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!»…

Under the power of attorney lay two tickets. Electronic printouts. Airline—Montego Air.

Flight to Tahiti. Departure date—Saturday, the day after the scheduled apartment sale. One-way tickets.

She looked at the passengers’ names. First ticket—David Thompson, second ticket—Sophia Ca—Sophia Carter. Emily clutched at that letter.

Ca. She couldn’t think of any acquaintance starting with Ca. Catherine? Cassie? Christina? Maybe it’s a mistake? A typo at the airline? Or just a coincidence? Some other Carter with whom David decided to run away, stealing her money.

The thought was monstrous, but she desperately clung to it, because the truth that was already emerging in her mind was even worse. She wanted to put these damned papers away, stuff everything back into the bag, pretend she hadn’t seen anything. But her fingers felt something small and hard at the bottom of the bag.

She shook it out onto the couch. A small silver medallion on a thin chain. Oval, with an engraved lilac branch.

Grandma’s medallion. When Grandma was dying, she gave it to Emily. Said it would bring her happiness.

Emily wore it for several years. Then, about seven years ago, that terrible argument happened. Her younger sister Sophia saw the medallion and threw a tantrum.

That she, the younger one, never got anything, that Emily always got the best. Mom took Sophia’s side then. Emily, you’re the older one, be smarter.

Give in to your sister, she wants it so much. You’re generous. And Emily gave in.

Took it off her neck and gave it to Sophia. For peace in the family. Mom praised that act for a long time afterward.

What a magnanimous older daughter she had. And Emily just buried the hurt deep inside. And now, this medallion lay before her.

Next to the ticket in the name of Sophia Ca—Carter. Ca, Sophia. Sophia Carter.

Her younger sister. At that moment, the world ceased to exist for Emily. Sounds vanished.

Colors faded. Before her eyes were only these three things. The forged power of attorney, the ticket in her sister’s name, and her own medallion, once sacrificed for family peace.

This wasn’t just betrayal. It was mockery. A sneer at her kindness, at her self-sacrifice.

Cold, starting at her fingertips, slowly crept up her arms, to her shoulders, to her heart. She couldn’t breathe. She opened her mouth to say something, to scream, but no sound came from her throat.

Her legs gave way. Slowly, silently, she slid off the couch onto the floor. The floor was cold.

Emily sat on it, hugging her knees, staring at one point, at the pile of papers and the silver medallion scattered on the light carpet pile. The silence in the room became deafening, thick as fog. It seemed even the air had frozen.

Michael grunted, rising from the armchair. His old joints creaked protestingly. He approached and stood silently over her.

Emily didn’t lift her head. She felt his gaze, heavy, full of mute sorrow. He didn’t say «I warned you.»

There was no need. «Get up, Emily,» he said finally, his voice muffled and tired. «Sitting on the floor won’t help.»

She slowly raised her eyes to him. There were no tears in them. Only emptiness and cold, ringing bewilderment.

As if her world, so understandable and solid just an hour ago, turned out to be a cardboard set, and someone yanked the string sharply, showing that behind it was only darkness and deceit. «Him and Sophia,» she whispered. Her sister’s name came with difficulty.

As if her tongue didn’t want to pronounce it. Michael sighed heavily. «I didn’t know about your sister.

I only knew David was up to something. That he had become a stranger. Just like I once was.»

He extended his hand to her. Emily grabbed it; his palm was dry and calloused, like tree bark. He helped her rise on wobbly, disobedient legs.

She sat back on the couch, her gaze fixed on the evidence of betrayal. The medallion gleamed in a ray of sunlight piercing through the curtain. A stab to the heart.

Not just her husband’s betrayal. Her sister’s betrayal, for whom she had once given up that medallion. Both of them, the closest people to her, conspired to destroy her.

The first impulse, wild and animalistic, was to call. Call David and scream into the phone everything she thought of him. Call Sophia and ask why.

Call Mom, sob, complain, seek protection. And immediately an icy wave of common sense washed over her. What would that achieve? David would say she was crazy.

That it was some mistake, a setup. He knew how to be persuasive. He would twist everything so she ended up the guilty hysteric.

And Sophia? Sophia would start crying. She always started crying when cornered. And Mom, of course, would rush to defend her.

Emily, how can you say that about your sister? You’re stressed from the apartment sale, you’re winding yourself up. She already heard those words in her head. No.

Confrontation is a trap. That’s exactly what they expect. They’ll just deny everything.

They have the forged power of attorney in hand, giving them all the power. And she has only her word against their joint lies. And this hiding place, which they’ll immediately call her invention.

We need to put everything away, she said aloud, surprised at her own calm, businesslike tone. Her voice sounded foreign. Michael nodded, understanding.

Right. They mustn’t know that you know. That’s your only advantage.

Emily began to act. Her hands still trembled, but now their movements had purpose. She carefully gathered the money, folded the power of attorney, the tickets.

Picked up the medallion. For a second, she clenched it in her fist; the cold metal burned her skin. Then she shoved everything back into the black waterproof bag and zipped it.

This needs to be hidden, she said, looking around. But not here. He might come back and start looking.

Give it to me, Michael said simply. He definitely won’t look at my place. Emily handed him the bag without hesitation.

Her father-in-law took it and hid it in the inner pocket of his jacket. Now there was no trace left in the room of what had happened. Only the broken tile in the bathroom.

And what about that? She nodded toward the bathroom. Leave it. If he asks, say something heavy fell.

A perfume bottle, a jar of cream. Doesn’t matter. Let him think it’s an accident.

That’s not the main thing now. Main thing. And what’s the main thing now? The main thing is to understand what’s really going on.

These tickets. This power of attorney, that’s their plan. But what stage is it at? The apartment sale is still a whole week away.

Seven days. She has time. Time to do something…