It was a bright May morning, and the day had started with high hopes. Sergey’s family mansion was all set to host an array of guests. Waiters moved gracefully between the tables, arranging sparkling crystal glasses while the air was filled with the scent of fresh roses and premium champagne. Expensive paintings adorned the walls, looking down on the bustling scene.
"Anastasia, have you noticed anything strange about Sergey today?" my mother-in-law, Vera, whispered, eyeing the crowd.
I frowned, noting Sergey’s nervous demeanor. He had been tense all day, and now, he stood at the far end of the hall, his phone pressed to his ear, his expression unreadable.
"It’s just pre-wedding jitters," I replied, adjusting my veil.
Without another word, Vera shoved an envelope into my hand before dissolving into the crowd, her smile returning to its usual, polished appearance.
I hurriedly stepped behind a column and opened the envelope. My heart stopped.
“Sergey and his company are planning to get rid of you after the wedding. You’re just a part of their plan. They know about your family’s inheritance. Run if you want to stay safe.”
At first, I thought it was some kind of prank, maybe a misguided joke from Vera. But then I remembered the strange conversations Sergey had had recently, his coldness toward me, and the abrupt way he cut off our discussions when I entered the room.
Across the hall, Sergey ended his call and turned toward me. His eyes met mine with a cold, calculating look.
"Nastya!" my bridesmaid called out. "Time to go!"
"Just a minute, I need to check the restroom!" I said, quickly exiting through the service corridor.
Once outside, I discarded my shoes and waved dismissively at the gardener who raised his eyebrows in confusion.
“A bride needs some air!” I muttered before hailing a taxi.
"Where to?" the driver asked, eyeing my disheveled appearance.
“To the station, quickly," I replied.
I threw my phone out the window as I said, "The train’s leaving in thirty minutes."
Within an hour, I was on a train heading to a different city, having quickly changed into clothes from a nearby shop. My mind raced with one thought: Could all of this be real?
Back at the mansion, I was sure chaos had broken out. I wondered what story Sergey would concoct. Would he pretend to be the grieving groom, or would he reveal his true nature?
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. Ahead of me was an uncertain future, but at least it would be safe.
After changing my identity, I became Vera. Anastasia had faded into the past along with my shattered hopes. The cost of the new documents was steep, but worth it.
“What’s interesting in the world today?” I asked the elderly professor who was one of my regular customers at my modest café in Kaliningrad.
“Another businessman caught in a scandal. Ever heard of Sergey Valeryevich Romanov?”
My hand shook as I looked at the screen. The face staring back at me was painfully familiar, though aged slightly. Sergey, now the head of the "RomanovGroup," was suspected of major financial fraud.
“The head of the RomanovGroup holding is being investigated for financial crimes.” The small print added: "Discussions continue over the mysterious disappearance of his fiancée 15 years ago."
“Lena, do you realize what you’re saying?” I asked, voice trembling.
“I don’t think you understand. This is your chance to take back your life. He’s vulnerable now," Lena said urgently.
I paused, staring at the mirror. The woman who looked back at me was older, cautious. Strands of silver had appeared in her hair, and there was a steely glint in her eyes.
“Lena, what about Vera? What’s happened to her?”
“Vera Nikolaevna is in a nursing home. Sergey sidelined her from the company years ago. She started asking too many questions."
Determined to find out more, I visited Vera, pretending to be a social worker. The nursing home was set in a peaceful area outside the city. Vera looked frail, her eyes sharp and alert as she recognized me instantly.
“I knew you’d come, Nastya,” she said simply. “Sit down, and tell me about your years away.”
I shared my new life with her—the café, the quiet evenings, and starting over. She listened, nodding occasionally, and then spoke:
“He planned an accident on the honeymoon. Everything was ready.” Her voice quivered. "But after I started digging into his business, he had me sent here. Do you know how many accidents he's staged with his partners over the years?”
“Do you have any proof?” I asked.
Vera smiled knowingly. “I’ve kept all the evidence. It’s in a safe. I was waiting for you to return.”
Her words lit a fire inside me.
“Well then, dear bride,” she squeezed my hand. “Shall we surprise my son with a belated wedding gift?”
The following day, I entered RomanovGroup’s offices, armed with documents in hand. Sergey’s Maybach was parked outside, and I could see him entering the building.
“Margareta Olegovna, do you have a moment?” I asked the chief accountant, who grew pale when I mentioned discrepancies in their financial reports.
I locked the office door, knowing things were heating up. Sergey’s people were watching Lena, and it was only a matter of time before things escalated.
When I finally confronted Sergey, his mask of calm slipped.
“You...” he started.
“Hello, darling. Surprised?” I greeted him, feeling the tension rise.
He quickly pressed a button on his phone, but I cut him off. “No need for security. Your documents are already with the investigators.”
Sergey’s face drained of color.
“I’ve grown up, Nastya,” he said, finally admitting the truth. “I planned to eliminate you. Your inheritance was to be my business investment.”
“How many lives have you ruined?” I asked.
“This is business, darling,” he sneered. “No room for feelings.”
The investigators were at the door.
“You know what?” I leaned in. “Thank your mother. She not only saved me but taught me patience. Sometimes you must wait for the perfect moment to strike.”
Three months later, Sergey was sentenced to fifteen years in prison. His empire crumbled.
In my café, as I handed a cappuccino to a regular, I thought about everything I’d been through. Maybe the old life wasn’t real. Perhaps I was only now beginning to truly live.
Sergey’s downfall had come, but I had moved on. Freedom had a new meaning.
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