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!»…

Need to gather more information. Need to act, but act carefully, like a sapper in a minefield. An idea came to her.

Simple and safe. She would play her role to the end. The role of a loving, unsuspecting wife waiting for her husband from a business trip and fussing over the upcoming deal.

I need to make a call, she said, standing up. Michael looked at her questioningly.

To the realtor. Steve. I just, I just want to check about viewings next week.

Ask if everything’s still on? That’s normal? Normal, nodded her father-in-law. That’s a very good idea. He stayed sitting in the living room, while Emily went to the kitchen.

She poured a glass of water from the filter, drank it in one gulp. The water was icy, but inside her everything burned. She found the real estate agency’s business card, stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

Steve. A cheerful, plump man about 50, who had introduced them to the deal. She dialed the number.

Her voice needed to sound normal. Light. A bit excited about the upcoming sale.

The voice of a happy woman on the threshold of a new life. She took several deep breaths before pressing the call button. Hello, New Home Agency, Steve speaking, came the cheerful voice on the line.

Steve, hello. This is Emily Carter, about the apartment on Main Street. David Thompson’s wife.

Emily, good day. Glad to hear from you. How can I help? Did David forget to pass something to me? Oh, no, not at all.

David’s on a business trip, bad connection. I’m just calling on my own, wanted to clarify. We have the deal next week, right? I wanted to ask if there will be more viewings, or is that all? So I know when to keep the apartment in perfect order.

She delivered this monologue in one breath, trying to make it sound as natural as possible. There was silence on the line for a few seconds. Emily thought she could hear her own heart beating.

Next week? Steve repeated, and his voice held clear bewilderment. Emily, I don’t understand. Her insides turned cold.

Well, yes, we agreed the deal would be next Thursday. David said. Emily, your husband was here yesterday.

Steve said slowly, as if choosing his words. He brought a general power of attorney from you. Said you’re very busy and fully trust him with all financial matters.

Yes, yes, the power of attorney, of course, Emily hurried to agree, feeling the ground start to slip away again that day. So, has something changed? Everything has changed, the realtor said more confidently. An urgent buyer appeared.

A person with cash, ready to close the deal immediately. Offered a good price, and David agreed. He said you urgently need the money for buying a house, and there’s no sense waiting a week.

We signed the preliminary contract yesterday. Emily was silent, clutching the phone with whitened fingers. She couldn’t utter a word.

Steve apparently took her silence as agreement. Anyway, congratulations. The buyer is very serious, no mortgages, no delays.

He’s already made the deposit. We’re urgently preparing the final documents now. David said you’re in a hurry.

So, Emily, everything’s great. The deal closes the day after tomorrow. On Friday.

The day after tomorrow. Friday. Not in a week.

In 48 hours. Thank you, Steve, she heard her own voice as if from afar. It was muffled and lifeless.

Thanks for the info. This, this is wonderful news. She hung up.

The phone slipped from her damp palm and thudded onto the linoleum. 48 hours. She didn’t have a week.

She had only two days. And then the second, even more terrifying truth hit her. He’s not on a business trip.

Yesterday he was at the realtor’s. Today he’s probably running around offices, collecting the last certificates. He’s here.

In this same city. Right nearby. And while she was dusting and watering flowers, he was coolly completing his plan to rob her and disappear with her sister.

The trap was closing. And she had only two days to try to escape it. The phone lay on the floor, but Emily didn’t even notice.

She stood in the middle of the kitchen, leaning on the countertop, staring into nowhere. The day after tomorrow. The word pounded in her temples like a hammer.

Not a week. Not seven days for thought, for a plan, for salvation. Just 48 hours.

Two turns of the clock hands, and her life as she knew it would cease to exist. Michael came out from the living room. He saw her frozen figure, the phone on the floor.

He didn’t need to ask what happened. It was all written on her face. What did he say? Her father-in-law asked quietly.

The deal’s on Friday. The day after tomorrow, Emily answered lifelessly. David is here.

In the city. He wasn’t on a business trip. He was here all this time.

She raised her eyes to Michael, and there was no longer shock or confusion in them. A cold, dry fire burned there. Panic had passed, giving way to icy rage.

The rage of a cornered animal with nothing left to lose. «I can’t sit and wait,» she said, and her voice became firm, unfamiliar. «I can’t let them do this.

I need to see them. I need to look them in the eyes. What are you planning?» «Be careful,» asked Michael.

«Today is Wednesday,» said Emily, and her brain, paralyzed by horror, suddenly worked at feverish speed. Wednesday is family dinner at Mom’s. Sophia is always there.

Always. The plan was born in an instant. Insane, risky, desperate.

But she had no other. She couldn’t go to the police with a story about a hiding place and a stolen medallion; they’d laugh at her. She couldn’t contest the power of attorney in two days.

The only thing she could do was drag them into the light. Force them to show their true faces. She went to the bedroom, opened the closet.

Began changing. Her hands moved automatically. Took off her home T-shirt, put on a simple dark sweater.

Jeans. Nothing provocative. She needed to look calm.

Tired, but calm. Any emotion would be used against her. She went to the vanity and took her purse.

Opened it. The medallion, which she had taken from the carpet, lay in the inner pocket. She took it in her hand again.

It seemed heavy as a stone. The weapon she was going to use. She put it back.

«I’ll go alone,» she said to Michael, who stood in the bedroom doorway. «This is our family matter. Your presence will only complicate everything.

Be careful, Emily,» he replied. There was concern in his voice. They are dangerous.

Don’t underestimate them. I don’t underestimate them anymore, she smiled bitterly. I don’t know them at all anymore.

She arrived at her mother’s house half an hour later. The smell of Mom’s cabbage pies wafted from the windows. The smell of childhood, comfort, safety.

Today that smell seemed fake, like a theater set. She stood at the entrance, took a deep breath of the cold evening air, gathering strength. Then entered.

The apartment was warm and noisy. The TV was on. Mom, Irene, bustled in the kitchen, rosy and content.

Sophia sat at the table in the living room, flipping through a magazine. She looked up when Emily entered. «Oh, hi!» she drawled lazily.

«We thought you wouldn’t come. Your David is burning at work, and you’re moping at home?» «Hi, Mom.» «Hi, Sophia.

Emily forced herself to smile. She approached and kissed her mother on the cheek. «Smells wonderful.

«Sit, sit, we’ll eat soon,» Irene fussed. Sophia helped me today, can you imagine? Emily sat at the table. She felt her sister’s gaze on her, studying, a bit mocking.

She pretended to examine the new curtains. For a few minutes, they talked about trifles, the weather, Mom’s neighbors, some TV show. Emily barely participated, just nodded and smiled.

She waited for the moment. And when Mom put a large dish of pies on the table, Emily casually turned to her sister. «Sophia, are you planning a vacation anytime soon?» she asked.

Her voice sounded even, almost indifferent. Sophia froze for a second with a fork in hand. Her eyes quickly darted to her mother and back.

«Why do you think that?» She tried to feign surprise. «No, of course. What trip? Work’s piled up.

«Really?» «Strange,» Emily drawled, looking straight into her eyes. «For some reason, I thought you were going somewhere. Far away.

Tension hung in the air. Mom sensed it and frowned. «Girls, what’s this?» «Emily, what strange questions? Emily didn’t answer.

She pretended to search for something in her purse, which stood next to her on the chair. She rummaged in it, feigning annoyance. «Darn, I think I left my lipstick at home.

Oh.» She fell silent and slowly pulled out her hand. On her palm lay the silver medallion.

It gleamed dully in the chandelier light. Look what I found, she extended it across the table to Sophia. Her voice was quiet, but in the ensuing silence, it rang like a shot.

«How did it get here? I thought I gave it to you.» Time stopped. Emily saw the blood drain from Sophia’s face.

For a second, pure animal fear flashed on it. She stared at the medallion like a snake. Then fear turned to rage.

Her face twisted. «You!» she hissed, jumping up from the chair so sharply it almost fell. «You stole it.

I knew it. You broke into my jewelry box. Thief! The accusation was so wild, so false, that Emily was speechless for a moment.

Her mother immediately jumped to Sophia, hugging her shoulders. «Sophia, hush, sweetie, calm down.» She turned to Emily, her face twisted in anger.

«Emily! What are you doing? What is this circus? Always with your envious games. You can’t live peacefully knowing your sister has it good.» «Mom, I didn’t…» «Shut up.

Irene cut her off. You came here to humiliate your sister. I see right through you.

Give her back the medallion and apologize. Sophia was already sobbing hysterically, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder. These were familiar, well-practiced tears.

Tears that always made her the victim, Emily the aggressor. And at that very moment, when the scandal reached its peak, a key turned in the lock, and the front door opened. David stood on the threshold.

Smiling, fresh, with a cake in hand. The perfect husband, dropping by his mother-in-law after a hard day’s work. He froze on the threshold for just a moment.

One glance was enough for him to assess the whole picture. Sobbing Sophia, furious mother-in-law, and his wife, Emily, sitting at the table with a stone face. He didn’t ask what happened.

He understood everything. And he made his choice. He walked past Emily as if she were empty space.

Went straight to Sophia, who was still sniffling on her mother’s shoulder. He gently pushed the mother-in-law aside and put his arm around Sophia’s shoulders, pulling her to him. It was the gesture of an owner.

A protector. He looked at Irene with a calm, confident gaze. «Irene, don’t worry,» he said quietly and conciliatorily, stroking Sophia’s hair.

Emily has been under a lot of stress lately, the apartment sale, all that. She’s become a bit paranoid. He paused, letting the words sink in.

Then he looked straight at Emily. There was no guilt, no regret in his eyes. Only cold, merciless calculation.

«Making things up,» he finished, addressing the mother-in-law but looking at his wife. At that moment, Emily understood. It was over.

This was no longer a secret conspiracy. They had brought it into the open. They weren’t going to hide or apologize.

They simply rewrote reality, in which she was the crazy one, and they were innocent victims of her sick fantasy. He had publicly, in front of her own mother, taken her sister’s side against her. He had declared war on her, and her family was on his side.

David’s words hung in the air, thick and poisonous. Paranoid. He had pronounced her sentence.

Her mother looked at her with reproach and pity, as if Emily really was sick. Sophia, still pressed against David, threw her sister a quick, triumphant glance. Victory splashed in her tear-wet eyes.

Emily silently stood from the table. She said nothing. Arguing was useless…