No husband, no success, whispered her old classmates behind her back at the school reunion. Their faces froze when her companion walked into the room.
Look, Belyaevas here. Alone, as usual.
The words stabbed Ksenia like a knife between the ribs. She didnt turn around. Why bother? She already knew who it was. Veronica Odintsova.
The queen bee of their school days, whose venom had only grown stronger over the years.
The restaurant buzzed like a disturbed hive. Ten years later. The music blared, drowning out the clinking glasses and hollow compliments.
Ksenia took a few steps inside, feeling like shed entered enemy territory. She knew her arrival wouldnt go unnoticed.
And that dress probably from some discount store, chimed in another voice. Svetlana PolyakovaVeronicas eternal sidekick.
Ksenia ran her finger along the rim of her mineral water glass. The dress had been custom-made from her own designs. But they wouldnt understand that. To them, value was measured in flashy logos.
She scanned the room. The same faces, now marked by timesome with receding hairlines, others with crows feet or extra weight. But in their eyes, the same hunger to prove themselves at someone elses expense.
She felt their stares burning into her back. They were waiting for a reaction. Waiting for her to shrink, to flee to the bathroom like she had in tenth grade when theyd poured a can of ice-cold soda down her collar in front of the whole cafeteria.
But Ksenia didnt shrink. She just adjusted the flawless fold of her sleeve.
She took a sip. The water tasted bland.
Veronica couldnt stand the silence. She approached, dripping in sequins and smugness, her entourage trailing behind like shadows.
Ksenia! Hi! I thought you wouldnt come. Too scared?
Her smile was a work of artperfect veneers, not an ounce of warmth.
Good evening, Veronica, Ksenia replied evenly, meeting her gaze.
So, how are you? Still buried in dusty archives? Sorting through paperwork no one cares about?
It wasnt a question. It was a statement. A declaration of her worthlessness.
I changed jobs.
Oh really? Veronicas voice dripped with mock surprise. Promoted to senior archivist with a hazard pay bonus?
A hush fell around them. Conversations stopped. Everyone watched. This was their little show.
Ksenia smiled faintly. She knew what they wanted. They craved confirmation of a dull, gray lifeof a mortgage she struggled with alone, of dead-end prospects. Proof that their school hierarchy had been right all along.
That they were the winners, and she was still on the sidelines.
Something like that, Ksenia said vaguely, giving them exactly what they wanted.
Veronica snorted triumphantly and turned back to her flock, as if to say, *See? Told you.*
I knew it. Nothing ever changes. No love life, no proper career.
The words rang out loud enough for everyone to hear. A verdict, delivered and sealed.
Ksenia lowered her eyes to her glass. The fingers holding the stem didnt even tremble. She just waited.
Then, the heavy restaurant doors swung open.
A man walked in.
Tall, in an immaculate suit worth more than all their cars combined. His movements were steady, effortless. He murmured something to the host before scanning the room.
The noisy crowd of alumni seemed to choke on their own chatter. The music suddenly felt too loud, too out of place.
Every female gaze locked onto him. Who was he? A politician? A businessman?
The man frowned, searching the roomthen his expression softened. He smiled, a smile Ksenia saw every morning. A smile meant only for her.
Ignoring the frozen faces and gaping mouths, he strode across the room. Straight to her table.
He touched her shoulder lightly.
Sorry Im late. Got held up in a meeting.
Ksenia looked up and smiled backwarm, real.
Its fine, Svyatoslav. I knew youd come.
He leaned down and kissed herjust a brush of lips, but it carried more intimacy than any grand gesture.
Veronicas face twisted in disbelief. Her brain short-circuited, scrambling to process what didnt fit her worldview.
She recovered first. Of course she did.
Ksenia, arent you going to introduce us? Her voice oozed sickly sweetness.
Veronica, this is Svyatoslav, Ksenia said calmly. Svyatoslav, these are my former classmates.
Someone at the table dropped a fork.
Wait Orlov? *The* Svyatoslav Orlov?
Recognition crackled through the room like lightning. Phones that had been filming drunken dancing moments ago now swiveled toward them.
Svyatoslav Orlov. The rock star whose ballads dominated every radio station, whose concert tickets sold out in hours.
Veronica paled under her foundation. This was a gut punch. It shattered everything.
But she wasnt done. Her weapon had never been brute forcejust poison served with a smile.
Well, well We were just saying how Belyaeva had no husband or success. Turns out you just took the easy way out.
Her eyes raked Ksenia up and down.
Always the quiet one, but you didnt miss your chance, did you? Good for you.
It was a slap disguised as praise. An accusation of gold-digging. A way to reduce it all to something cheap.
Ksenia felt something tighten inside her. Shed wanted one thinga peaceful evening. She tried to deflect.
Veronica, lets not do this. Were here to catch up.
Mistake. Her restraint was taken as weakness. As guilt.
Oh, come on! Veronica laughed, now addressing the crowd. Were just curious! How did our little wallflower snag someone like *him*? Whats your secret, Belyaeva? Your thrilling stories about dusty manuscripts?
Svyatoslav tensed. He glanced at Ksenia, waiting for her signal. But she stayed silent, just looking at her old tormentor.
She didnt see a grown woman. She saw the same schoolgirl whod thrived on humiliation. Whod always needed someone to trample to feel tall.
And her plan for the nightto come, stay polite, and leave with her head highshattered.
Veronica, savoring the moment, went for the kill.
Or is this just a rental? Heard its trendy to hire pretty boys for events. Whats the hourly rate for a rock star, huh? Share the contact.
Her entourage burst into laughter.
And in that moment, Ksenia realized.
*Enough.*
Svyatoslav stepped forward, his jaw tight.
Listen
But Ksenia stopped him with a hand on his chest. A silent *Ive got this.* He obeyed.
She stood slowly, deliberately. No rush, no tremor. Just cold, absolute calm. She looked Veronica in the eye.
You asked what I do.
Her voice was soft, but in the silence, it carried. The voice of someone who wasnt afraid anymore.
You were almost right. My work *did* start in an archive. There, in a pile of old tapes, I found a demosome unknown guy with an incredible voice and a guitar.
She glanced at Svyatoslav.
I spent a year restoring that recording, tracking him down, convincing him his music deserved to be heard. Then four more years building the company that made him a star.
A pause. Letting it sink in.
For the last four years, Ive been CEO and co-owner of Orlov Music.
Phones that had been pointed at them now clicked furiously.
Every platinum album, every European tour, every endorsement dealthats my work. I didnt *find* him, Veronica. I built an empire around his talent.
Veronicas face slackened. Her makeup couldnt hide the blotchy panic underneath. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Ksenia continued, tone unchanging.
As for the rental idea Interesting take. Especially from you.
Her gaze shifted to the man behind Veronicaher husband, polished but visibly nervous.
Your family business, Vector Media, right? Just last week, I declined an offer to buy it.
Veronicas husband flinched like hed been struck.
My legal teams verdict? Too risky. Unstable management, questionable reputation. And crippling debt.
Now *he* went pale. He stared at his wife with undisguised horror.
Ksenia turned back to Veronica. Eye to eye.
So if were talking contracts and contacts Maybe your husband should book an appointment with me. Though after tonight? I doubt Ill have time for him.
She picked up her purse.
Svyatoslav,
