My sibling recommended that I set up a surveillance device in our home prior to departing on a one-month professional journey to a different town. I chose to heed his suggestion…

Okay, what’s done is done. What now? Mark said, I fly to New York today. Yes, the ticket is already ordered.

Flight at two in the afternoon. You have time to freshen up, have breakfast. Then we’ll go to the airport.

I nodded. The plan is simple. Return to New York, to John.

Pretend I know nothing. And at the same time spy on him, collect information for Mark. Simple, but dangerous.

And if John suspects something? If he understands that I know the truth? Won’t understand. You’re smart, cautious. You’ll be able to play the role.

And we will be nearby, will monitor, will protect you. I wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that everything will be fine.

But after everything that happened, trust was undermined. Not only to John, but also to Michael. And to Mark.

And to the whole world. Good, I said, standing up from the bed. I’m ready.

Or be ready in half an hour. I need to shower. Michael nodded, left the bedroom, leaving me alone.

I went to the bathroom, turned on the water. Hot, almost burning. Wanted to wash off all this madness of recent days.

All these games, manipulations, lie. Wanted to become clean, new. Ready for what awaits ahead.

After the shower, I felt better. Physically, at least. Morally, it was still heavy.

But I’ll cope. I’m strong. Stronger than I thought.

In the living room, Michael was waiting for me. Sat on the sofa, typing something on the phone. Seeing me, put aside the phone, smiled.

You look better. Will you have breakfast? Yes, won’t refuse. We went to the kitchen.

Michael took products from the fridge, started cooking scrambled eggs. I sat at the table, watching him. My brother, whom I knew all my life.

And who, as it turned out, I didn’t know at all. Michael, tell me the truth. The whole truth.

What is really happening? Why does Mark need me? Why not just arrest John, hand the case to the police? The brother sighed, flipped the scrambled eggs on the pan. I already said. It’s not only about John.

There is someone else. Someone higher, more important. Mark thinks John doesn’t work only for himself.

That behind him stands someone very influential. And he needs evidence. The name of this person.

And he thinks that I can learn this name. How? John never told me about his work. Didn’t tell.

But perhaps, in your apartment, there are documents, recordings, something that can lead to this person. Something that John stores at home, considering this place safe. And you are the only one who can search there, without arousing suspicions.

I nodded. This sounded logical. More logical than everything else.

And who is this person? Does Mark have suspicions? The brother paused, laying out the scrambled eggs on the plate. There are. But he doesn’t say.

Even to me. Too dangerous. Such an influential person? Yes.

Very influential. And very dangerous. That’s why we act so cautiously.

That’s why all these checks, all these games. Mark had to be sure that he can trust you. I nodded.

Began to understand. Not justify, no. But understand the logic of Mark, his actions, his methods.

And if I find the name of this person, what then? Then Mark will act. Arrest not only John, but also his patron. Return the money to investors.

And protect you. From consequences. From scandal.

From revenge. I nodded. This sounded convincing.

And John? What will be with him? Depends on him. If he cooperates, helps us take the patron, then can get off with light punishment.

Perhaps even conditional term. If not, will go to jail. For a long time. I started eating, pondering what I heard.

Everything fit. Mark’s logic, his actions, his methods. Tough, manipulative, but logical.

From his point of view. And you believe him? Believe that he will keep his word? Protect me? Help John avoid serious punishment? The brother looked me straight in the eyes. Yes.

Believe. Mark is tough, calculating. But he keeps his word.

Always. I nodded. If Michael believes Mark, perhaps I should too.

Despite all the games, all the manipulations. After all, I have no choice. No other path.

Good, I said. I’ll do everything necessary. Help you get the name of this person. But then you fulfill your part of the deal.

Protect me. And help John avoid prison. I promise, nodded Michael.

Everything will be exactly so. We finished breakfast in silence. Then got ready, went to the airport.

On the way, Michael instructed me what to say to John, how to behave, what to look for. I listened attentively, memorized. My life depended on this.

At the airport, Michael escorted me to check-in, huggedgoodbye. Be careful, he said. And remember, I’m always in touch.

Always ready to help. Thank you, I hugged him in response. Despite everything, he is still my brother.

The only close person left to me. I’ll cope. Check-in, screening, boarding.

Everything is like in a fog. I moved on autopilot, thinking about what awaits me in New York. About the meeting with John.

About the role I have to play. About the risk I’m exposed to. The flight passed quickly.

I didn’t even notice how we landed. Internally was ready that John will meet me at the airport. Surprise, flowers, hugs.

Husband meeting wife returned from business trip. Perfect picture for random witnesses.

But in the arrival hall, he wasn’t there.

Neither him, nor anyone else who could be sent to meet me. I was alone. Took a taxi, went home.

On the way, tried to gather my thoughts, prepare for the meeting with John. What will I say? How to explain my early return? How to behave, knowing the truth about him, about his plans, about his betrayal? Taxi stopped at my house. I paid, got out.

Looked at the windows of our apartment. Light is on. So, John is home.

Waiting for me. Knows that I return. Or this will be a surprise for him? Ascended by elevator to our floor.

Approached the door, took out the keys. Hesitated a second, gathering spirit. Then opened the door, entered.

John. I’m home, silence. Then sound of steps from the living room.

And here he is, my husband. Person I loved seven years. Person whom, as I thought, I knew better than anyone in the world.

And who turned out to be completely stranger, unfamiliar. Emily? Surprise on his face was sincere. What are you doing here? Why returned so early? I smiled, trying to make the smile look natural.

Approached, hugged him, kissed on the cheek. As usual, as always. As if nothing happened, nothing changed.

The project closed. Suddenly, without warning. Some problems with financing.

All of us were recalled. Wanted to make you a surprise, so didn’t call in advance. John hugged me in response, but I felt tension in his body, in his arms.

He didn’t expect me. Was not ready for my return. This violated his plans.

Wow. A real surprise. I’m so glad you returned, liar.

Now, when I knew the truth, I saw falseness in his smile, in his words, in his hugs. How could I be so blind before? How could I not notice the obvious? I’m glad too, I said, stepping away. Terribly missed you, the home.

San Francisco is beautiful, but home is better. Of course, home is better, John smiled, but his eyes remained wary. Are you hungry? Want something? No, snacked on the plane.

But won’t refuse tea. Terribly tired. Flight, taxi, all this fuss.

Of course, now I’ll make. We went to the kitchen. John put the kettle, took out cups.

I sat at the table, watching him. My husband. Such familiar and such stranger at the same time.

How are you? What’s new at work? I asked, trying to sound relaxed. Everything as usual. Work, home, work.

Nothing interesting. Liar. Liar.

Liar. Every his word was lie. Not as usual, but preparation for a large theft.

Not work-home-work, but meeting with mistress, with accomplices, planning escape. And I have so many impressions, I said, smiling. San Francisco is so beautiful, especially now, in spring.

Though the weather is capricious, of course. Then rain, then sun. I talked about trifles, about weather, about the city, about work.

John nodded, smiled, asked questions. We drank tea, talked, like an ordinary married couple. As if nothing happened, nothing changed.

But everything changed. Everything was different. I saw him through, saw falseness in his smile, in his words, in his gestures.

And he, perhaps, felt my tension, my unnaturalness, my game. «You look tired,» he said finally. «Maybe lie down to rest? And I’ll unpack your things, prepare dinner».

Yes, good idea. I’m really tired. I stood up from the table, approached him, kissed on the cheek.

As usual, as always. As if nothing happened, nothing changed. «Rest.

I’ll wake you for dinner». I went to the bedroom, lay on the bed. Our bed, where we slept together for seven years.

Where, perhaps, he made love with Helen, when I was not home. Where he built plans of betrayal, deception, escape. Disgusting.

But I must endure. Must play the role. For myself.

For the truth. For justice.

I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep.

In fact, sleep didn’t come. Head was full of thoughts, plans, fears. What to do next? How to find evidence of John’s connection with the mysterious patron? How not to give myself away, my knowledge, my game? Didn’t know the answers.

But was ready to look for them. Was ready to go to the end. For myself.

For the truth. For justice.

And, perhaps, for John too. The person I once loved. Whom, perhaps, I still love, despite everything.

The first evening at home passed in a strange, tense atmosphere. We had dinner, talked about trifles, watched TV. Like an ordinary married couple.

As if nothing happened, nothing changed. But everything changed. Everything was different.

Every word, every gesture, every look, had a double bottom, hidden meaning. We played in front of each other, pretended, lied. He didn’t know that I know the truth.

I knew that he lies. And we both smiled, hugged, spoke about love. At night it was even worse.

He wanted closeness, intimacy. Naturally, after all I returned from a business trip, we missed each other. I couldn’t refuse without explanations, without reasons.

This would cause suspicions. Therefore I allowed. Closed my eyes, imagined that this is someone else.

Not John. Not the traitor. Not the liar.

After he fell asleep, hugging me. I lay without sleep, looking at the ceiling. Thought about what to do further.

How to find evidence of John’s connection with the mysterious patron. How not to give myself away, my knowledge, my game. In the morning, when John left for work, I started searches.

Cautiously, methodically, not leaving traces. Checked his desk, computer, phone. Nothing suspicious.

Everything clean, tidy, without compromising materials. Of course, he wouldn’t keep important documents in plain sight. He is smart, cautious.

There must be something hidden, secret place. Safe? Cache? External information carrier, hidden somewhere. I continued to search.

Day after day, hour after hour, when John was at work. Methodically, thoroughly, not leaving traces. Checked all cabinets, all drawers, all nooks.

Tapped walls, floors, looking for voids. Looked into all possible places where something important can be hidden. Nothing.

Absolutely nothing. Every evening, Michael called me under the guise of an ordinary conversation of brother with sister. Asked how things are, what’s new.

I answered with general phrases, nothing specific. We used code words, phrases that meant «found nothing», «continue searches», «everything is okay». Simple, but effective system.

John didn’t arouse suspicions, didn’t show that something is wrong. Was the same as always. Caring, attentive, loving.

Lied so skillfully, so naturally, that sometimes I myself began to doubt. Maybe I’m wrong? Maybe Mark deceived me? Maybe John really works for the government, investigates Mark’s activities? But then I remembered the recording. His voice, his words, his plans.

If lucky, she’ll get off with interrogations.

If not, perhaps even go to jail as an accomplice. In any case, I don’t care.

This was not pretense, not a game for listening. This was the real John. Cold, calculating, ready to sacrifice me for his plans.

No, I’m not wrong. And Mark didn’t deceive me. At least not in this.

John is really a traitor, criminal. And I must find evidence of his connection with the mysterious patron. Must help Mark.

For myself. For the truth. For justice.

Days passed. 5, 6, 7. I continued searches, but without result. John continued his game, his pretense.

Michael continued to call, ask, what’s new. I continued to answer nothing, continue searches, everything is okay. Time was running out.

The 14th was approaching. The day when John planned to act. The day when everything should be decided.

And then, on the eighth day, I found it. Completely by accident, not where I was looking. Not in a cache, not in a safe, not on an external carrier.

And in the most obvious, most open place. There, where no one would think to look. In the photo album.

In an ordinary family photo album, which stood on the bookshelf in the living room. Among photos of our wedding, our vacations, our happy moments, between the pages was hidden a small sheet of paper. Folded in four, almost unnoticeable.

I unfolded it, read. And froze from shock. It was a note.

Just a few words, written by hand. Everything is ready. Waiting for confirmation.

S. V. S. V. Initials. Name and patronymic. Surname and name.

Code designation. I didn’t know. But this was the first clue.

The first trace leading to John’s mysterious patron. I photographed the note on the phone, carefully put it back between the pages of the album. Exactly as it was.

No traces, no changes. In the evening Michael called. Usual conversation, usual questions.

But this time I answered differently. Used the code phrase meaning «found something». Michael understood, said he will come tomorrow.

Just to visit sister, nothing special, John didn’t suspect anything. Was the same as always. Caring, attentive, loving.

Dinner, conversation, TV. Ordinary evening of an ordinary married couple. As if nothing happened, nothing changed.

But everything changed. I found the first clue. The first trace leading to John’s mysterious patron.

And tomorrow I’ll transmit this information to Michael. To Mark. And we will be one step closer to the truth.

To justice. And while I continued to play my role. Smiled, talked, pretended that everything is normal.

That I know nothing, suspect nothing. That I’m the same trusting, loving wife, whom John could manipulate for years. But inside I was different.

Strong, decisive, ready to go to the end. For myself. For the truth.

For justice. And, perhaps, for John too. The person I once loved.

The person whom, perhaps, I still love, despite everything. Michael arrived the next day, as promised. Just to visit sister, nothing special.

John was at work, we could talk calmly. I showed Michael the photo of the note, told where I found it. He carefully studied the image, thoughtfully shook his head.

S. V. He muttered. Interesting. Mark will be pleased.

This is the first concrete clue. Do you know who it could be? Do these initials mean something to you? Michael shrugged. There are several versions.

But Mark doesn’t share details. Even with me. I nodded.

Mark was cautious, didn’t trust completely even his closest employees. Perhaps this helped him survive in his dangerous business. What next? I asked. What to do to me? Continue searches.

This is a good clue, but we need more. Concrete evidence of John’s connection with this. S. V. Documents, recordings of conversations, anything.

I’m looking. Every day, every minute, when John is not home. But I find nothing.

He is cautious, doesn’t keep anything compromising at home. There must be something. Otherwise why this note in the photo album? Why risk, keep such evidence at home? Michael was right.

There must be something else. Something I missed, didn’t notice. Need to search further, more thoroughly.

And faster. Time was left less and less. I’ll continue searches, I promised. But time is little.

The 14th is the day after tomorrow. I know. Therefore, we activate observation.

We’ll install additional cameras, listening devices. We’ll monitor every step of John’s. He may notice.

He is cautious, attentive. Won’t notice. We are professionals.

I nodded. Hoped that Michael is right. That Mark and his people are really professionals.

That they will be able to protect me, if something goes wrong. And what about the photo album? I asked. Perhaps worth taking it? Study more thoroughly? There may be more evidence. Michael shook his head.

No, leave everything as is. If John notices the disappearance of the album, he may suspect something. We can’t risk.

I agreed. Michael was right. Can’t risk, can’t arouse suspicions.

Need to continue the game, continue to pretend. To the very end. Michael left, promising to transmit the information to Mark.

I remained alone, continuing searches. Thoroughly, methodically, not leaving traces. Searched everywhere where something hidden, secret could be.

But found nothing. John returned from work as usual. Asked how the day passed, what’s new.

I told about Michael’s visit, about our conversation. Nothing special, ordinary family matters. John nodded, smiled, asked questions.

Like an ordinary married couple. As if nothing happened, nothing changed. But everything changed.

Everything was different. Every word, every gesture, every look had a double bottom, hidden meaning. We played in front of each other, pretended, lied.

And I didn’t know who will win in this game. Who will be the best actor, the best liar. In the evening, when John fell asleep, I again took out the photo album.

Cautiously, trying not to noise, took it off the shelf, brought to the bathroom. Locked the door, turned on the light. Began to flip page by page, photo by photo…