My eyes locked with my mother-in-law’s. She looked ghostly pale, clutching a shaking envelope. The loud music of the mansion’s ballroom drowned out everything as she slipped it into my hand and vanished into the crowd.
That morning was supposed to be perfect. The mansion was glowing, roses in the air, champagne flowing. But Sergei, my fiancé, was distant—tense, whispering on the phone across the room.
I opened the envelope in a quiet corner.
“They plan to get rid of you after the wedding. It’s about your inheritance. Run.”
I wanted to laugh—until I remembered the strange calls, his coldness. When I looked up, Sergei was watching me. And his gaze wasn’t loving. It was calculating.
“Coming!” I called to my bridesmaid and slipped out through the service hall, barefoot.
An hour later, I was on a train, dressed in kiosk clothes, fleeing to a new life.
Fifteen years passed. Now I was Vera, serving coffee in a quiet Kaliningrad café. I’d traded luxury for peace—until I saw his name in the news.
“Sergei Romanov, CEO, under fraud investigation. Fiancée’s disappearance still unsolved.”
“Lena,” I whispered over the phone, “I can’t go back.”
“You must. He’s finally vulnerable.”
I hesitated. “What about his mother?”
“She’s in a nursing home. He silenced her years ago.”
I visited her—frail, but sharp-eyed.
“I kept everything,” she said. “Proof of what he’s done. I was waiting for you.”
I returned to RomanovGroup posing as an auditor. Beneath Sergei’s office, I uncovered hidden transactions and scared accountants.
“It’s time,” I told Lena. But she was being followed. We had to act fast.
I stormed Sergei’s office. He froze.
“You…”
“Hello again. Your mother says hi.”
I laid down the evidence. As investigators approached, he laughed bitterly.
“Yes, I planned to kill you. It was all business.”
“And now?” I asked.
He said nothing as the door burst open.
Months later, I served cappuccinos again—this time in a café I owned.
“Will you return to your old life?” the professor asked.
I smiled. “That life is gone. This one’s mine.”
Rain tapped softly on the windows. And for the first time in years, I felt free.
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