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…

Looking for something that could be a clue, indication, proof. And found. Not a note, no.

Something more interesting, more significant. On one of the photos taken at the corporate party of Mark’s company, about a year ago. Group shot, many people.

John among them, smiling, satisfied. And next to him a person whom I didn’t recognize right away. Tall, representative, in an expensive suit.

I peered into the face of this person. And suddenly understood why it seems familiar. I saw him on TV.

Many times. This was a famous politician, occupying a high post in the government. A person about whom they spoke as a possible candidate for presidents at the next elections.

Steven Victor Patterson. S. V. Coincidence? Or is this the mysterious patron of John’s? The person standing behind the planned crime? I photographed the shot on the phone, carefully put the album back on the shelf. Exactly as it was.

No traces, no changes. Heart beat like crazy. I just found a possible connection between John and a very influential, very dangerous person.

Connection that could explain much. And which could be exactly what Mark was looking for. But what to do with this information? Call Michael in the middle of the night? Risky.

John may wake up, hear the conversation. Wait until morning? Also risky. Every hour counts, time is less and less.

I decided to send the photo in the messenger. Short message, only photo, without explanations. Michael is smart, he will understand.

And will transmit the information to Mark. Sent, deleted the message from my phone. No traces, no evidence.

Then returned to the bedroom, lay next to John. He slept, not suspecting that his secret is revealed. That his connection with S.V., with Steven Victor Patterson, is no longer a secret.

I closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep. But sleep didn’t come. Too many thoughts, too many questions.

What will be further? How will Mark react to this information? What will happen to John? With me? With us all? Didn’t know. Could only wait.

And hope that everything will end well. For me. For John.

For all of us. In the morning John left for work as usual. Kissed goodbye, said he loves, that he will return in the evening. Like an ordinary loving husband.

As if nothing happened, nothing changed. As soon as the door closed behind him, I called Michael. He answered after the first beep, as if waiting for my call.

«You saw the photo?» «Yes». «He wants to talk to you. Personally.

Today». «Today? But how? I can’t just leave, disappear». John will suspect something.

«Say you’re going to a friend. Or to me. Come up with something.

This is important, Emily. Very important». I agreed.

What else could I do? Mark wants to talk, means I must come. Too much depends on this. My life, my freedom, my safety.

Good. Where and when? At three. In the cafe «Nostalgia» on Main Street.

Know such? Yes, know. Excellent. Mark will be waiting for you there.

Alone. Without security, without escort. Just a conversation.

I nodded, although Michael couldn’t see it on the phone. Good. I’ll be there.

All day I spent in tension, preparing for the meeting with Mark. What will he say? What will ask to do? How will react to my find? At 2.30 I left the house, went to Main Street. Cafe «Nostalgia» was a small, cozy establishment, in old American style.

Tables with white tablecloths, vintage photos on the walls, quiet classical music. Mark was already waiting for me. Sat at a table in the corner, drank coffee, viewed something on the phone.

Seeing me, put aside the phone, stood up, smiled. «Anastasia Sergeevna, glad to see you. Sit down, please».

I sat opposite him, tense, wary. Whatever Michael said, I couldn’t fully trust this person. Not after all his games, all his manipulations.

«You wanted to see me,» — I said, not wasting time on greeting. «Yes. Wanted to thank personally.

You did excellent work. The photo you sent. This is exactly what we were looking for».

Confirmation of John’s connection with Steven Victor Patterson. So, I was right? S. V. This is Steven Victor? Yes. We suspected this for a long time, but had no evidence.

Now, thanks to you, they are. I nodded, feeling a strange mixture of pride and anxiety. Pride that I was able to find what Mark was looking for.

Anxiety for what this means for John. For me. For all of us.

And what now? What will be further? Mark sipped coffee, looked at me attentively. Now we act. Arrest John, present him evidence of his connection with Patterson.

Force to cooperate, give testimony against his patron. And then? Then the real game begins. Big game.

With very high stakes. I listened, not interrupting. Mark spoke confidently, decisively.

A person who knows what he is doing, has a plan, strategy. And what will be with me? With John, with you everything will be fine. You fulfilled your part of the deal, now it’s my turn.

You will be under my protection. New identity, new life, new beginning. If you want, of course.

If not, you can just return to your usual life. Without John, without his lie, without his betrayal. And John? What will be with him? Mark paused, as if deciding how much can be told.

This depends on him. If he cooperates, gives testimony against Patterson, he can get off with light punishment. Perhaps even conditional term.

If not, he’ll go to jail. For a long time. I nodded.

Everything as Michael promised. Everything as we agreed. Mark keeps his word.

At least for now. When do you plan to arrest him? Today in the evening. When he returns from work? In your apartment.

I flinched. In our apartment? But. Don’t worry, you won’t be there.

You will stay here, with my people. They will take care of your safety. And when everything ends, I will personally inform you of the results, I didn’t know what to say.

Everything happens so fast, so unexpectedly. Yesterday I was a spy, double agent in my own husband’s house. And today everything ends.

John will be arrested, I will be protected, and a new life will begin. Without John, without his lie, without his betrayal. Do you have questions? Asked Mark, seeing my confusion.

Yes. Many. But the main one.

Why are you so sure that John will cooperate? That he will give testimony against Patterson? He may refuse, may deny everything. Mark smiled. Cold, calculating.

We have ways of persuasion. Very effective ways. I didn’t ask what he means.

Didn’t want to know the details. Some things are better to leave in ignorance. And one more question.

Why Patterson? Why does he need all this? He is a successful politician, possible candidate for presidents. Why risk career, reputation for some money? Mark shook his head. It’s not about money, Anastasia Sergeevna.

More precisely, not only about money. It’s about power. About influence.

About control. Patterson wants to become president. And for this, resources are needed.

Big resources. And he extracts them by all available ways. Legal and not very.

I nodded. Began to understand the scale of what is happening. This is not just corporate fraud, not just money theft.

This is big politics, big ambitions, big plans. And John, my husband, turned out to be in the center of all this. Pawn in the game of the mighty of this world.

What do I need to do now? I asked, trying to gather my thoughts. Nothing. Just wait here.

My people will take care of you. When everything ends, I’ll contact you. I nodded.

I had no choice. I went too far to turn back. Now I can only wait.

And hope that everything will end well. For me. For John.

For all of us. Mark stood up, put money for coffee on the table. I have to go.

Need to prepare for the operation. Don’t worry, Anastasia Sergeevna. Everything will be fine.

You made the right choice, believing me. And I won’t let you down. He left, leaving me alone at the table.

I looked after him, thinking about what will happen in the evening. How John will react when arrested? Will he resist? Will he deny everything? Or break, start giving testimony against Patterson? Didn’t know. Could only wait.

And hope that Mark will keep his word. That he will protect me, as promised. That he will help John avoid prison, if he cooperates? To the table approached a young man. Tall, athletic build, in a dark suit.

Anastasia Sergeevna? My name is Dmitry. I’m from Mark Ashford. He asked to take care of you.

I nodded. Another of Mark’s people. Another guard, bodyguard, overseer.

Call it what you want. What do I need to do? Nothing special. Just wait.

We’ll go to a safe place, where you can rest, while everything doesn’t end. I nodded again. Stood up, took the bag, followed Dmitry to the exit.

On the street, a car was waiting for us. Black SUV, like the one they drove me to San Francisco. Or the same one.

Can’t tell, they all look alike. I sat in the back seat, Dmitry next to me. Behind the wheel was another man I hadn’t seen before.

The car started, merged into the stream of New York traffic. Where are we going? I asked, looking out the window. To a safe place, repeated Dmitry.

Don’t worry, Anastasia Sergeевна. Everything is under control. I leaned back in the seat, closed my eyes.

Fatigue rolled in waves. The last days were too tense, too emotional. Constant game, constant pretense, constant fear of being exposed.

This exhausts, depletes, empties. But soon everything will end. Today in the evening John will be arrested.

He either will cooperate, or go to prison. And I either will start a new life under Mark’s protection, or return to my usual life. Without John, without his lie, without his betrayal.

Choice that I will have to make. But not now. Now I can only wait.

And hope that everything will end well. For me. For John.

For all of us. The car drove through the city, winding in the stream of transport. I looked out the window, not particularly paying attention to the route.

Wherever we are going, this is the safe place Dmitry talked about. The place where I will wait until everything ends. After some time, I noticed that we are leaving the city.

Suburbs, cottage settlements, forest. Where are we going? Why so far from New York? How far is it? I asked, starting to worry. Not far, soon we’ll arrive, answered Dmitry.

Don’t worry, Anastasia Sergeevна. Everything is under control. I nodded, trying to calm down.

Mark promised to protect me. Michael believes him. So, I should believe too.

Despite all the games, all the manipulations. Despite the fact that they are taking me somewhere out of town, in unknown direction. The car turned off the main road, on a dirt road leading into the forest.

Drove a few more kilometers, stopped at the gates of some complex. High fence, security, cameras. Serious place.

The guard at the entrance checked some list, nodded, let us through. The car slowly drove into the territory, stopped at a three-story building, resembling a hotel or sanatorium. Arrived, said Dmitry.

Get out, Anastasia Sergeevна. I got out of the car, looked around. Forest, silence, fresh air.

The place really looked safe, isolated from the outside world. But also somewhat resembled a prison. Or a strict regime sanatorium, Dmitry led me inside the building.

Spacious hall, reception, like in a hotel. Behind the counter sat a young woman, typing something on the computer. Seeing us, smiled welcomingly.

Good day. How can I help? Anastasia Sergeevна Johnson, Dmitry presented me. Special guest of Mark Ashford.

The woman nodded, looked something on the computer. Yes, of course. Room 307, third floor.

Everything is ready, as Mark Ashford asked. She handed me an electronic key card. Pleasant stay, Anastasia Sergeевна.

If you need something, contact. I took the key, nodded in thanks. Dmitry led me to the elevator.

We ascended to the third floor, passed along the corridor to room 307. I opened the door with the key card, entered. The room was spacious, light, well furnished.

Big bed, wardrobe, table, armchair. Separate bathroom. Everything clean, tidy, modern.

More like a room in an expensive hotel than a room in a safe place. Settle in, said Dmitry, staying at the door. In the wardrobe there is clothing, in the bathroom toiletries.

If you need something, press the button by the bed. Dinner will be brought at seven. Thank you, I nodded, looking around.

How long will I stay here? This depends on the circumstances. Mark Ashford will contact you when everything ends. I nodded again.

I had no choice. Could only wait. And hope that everything will end well.

Dmitry went out, closed the door behind him. I approached, checked. Not locked.

I can go out if I want. Not a prisoner, but a guest. At least formally.

I sat on the bed, took the phone. Wanted to call Michael, learn what is happening. But the phone didn’t work.

No network, displayed on the screen. Strange. Or not strange.

Perhaps here, in the forest, just no connection. Or, more likely, there is a signal blocker. As in Mark’s house in San Francisco.

So, I’m really isolated from the outside world. Can’t contact anyone, can’t tell anyone where I am. Can only wait. And hope that Mark will keep his word.

That everything will end well. For me. For John.

For all of us. I lay on the bed, closed my eyes. Fatigue took its toll.

Events of recent days, constant tension, stress depleted me. I needed rest. At least a few hours of normal, calm sleep.

Woke up from a knock on the door. Opened my eyes, not immediately understanding where I am. Then remembered.

Mark’s safe place. Room 307. Yes.

Responded I, sitting on the bed. The door opened. A young woman entered with a tray in her hands.

«Your dinner, Anastasia Sergeevна,» — she said, putting the tray on the table. «Bon appetit». I looked at the clock.

Seven in the evening. Slept several hours. But felt rested, more energetic.

«Thank you,» — I nodded. «Do you know if there are news from Mark Ashford? No, nothing was reported to me. But if there are news, they will be transmitted to you immediately». She went out, leaving me alone with the tray of food.

Dinner looked appetizing. Steak, vegetables, fresh bread, bottle of wine. I wasn’t hungry, but forced myself to eat.

Need to maintain strength. Unknown what awaits me ahead. After dinner, I took a shower, changed into clothes I found in the wardrobe.

Everything fit in size, as if specially selected for me. Perhaps so it was. Mark is foresighted, thinks about everything.

I sat in the armchair by the window, looking at the darkening forest. The sun was setting, coloring the sky in shades of red and gold. Beautiful, calm, soothing.

If not for the circumstances, I could enjoy this view, this moment. But the circumstances were what they were. My husband, perhaps, already arrested.

Interrogated, perhaps under pressure. Decides whether to cooperate or not. To give testimony against Patterson or to remain silent.

And I sit here, in a safe place, and can’t do anything. Can only wait. And hope.

Time passed slowly. 8, 9, 10 in the evening. No news, no messages from Mark.

I began to nervous. What is happening? Why so long? What happened to John? At 11, I decided to go to bed. Pointless to sit and wait for news that may come tomorrow, the day after, or never at all.

Better to rest, gain strength. Tomorrow will be a new day. Perhaps with new news.

I lay in bed, turned off the light. The room plunged into darkness, only lunar light penetrated through the window, creating bizarre shadows on the walls. I closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep.

But sleep didn’t come. Too many thoughts, too many questions, too many worries. What is with John now? Is he arrested? What did he say? Did he agree to cooperate? Or refused, denies everything, silent? And what with Mark? With Michael? Are they safe? Did the operation succeed? Or something went wrong? And what with me? What will be further? New life under Mark’s protection? Or return to usual life, without John, without his lie, without his betrayal? Too many questions, too few answers.

I tossed and turned in bed, unable to fall asleep. The clock showed midnight, then one, then two. I was still awake, still full of anxiety, worry, uncertainty.

And then heard it. The sound of the opening door. Quiet, cautious, almost unnoticeable.

But I heard. And froze, pretending to sleep. Who is this? Mark came with news? Dmitry checks if everything is okay.

Or someone else? Someone dangerous? Steps. Light, cautious. Approaching the bed.

I lay motionless, trying to breathe evenly, as in sleep. Hand under the pillow, groped for the fruit knife, which I hid from dinner. Small, but sharp…