap of money, and in the end, you’ll accomplish nothing.»
«But what should I do then?» I cried out in desperation. «Fight,» Eleanor Vance cut in. «But not in court. All’s fair in love and war. Reputation is the most valuable thing you have left, and it can be used.»
«Marcus wants everyone to think you’re an alcoholic and a thief. Fine. We will make sure everyone sees who he really is.»
«How? Publicly? He’s playing politics. He wants to be a respected man.»
«Then we will attack his reputation. We will make his name synonymous with corruption and deception.» «But how can we do that? He has everything locked down. No one will believe me.»
«Belief is irrelevant,» Eleanor Vance replied. «What matters is that people talk about it. What matters is that his name is on everyone’s lips. What matters is creating a public outcry so massive that even his patrons can’t protect him.»
She paused, looking at me with her piercing eyes. «Tomorrow, there’s a charity gala downtown. All the city’s elite will be there. Politicians, businessmen, officials. And your husband is giving a speech. That’s your chance.»
«What do I need to do?» «You need to go there,» Eleanor Vance replied, «and ask him just one question. Publicly, in front of everyone. And that question must be one he cannot answer.»
«What question?» «You’ll find out,» Eleanor Vance smiled. «Now go get ready. Estelle will give you a dress. You must look flawless. You must show everyone that you are not broken. You must be a queen.»
I left Eleanor Vance’s study with a sense of vague unease. I didn’t know what awaited me. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.
But I knew one thing. I would no longer be a victim. I would fight.
Estelle did bring me dresses. Evening wear. Elegant, perfectly fitted.
She also did my hair and makeup. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself. Before me stood a different woman.
Strong, confident, ready for battle. Darius drove me to the building where the gala was taking place. People in evening attire were milling around the entrance.
Music played and camera flashes popped. I got out of the car and, head held high, walked toward the doors. I felt as if I were walking a tightrope, aware of the gazes of hundreds of eyes.
People recognized me, whispered, and looked back. But no one dared to approach. I entered the hall and froze.
The luxurious decorations, the crystal chandeliers, the exquisite appetizers. It all seemed like a backdrop from someone else’s life. I saw Marcus.
He was standing on the stage, surrounded by important officials and businessmen, speaking into a microphone. His face shone with smug self-satisfaction. I began to make my way toward the stage.
People parted before me as if I were a ghost. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I had to do this.
I had to ask that question. Marcus finished his speech and the hall erupted in applause. He came down from the stage and headed toward the exit.
This was my chance. I intercepted him right at the door. «Marcus,» I said loudly.
He flinched and turned around. Seeing me, he was speechless for a moment. His face twisted with fury.
«What are you doing here? How did you get in?» «Tell me, Marcus,» I said calmly, looking him straight in the eyes. «Where did you get the right to sell my mother’s apartment?»
Silence fell over the hall. All eyes were fixed on us. Marcus went pale.
He tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat. And then, as if from nowhere, Tiffany stepped between us. She grabbed Marcus’s arm and pulled him aside.
«Don’t pay attention to her,» Tiffany said loudly, addressing the crowd. «She’s drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She has a mental disorder.»
She pulled her phone from her clutch. «See for yourselves.» She pressed a button, and the sound came from the phone’s speaker.
The sound of a drunken, slurring voice. My voice. An image appeared on the phone screen.
I saw myself. I was sitting at a table at some party. I was drunk.
I was laughing, mumbling something, and incoherently singing some song. The video had been filmed a few weeks earlier at my nephew’s birthday party. I remembered that evening.
I had too much wine, but I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was just having fun. Tiffany stopped the recording.
«See,» she said, looking at the crowd. «She doesn’t even remember what happened last night. What makes you think she knows anything about paperwork?»
A silence fell over the hall. But this was a different silence. Not tense and expectant, but sympathetic and judgmental.
Someone chuckled. Someone else snorted contemptuously. Someone shook their head.
I felt my face burn with shame. I wasn’t just embarrassed. I was humiliated.
I had been made a laughingstock, trampled into the dirt. Tiffany smiled triumphantly. «You see what she’s really like? A miserable, drunken woman who is trying to ruin the life of a successful man. Don’t believe her. She’s lying.»
The crowd began to disperse. People turned away from me as if I were a leper. No one wanted anything to do with me.
I stood alone in the middle of the hall, humiliated, disgraced, and crushed. My attempt to fight had turned into a complete failure. Marcus and Tiffany had won.
They had destroyed me completely and irrevocably. I didn’t remember how I left the hall. The snickers and whispers merged into a single buzzing swarm that followed me to the exit.
I stood on the cold porch, hugging myself, watching the cars drive by. I wanted to disappear, to dissolve, to sink into the ground. At that moment, the familiar black sedan stopped silently beside me.
Darius got out, opened the back door, and simply looked at me. No words, no questions. He just waited.
I silently got into the car. We drove the whole way to Eleanor Vance’s estate in complete silence. I stared out the window at the city lights but only saw my reflection in the glass, a woman in an expensive dress with smeared makeup and empty eyes.
Eleanor’s plan had failed. No, I had failed it. I was a victim again, only this time a public one.
The next morning brought new blows. First, my boss from the plant, Mr. Thompson, called me. His voice was dry and official.
«Naomi Sterling, good morning. Due to the current situation and the public scandal that could damage our company’s reputation, management has made a decision. You are on indefinite suspension without pay.»
«But Mr. Thompson, that’s not true.» I tried to object. «It’s all slander.»
«I don’t know.» He cut me off. «And I don’t want to know. We run a serious business, not a place for family disputes. The documents will be sent to you by courier. Goodbye.»
The line went dead. I was fired, politely, legally, but it was a termination. I tried to call my only close friend who worked in the same department as me.
The phone rang, but no one picked up. An hour later, a short text arrived. «Naomi, sorry, can’t talk right now. And please don’t call me again. I have a family and kids, and I don’t need problems.»
I had become a pariah. Marcus and Tiffany had turned me into a social outcast overnight. Eleanor Vance summoned me only that evening.
She was furious, but her anger was not directed at Marcus. «You’re weak,» she spat out as soon as I crossed the threshold of her study. «I put a weapon in your hands, and you let him knock it out of your grasp and use that same weapon to beat you. You stepped into the ring and gave up after the first punch.»
«But what could I do?» I whispered. «She showed that video.» «You should have been ready for it,» Eleanor interrupted.
«Didn’t you know your husband? Didn’t you know what kind of treachery he was capable of? The lawsuit for signature forgery is now an empty threat.»
«Mr. Wells has already found out everything. The experts in our city are bought. They will conclude that the signature is genuine.»
«They’ll say you signed the contract while in an incapacitated state and now simply don’t remember it. That video is the perfect confirmation. The case will be closed before it even opens.»
«You lost.» Eleanor’s words were ruthless, but fair. I sank into the chair, feeling completely powerless.
All paths were blocked. The court, the police, public opinion, everything was on Marcus’ side. «So, this is the end?» I asked hollowly.
«For the weak, yes,» Eleanor replied coldly. «For those who fight, no, think. There must be something he didn’t account for.»
«Some small detail, some document that he couldn’t fake. Something that will prove your undeniable right to that apartment.» I closed my eyes, trying to focus.
I went through everything related to the apartment in my memory. And suddenly, an image flashed into my mind. The old blue folder.
My father kept all the most important documents in it. Birth certificates, diplomas, and yes, the original privatization agreement for the apartment and the certificate of inheritance. The originals, with live signatures, seals, and watermarks.
Marcus couldn’t fake those documents. «I have it,» I said, opening my eyes. «The originals, the genuine contract and the certificate of inheritance.»
«With those, any lawyer can prove the purchase and sale agreement is a sham.» «Where are they?» Eleanor asked immediately. «At our old family cabin in Willow Creek. My father always kept the most important papers there. He didn’t trust city apartments. He said they were easier to steal from there.»
«Good,» Eleanor nodded. «This is a chance, but we must act quickly and quietly. No one must know you’re going there, especially your husband.»
That very night, I set out. Darius drove me to the outskirts of the settlement and dropped me off. «You have two hours,» he said. «Then I will be waiting in this exact spot. If you don’t show, I leave. Eleanor Vance does not like it when her people get caught doing stupid things.»
I nodded. I walked through the dark, deserted streets of the old vacation community. Our cabin stood right on the edge of the woods.
A small, rickety house where I spent my whole childhood. There was no electricity or running water here. Marcus hated the place and called it a shack.
We hadn’t been here in several years. The tall fence my father had built was leaning. The gate was secured with a rusted lock.
I had to climb over the fence, scraping my arm painfully. But I ignored it. The fear of being caught spurred me on.
The house door was also locked. I went around the house, checking the windows. One that faced the garden gave way.
