Payment

But not later—not after everything…

“Did you get through?” she asked, returning to the table.

“Not yet. Maybe she left her phone somewhere. Maybe she’s busy with work,” he said with a shrug, sipping from his glass.

“Busy, yeah… just not with work,” Lana said, looking him in the eyes.

Robert locked his piercing gaze onto hers.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing. You’ll find out soon enough,” she replied quietly, turning to head back to her seat.

But he grabbed her hand and demanded,

“No, finish what you started.”

Lana hesitated. His firm tone and hint of jealousy shook her confidence.

“She’s my friend. I can’t,” she stammered.

“That doesn’t matter anymore. I won’t let it go until I know.”

“I don’t want to be a traitor.” What am I doing? What am I doing?!

“She won’t hear the truth from me. Say it,” Robert insisted.

Lana stood there, staring at him, unable to speak. He tightened his grip on her hand.

“She has someone. Someone powerful. He’s been supporting her all along. They meet in secret. Before him, there was someone else. And then another. And another. And sometimes… just guys for fun,” she said, then covered her face with both hands and began to tremble.

He stared at her for a moment—then simply stood up and walked away.

Chapter 4

“Can I see your phone?” Robert asked. It was evening—they were lying in bed together, holding each other, in the apartment he had rented after being intimate.

“What for?” Victoria asked, surprised.

“You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?” he said calmly, staring directly into her eyes.

She reached for her purse, which was on the bedside table, pulled out her phone, and handed it to him. He began to go through it. Opened her messages, scrolled through them—nothing special. Then photos—no men. Then contacts. Victoria rested one hand on his stomach, closed her eyes, and relaxed. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.

He sighed in relief and thought of Lana, trying to understand her motives. Was it jealousy? Still, doubt gnawed at him. So, just to be sure, he installed tracking software on Victoria’s phone—something he had prepared in advance. He hid it well and deleted all traces. Now, without her knowing, he could track her location at any time—and confirm whether her best friend’s warning had been true. If Lana had lied, he would quit this job, no matter the prospects. He’d leave the company and get far away from this strange girl. And maybe… maybe he’d propose to Victoria. Why not? She had everything his heart and soul desired. Feeling a growing tenderness, Robert gently rolled her onto her back and began kissing her, chasing away her sleep.

Toward the weekend, Victoria told him she’d be working overtime, so they wouldn’t be able to meet. He looked at her for a long time, regret rising within him. Then he began remembering other times like this. Situations he hadn’t paid much attention to before. Could it really be true?

“Does the factory even work weekends, sweetheart?” Robert asked, trying to sound casual, though there was frustration in his voice.

Victoria was fixing her hair at the mirror. At his words, she turned and approached him, gently cupping his face in her hands.

“Honey, when there are orders, they run three shifts, no weekends.”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off her. Work, then—just work.

He waited for the weekend with both dread and anticipation. He couldn’t imagine how he’d survive the disappointment. Robert was on the edge of serious feelings—or maybe his heart had already been set ablaze. He still hadn’t confirmed anything, but he was already wracked with jealousy. Part of him wanted to delete that app from her phone and just live in blissful ignorance. But he sat there, doing nothing.

Saturday came. Around midnight, Robert called her. The phone was off.

With shaking hands, he opened the hidden folder with the tracker, waited out a torturous minute—and pressed “Locate.”

The app loaded, then displayed her current location. Robert slammed his phone to the floor with all his strength and let out a roar.

At ten in the evening, on a Saturday, Victoria sat in the restaurant of a hotel, where she was to spend the night with her sugar daddy. They were having dinner. She looked stunning in a red evening dress with a plunging neckline and a slit that reached mid-thigh.

Her fiery hair cascaded over one shoulder in soft waves. Her lips gleamed with scarlet lipstick. Victoria planned to bring up her long-held wish of opening a beauty salon and had carefully prepared for the meeting. Though he had promised it long ago, she wanted to speed things up. She had taken an aggressive stance. Her benefactor was a high-ranking official—close to sixty years old—named Anton Semyonovich. He held a position in local government and carried significant influence, even within criminal circles. Despite their intimacy, Victoria feared him. One look from those icy blue eyes could instill terror. And in private, he didn’t hesitate to use brute force—it thrilled him and infuriated her. She would’ve ended things long ago, even the occasional meetings he invited her to, but the man wouldn’t let go.

At this particular dinner, everything about Anton Semyonovich’s behavior said one thing—don’t even think about leaving me. The way he carried himself made it clear who was in control. Yet at the same time, he never openly showed possessiveness. He allowed his young mistress her freedom and didn’t demand much—just respect. Maybe because Victoria was skilled at playing the role of the sweet, innocent girl in love. In truth, what guided her was caution and a tough life experience. She acted carefully, always avoiding missteps. She had mastered the art of seduction and manipulation. She had a dozen masks in her arsenal, allowing her to wriggle out of almost any situation. Even a clever, seasoned man like Anton Semyonovich trusted her completely. They had agreed that after her internship ended, she’d move out of the dorm and into her own apartment, managing a small business he’d set up for her. She wanted that more than anything.

But since starting a relationship with Robert, something inside her had shifted. Something had clicked. She found herself considering a different life plan. And to her surprise, she started thinking—maybe she didn’t need all that… the money, the gifts, the beauty salon. Maybe being with her love, even in a modest home, would be enough. Or maybe not. Maybe she still needed it all. Time would tell.

If Anton Semyonovich had known her secret thoughts and desires about another man—a man who could make her genuinely happy—maybe he would have let her go peacefully. Maybe he’d allow her to marry and build a family. After all, she was still so young. Yes, Robert had settled into her thoughts.

Why not?

Lately, she’d grown so attached to him. She could already picture herself spending the rest of her life with him.

“What are you thinking about, my beauty?” her benefactor asked, brushing her cheek with his hand. “Your eyes are glowing.”

“Just dreaming,” Victoria replied, flashing a gentle smile.

“About me?” he teased, chuckling and coughing lightly.

“Of course, darling. Who else?”

He signaled to his man, who was seated nearby. The man approached and placed a small bag on the table. Anton Semyonovich took out a square velvet box and opened it.

Victoria’s eyes widened at the dazzling sight—rubies framed with diamonds, glowing red. Her mouth parted, and she stared at her generous lover in awe. He pushed the box toward her with a satisfied smile and said, “For you.”

“Can I kiss you?” she whispered, stunned.

“In the room,” he replied with a smirk, then nodded toward the necklace. “Think you can put it on yourself?”

“Of course.”

Carefully lifting the jewel by its edges, she placed it on her chest and, brushing her hair aside, fastened the clasp behind her neck. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she almost squealed in joy.

“You are the jewel this necklace was made for,” the man whispered with open adoration.

“Thank you! God, I can’t believe it! I finally have real diamonds and rubies!” Victoria exclaimed, covering her face with her hands.

But the moment she opened her eyes, she wished she hadn’t. Behind one lover, she saw the face of another—filled with disgust. Victoria turned pale.

Not now. Please, not now!

“This is for you too,” Robert said, taking off a thin gold chain.

He threw the bracelet she’d given him onto the table. It had been a gift from Anton Semyonovich—his very first to her, years ago. Robert had picked it out with care and put it on her wrist with affection. Now, his face screamed betrayal, like someone had kicked him under the chin with a filthy boot.

At that moment, her benefactor’s security men grabbed Robert and escorted him out.

Anton stood up calmly and told her to go to the room.

Shaking all over, Victoria left the restaurant, passed through the lobby and down the hall to the elevator. They always booked the same room—she knew exactly where to go. For ten agonizing minutes, she waited. Her mind raced: run, call the police, call emergency services—do something! But all she could do was tremble in fear, bracing for the inevitable punishment.

Anton Semyonovich entered, closed the door, and approached. Victoria sat obediently on the bed, holding her breath. Her entire being was a coiled spring. Her heart pounded with betrayal. She barely managed not to rock in rhythm with it.

Without a word, the man turned and slapped her across the face. She fell to the floor. Her cheek burned, and within seconds, she heard his hissing voice above her:

“I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.”

He grabbed her by the hair and punched her in the face—this time with his fist. The pain was immediate. She felt herself choking. Blood rushed into her mouth, blocking her breathing. But the sight of blood didn’t stop him. He hit her again—harder—like she were a man. Victoria lost consciousness. The sounds faded. Darkness swallowed her. When she came to, more pain followed.

Kicks—sharp, ruthless—landed against her sides from his polished shoes. She curled into a ball, trying to shield herself. Blood-matted hair stuck to her face. No more screams—only the involuntary whimpers of a wounded animal. The necklace flew under the bed. He didn’t even notice.

Eventually, the man who’d once courted her like a gentleman walked out—leaving her in a puddle of blood, still wearing her red dress.

She groaned and rolled onto her back. Everything hurt. Her body felt torn apart. The sparkle of diamonds and rubies shimmered nearby under the bed. Summoning all her strength, Victoria reached under the bed and found the necklace. Her body trembled violently. She grabbed it with her fingers and clutched it in her fist. She stuffed it inside her bra, beneath her bruised chest. Every movement sent waves of searing pain. But in her foggy mind, she thought: If I die now, at least let it be with my diamonds. Then she leaned her head back and slipped back into darkness.

Pain brought her back again. New blows jolted her. One eye barely opened—the other was swollen shut. She saw darkness. After a few seconds, her brain caught up. She was in some tight, hard space. They were moving. The trunk. She was wrapped in some kind of cloth—soft, fuzzy. A towel, maybe. But it didn’t cushion the jolts on the bumpy road. Finally, the car stopped. She clenched her jaw and turned onto her side. They lifted her—one by the wrists, the other by the ankles. They began swinging her. Then—weightlessness. Then—a splash. The impact with water.

Softness. Coolness. Then—cold. No oxygen. The fabric clung to her face, blocking every breath. Panic hit like a hammer. Victoria thrashed, ignoring the agony in her body, fighting to break free. She managed to tear through the cloth and surged upward, her fiery hair streaming behind her. She kicked again and again, leaving a trail of blood in the water. The current caught her, carried her. She surfaced, gasping, chest heaving.

She was alive. Alive…

Floating on her back, she let the current carry her gently. The cool water caressed her open wounds like a comforting friend, nudging her toward a rocky, wild shore. After a while, she felt the bottom beneath her feet. She crawled to the edge and closed her eyes again.

It was August. If this had happened in autumn or spring, she might never have seen the sun again. Her strength gave out, and night wrapped her in its velvet veil.

Morning came. Victoria finally opened one eye—the other was swollen shut—and felt the sting of raw skin. She tried to sit up and groaned, collapsing again. After resting a bit and adjusting to the pain, she made another attempt. Propped up on her elbows, she looked down at her body. It was almost entirely purple and bruised. Torn wounds still bled. Feeling around her bra, she found the necklace and smiled faintly. Looking around, she spotted a rotten tree half-submerged in the water. Pushing through the chest pain, she reached for a sharp stone and began digging under it. Once the hole was deep enough, she paused to catch her breath. Then, with immense effort, she pulled the necklace from her bra. She checked the setting—every gemstone still intact. She placed the treasure into the hole and buried it, using the same stone. Trembling again, she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness. The sun beat down hard. She scooped water with her hand and splashed her face. Then lay back, listening to the gentle lapping of the lake’s waves. A lullaby. And once again, silence and peace wrapped around her completely.

Chapter 5

Lana woke up in the middle of the night with a sense of dread. Nausea swept over her, and a heavy feeling pulled her out of bed, refusing to let her sleep. She got up and leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to her heaving chest. It was the same feeling she’d had right before her father’s death. She hadn’t been able to sit still in the hospital hallway—tears had suddenly started choking her. Lana had felt that he was slipping away. She had run to the ICU doors, banging on them, demanding someone check on her father.

“He’s not well!” she’d cried to the hospital staff.

But they had calmed her, assuring her he was fine—that he was asleep. He had been dying. And within the hour, he was gone. Now the same thing was happening again. Why?! Who was dying this time? Her mother was peacefully asleep in her room. Her grandparents had long since passed. They had no other close relatives she could feel this deeply for. Mentally, she went through a list of names, trying to think of anyone. Sitting down on the floor, Lana closed her eyes and began to pray:

“God, please help the one who’s suffering right now! God, I beg you—save them! Lord, hear my prayers and protect them from death! Whoever needs you, reach out your hand—save them!”

Tears streamed down her face, and she had no idea why. She just felt horrible.

Robert had also been beaten—but not to death. The men who’d done it were professionals. They had used batons, bruising him badly but breaking nothing. Then they warned him: if he ever tried to find Victoria, or even mentioned her, he wouldn’t live to regret it. He promised that as of that moment, she was dead to him. And they let him go.

On Monday, he didn’t show up for work. He sent a message to Olga Nikolaevna’s phone, apologizing and explaining that he was very ill and wouldn’t be able to come to the office that week. She called him immediately—and so did her daughter. He hadn’t wanted to talk but had no choice. He said he’d been in an accident. Nothing serious—just needed rest.

Naturally, within the hour, Lana was at his door. So that’s why I felt so awful, she thought. The man I love was in an accident. When he opened the door to the apartment he was renting, Lana couldn’t hold back. She threw her arms around him and said:

“Thank God you’re alive!”

“Easy, easy…” he murmured, gently pulling away.

“How did it happen?” she asked with concern, kicking off her shoes—though he hadn’t invited her in. She went straight to the kitchen to drop off the bags of food she’d brought.

He stood there, head slightly tilted, watching her with a heavy heart. Why couldn’t she just leave him alone?

But seeing that she wasn’t going anywhere, he closed the door and dragged himself back to the couch. He lay down, covering his eyes with the back of his hand, pretending to sleep.

“Did you get hit crossing the street?” she pressed, knowing he didn’t own a car.

She knelt down beside him and gently touched his bruised cheek.

“Oh my God, you need to go to the hospital. You’re just lying here. Are you sure you don’t have any broken bones?”

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered without turning. “I just need rest.”

“Of course,” she said softly, gazing at him with loving eyes.

He cursed everything—for sending that message. He should’ve said he left town! When would she go already?!

“I brought cutlets and soup. You should eat, okay? There’s also salad, fruit, cheese, and juice.”

“You didn’t have to,” he sighed. “Thanks. Lana, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” she said, standing up. She hesitated for a moment, then added, “If you need anything, anything at all, call me. Day or night, okay?”

“I will. Please shut the door behind you,” he replied, making it clear she shouldn’t linger.

Lana quietly left. Half a minute later, Robert got up and went into the kitchen. He threw all the food she brought into the trash. Suddenly, everything infuriated him. He started smashing things—teapots, cups, plates, glasses—everything went flying against the wall, to the floor, into furniture. He roared like an animal. His eyes filled with rage, and the world around him blurred. The pain was unbearable. He sank to the floor and grabbed his head with both hands.

Her face—her smile—so beautiful, with diamonds around her neck—it wouldn’t leave his mind. And then he howled like a wild beast, cornered and broken. Someone was stroking her cheek. So gently, with a smile and love in their eyes. A woman—like a mother—though it wasn’t her mother’s face. Still, Victoria felt in her soul that this woman was family.

“Mama…” she whispered barely audibly.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” the woman replied softly, running her hand through Victoria’s hair again. “Everything will be all right.”

“Protect me, Mama,” she pleaded, suddenly feeling like a little girl.

“Of course, my darling. No one will ever hurt you again,” the woman promised.

Victoria whispered, “Thank you,” and tears slid slowly from her closed eyes.

When she opened them a little while later, the warmth and safety hadn’t faded. It wasn’t a dream. One eye barely opened, she took in her surroundings. Pink curtains. A table with a white cloth. Flowers. She looked down and slowly lifted a hand to touch her body. She was lying in bed, wrapped in bandages.

Even her head was wrapped. Where was she? A woman approached her, smiling warmly.

“Well, hello there, sweetheart!” she said in the same kind voice Victoria had just heard in her dream. She looked a little different now—but still just as kind.

“Hello,” Victoria said softly.

“How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?”

“No. I feel really good. Thank you,” Victoria replied, realizing she was no longer in pain. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my home, in the village. I’m a healer. I’m taking care of you, Victoria,” the woman answered, then introduced herself. “You can call me Aunt Masha.”

She smiled again and stroked Victoria’s hair.

“Thank you, Aunt Masha. How did you find me?”

“Some folks from our village found you. You were unconscious by the lake—on the Sorrowful Shore.”

“Yes, I remember,” Victoria said, closing her eyes.

The horror she’d been through rushed back into her mind, making her stomach twist. Repeating the name Sorrowful Shore, she realized she’d heard of it before. They often found drowning victims there.

Dear God… I almost joined them.

“Everything will be fine,” Aunt Masha said again, gently stroking her. “We’ll nurse you back to health. You’ve got broken ribs and a concussion—but I’ll heal you. Don’t worry. I’ve treated worse.”

“You’ll be good as new.”

“Thank you, Aunt Masha,” Victoria whispered, her voice trembling.

Chapter 6

Three days later, Lana came to the factory and headed straight for the director’s office.

“I already told you—Viktoriya Sokolova quit and left for Moscow,” said Pyotr Vladimirovich without looking her in the eye, clearly eager to get away.

“That’s impossible!” Lana protested. “She would’ve told me. How could she quit—she’s doing her internship here! She needs to get her diploma!”

“Lana, when you find her, ask her yourself. What do you want from me?” he snapped, then stormed off.

Lana stood there with her mouth open in shock. Then she went to the dormitory. Her old room was already occupied by other girls. Viktoriya’s things were gone. They said some guy had come and taken everything. Oh my God, she thought. What if she found out the truth? What if Robert’s lying about the accident and something serious happened?! What if that’s why she left without saying goodbye?! Lana sat down on the dorm steps and covered her face with her hands. What have I done?!

When she came to Robert with questions, he answered calmly that she was mistaken.

Yes, they’d had a fight—actually, they had decided to break up—but it had nothing to do with Lana. Viktoriya had admitted everything, and they went their separate ways. That was all. He added that he didn’t want to hear about her anymore. They were standing on the landing of his building; he hadn’t invited her in, just stepped out.

“She quit the factory and left, Robert,” Lana said, standing on the first step of the second floor where his apartment was.

His jaw clenched—but he said nothing. Then, quietly, he said goodbye and went back inside. He hadn’t asked where she went. Why should he? He’d been told not to look for her, which meant she wasn’t alone. She was with him. Let them both go to hell! That bitch!!!

He slammed his fist into the wall.

A month passed.

The bruises had begun to fade, slowly bringing Viktoriya’s beauty back. But she still spent most of her time lying down. She wore tight bandages, and Aunt Masha continued treating her with ointments and magical potions.

“Aunt Masha, I need a phone,” Viktoriya asked once.

She hadn’t seen any communication devices in the house—no phone, not even a TV. And no one ever visited. Only the sounds of nature and silence. The couple times she stepped outside, the woman quickly brought her back in, as if hiding her from people.

“What for, sweetheart?” Aunt Masha asked gently. “Who do you want to call? Your parents?”

“No…” Viktoriya answered sadly. Her birth mother had never once tried to contact her. Sometimes she’d send her money—but never a word of thanks. Just took it and left. She wanted to call her best friend. There was no one else.

“It’s better if no one knows you’re alive. At least until you recover,” the woman said softly, taking her hand.

Viktoriya looked into her eyes and understood. She hadn’t thought of the danger. Of course! That bastard and his dogs thought they had killed her. If they found out she’d survived…

“What am I going to do?” Viktoriya whispered, covering her mouth in horror.

The woman answered, “I know a good man who can help you. Once you’re back on your feet, we’ll ask him to come and talk.”

“Thank you,” Viktoriya said, squeezing her hand tightly.

Robert threw himself into work. Without holding back, he gave everything he had to the job—like it was his own company. In just a few weeks, he’d secured several new permanent clients, and the workers couldn’t keep up with orders. He earned twenty percent of the profits and set a goal for himself: rise out of the mess he’d been in after his divorce. Turned out, he’d married a very calculating woman. They had a prenuptial agreement: if either of them cheated, all assets—movable and immovable—would go to the other. And he had cheated. She found out and caught him red-handed. Whether it was a setup or not didn’t matter anymore. He packed his things and left. She had shattered a crystal glass against the door behind him. And now he was alone again.