One week before the apartment sale, my father-in-law told me: «While your husband is away, take a hammer and smash the tile behind the toilet in the bathroom!»…

«Let’s go. I’m coming with you.» Emily looked at this small, quiet woman in gray, who had just staked her whole calm life on a promise to a dead friend.

At that moment, Emily understood they had a chance. A real one. They ran out of the archive building.

Less than an hour to noon. «Where are we going?» Emily asked, getting behind the wheel. «First to court,» Valerie answered, clutching the dusty folder like the most precious treasure.

We need to file a motion for interim measures. Need to officially register our claim and demand an arrest on any deals with real estate in this building. I have an acquaintance, a judge’s assistant, he’ll help do it quickly.»

She spoke clearly, businesslike. Fear gone, replaced by the professional grip of an archivist knowing the procedure. They raced through the city, breaking all rules.

Every traffic light, every jam seemed a personal enemy. In the courthouse, Valerie acted with amazing speed. She found her acquaintance, explained the situation, showed the first page from the archive file.

He, seeing the official seals and old signatures, understood everything and without extra words helped draft the motion. Twenty minutes later, they had a copy of the motion with incoming number and acceptance mark. That was enough.

The legal mechanism was launched. Now to the notary, said Valerie, getting back in the car. The deal is probably at the same Paul Victor’s.

He must be sure everything’s under control. They arrived at the notary office five minutes before noon. Emily’s heart pounded in her throat.

This was the finale. Now everything would be decided. They saw them immediately.

David, Sophia, and another grim, stocky man, obviously Raven’s representative, coming out the office doors. In David’s hands was a folder with documents. Relief and triumph on their faces.

They had done it. They made it. Seeing Emily, Michael, and an unknown woman with an archive folder, they froze.

The smile slid off David’s face. Sophia paled and instinctively stepped behind him. At this moment, Valerie stepped forward.

The small, unnoticeable woman in gray. She stood right before them. «The deal is invalid,» she said.

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it held such unshakable confidence that everyone fell silent. «Who the hell are you?» the grim man asked hostilely, stepping toward her. Valerie didn’t retreat.

She raised her clear eyes to him. «I am the chief custodian of the city archive funds. And this—» she raised the dusty folder, «is the original ‘Land Case’ on which your building stands.

And according to these documents, the land has historical monument status, making any construction on it, and accordingly any real estate deals in this building—illegal.» She spoke calmly, like on a lecture. This morning, she looked at her watch, 40 minutes ago.

A motion was filed in city court to declare the building permit invalid and impose an arrest on all registration actions at this address. Here’s a copy of the motion, with the court mark. She handed the paper to the grim man.

He snatched it, scanned it. His face from hostile became crimson with rage. He wasn’t a lawyer, but words «court,» «arrest,» and «illegal» he understood perfectly.

He realized the apartment he had just bought turned into a legal mine. A toxic asset he’d now be stuck with for years. What the fuck is this? He roared, turning to David.

He grabbed him by the shirt collar. You were supposed to give me a clean apartment. And this what? What the hell historical monuments? Return my money. Every cent.

And interest. You know my interest? David mumbled something, tried to break free. Sophia screamed.

The loud scandal on the downtown street began attracting attention. Passersby stopped, pulled out phones. A ring of curious formed.

At this moment, Emily stepped forward. She stood in the center of this impromptu theater. «I can explain to everyone what’s going on here,» she said loudly and clearly.

She looked at the gathered people, at the pale faces of David and Sophia. There was no fear anymore. This man, my husband, David Thompson, and his mistress, my sister, Sophia Carter, tried to sell our joint apartment behind my back.

She spoke, and words flowed from her. She told everything. About the forged power of attorney.

About the notary her sister blackmailed. About the stolen money from the account. About the debt to this man.

About how they tried to make her seem crazy. She didn’t shout. She just stated facts.

Dryly and mercilessly. And people listened. They looked at trembling David, sobbing Sophia, and believed her.

And then, in the crowd, she saw her mother. Irene, breathless, with horror and incomprehension on her face. She looked at this public shame, at her younger daughter now being torn apart by the enraged thug, and at her older one standing in the center, head high.

Emily saw Michael, standing aside, lower his phone. He had called her. You had to see this, Irene, he said quietly when she approached closer.

Not hear. See. See what her protector turned into.

See what your weak girl is really worth. See that your choice led to this. Irene looked.

And she saw. She saw the panic fear and guilt on Sophia’s face. She saw the creditor’s cold fury.

And she saw Emily’s calm strength. And the truth she had so desperately tried to wall off from hit her in the face like a slap. Emily finished her story.

She no longer looked at David or Sophia. They ceased to exist for her. They were just pitiful, crushed figures left to be torn by the man in the expensive suit.

Their further fate no longer interested her. She turned to Michael and Valerie. «Let’s go from here,» she said.

They turned and walked away from the shouts, the crowd, this public collapse. They walked down the street, and for the first time in recent days, Emily felt the sun warming her face. The deal was dead.

The apartment was saved, albeit in such a radical way. She had won. She had defended her own.

Not just the apartment. Her name. Her truth.

Her life. She walked beside these two people, an old man tormented by guilt, and a quiet, unnoticeable woman with a lion’s heart. Her new, real family.

Reaching her car, she pulled out her phone. Found David’s number in contacts. Looked at it for a second.

Then, without hesitation, pressed «delete.» Then found Sophia. And did the same.

Then, Mom. Her finger hesitated for a moment. Then resolutely pressed «delete.»

She put the phone in her pocket. Got behind the wheel. Ahead, through the windshield, was the city bathed in midday sun.

And a new, unknown, but her own life. She shifted gear and drove forward. And so this story ended.