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!»…

A web woven so close, so brazenly. Emily sat, looking at her hands on the table. They didn’t tremble.

Inside, everything had burned to ashes, leaving only cold ash. Rage gone, panic gone. Only strange, detached curiosity of a surgeon studying a fatal disease.

She now knew the enemy. It wasn’t just a greedy husband. It was a tandem.

David—brute force, push, greed. Sophia—quiet poison, calculating malice, behind-the-scenes intrigue. And this tandem was much scarier.

«We have no time,» she said, and her own voice seemed foreign to her, firm as steel. «The day after tomorrow at lunch everything will be over. Suing the notary, proving his connection to Sophia—that’s months.

I don’t have months. I have 15 hours.» Michael looked at her with concern.

«What are you going to do?» Emily raised her eyes to him. There were no tears in them, only icy resolve. «I can’t attack them head-on.

They’re too well protected. Their truth is stronger than mine. So I have to make them attack themselves.

I have to make them talk.» «They won’t talk to you,» Michael objected. «After yesterday, they’ll stay away from you.

They won’t talk to strong Emily,» she replied. «They won’t talk to accusing Emily. But maybe they’ll talk to broken, crushed, defeated Emily.»

«Wait! The way they want to see me!» The plan was insane. It was born from the ashes of her despair, as the only possible option. Risky, dangerous, built on pure psychology.

But she knew her sister. She knew her weak spot. Her vanity.

Her need to feel smarter, cleverer, stronger. «I need to see Sophia. Alone,» said Emily.

«And it needs to look like a cry for help.» She knew where to find her sister. After work, Sophia often stopped at a small cafe near her dentistry.

Drank coffee, scrolled social media. Waited for traffic to ease. Emily drove there.

She didn’t call, didn’t warn. Surprise was part of her plan. She sat in the car across the street and waited.

Half an hour later, she saw Sophia leave the clinic. In a new coat, with a fashionable bag. She looked content with life.

A winner. Sophia entered the cafe, sat by the window. Ordered a cappuccino and pastry.

Emily watched her for a few minutes. Studied. Memorized that self-assured pose, that relaxed smile.

Then she got out of the car. Before entering, she looked at her reflection in the dark shop window. She forced herself to slouch.

Relaxed her facial muscles, letting the despair she had held back so long show through. She ran a hand through her hair to make it look disheveled. She was turning herself into that very paranoid woman David had called her.

She pushed the door. A bell tinkled. Sophia looked up from her phone and saw her.

The smile vanished from her face. She tensed, ready for defense. Emily slowly approached her table.

She didn’t sit. Just stood, looking down at her sister. «What do you want?» Sophia asked coldly, glancing around.

Emily was silent a second, letting tension build. Then she spoke. Her voice was quiet, cracked, full of hopelessness.

«It’s all over, Sophia.» She said those words so that there was no accusation in them. Only a statement of fact.

Sophia looked at her warily. She didn’t understand where this was going. «I was at a lawyer’s,» Emily continued in the same empty voice.

He looked at all the documents. The contract. That power of attorney.

She stumbled on the last word, as if it hurt to say it. He said «I can’t do anything.» Nothing.

The signature is notarized. The deal is legal. Tomorrow I’ll be on the street.

Without a cent. She looked at her sister, and her eyes held plea. Not for help.

For understanding. Sophia relaxed. Poorly concealed triumph appeared on her face.

She leaned back in her chair. She saw before her exactly what she wanted to see—her older sister, always so proper, so strong, now completely crushed and defeated. «Well, sorry,» she said with fake sympathy.

«So that’s your fate,» the lawyer said. Emily paused, as if gathering strength. He said there’s only one ghostly chance.

If the notary himself confessed that he was forced. That he signed the paper under pressure.

If he could prove he was blackmailed. Then the deal could be stopped. Emily raised her eyes to her sister, full of desperate, irrational hope.

She looked at her like a drowning person at a passing ship. «You, you know him, right?» she whispered. «This notary, Paul Victor.

He’s somehow connected to your work. Could you, could you know how he could be pressured. Maybe he has problems.

Debts? Something to hook him on.» This was the key moment. She wasn’t accusing.

She was asking for help. She appealed to Sophia’s knowledge, her connections. She pretended to believe in her innocence and just seek a loophole.

And Sophia bit. She looked at her broken sister. And her vanity, her desire to boast of her mind and cunning, overrode caution.

She wanted not just to win. She wanted her victory recognized. For Emily to understand who was really the puppeteer in this game.

She smirked. Leaned forward across the table, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. «My naive sister,» she said mockingly.

«You still don’t get it. You think David came up with all this himself? He’s strong. But he lacks the brains for such subtle things.»

Emily stared at her silently, eyes wide. She feigned shock. This Paul Victor of yours, continued Sophia, reveling in her power, her knowledge.

He has a little weakness. He gambles. Not in casinos, of course.

On underground bets. Loses a lot. I found out by accident, from one of our clients whose husband dealt with him.

And I realized this was our chance. She took a sip of her cappuccino, savoring the moment. People with debts are ready for a lot to solve their problems.

He had long been helping the right people speed up document processing. For cash, of course. Off the books.

Emily listened, and her blood ran cold. She saw before her not her little sister, but a cold, calculating monster. «But how, how did you force him?» she whispered.

This was the main question. Sophia smiled. Her smile was cruel and smug.

I asked a friend. For a small favor. He followed Paul Victor.

And one fine evening, photographed him in a dark alley behind a business center. Just as our notary was accepting a thick envelope with money from another client. The photo turned out great.

Very clear. She leaned back in her chair again, her eyes shining. I came to his office.

Alone. Showed him this photo. And the negative.

Explained that if he doesn’t help us with one small formality, these photos will go not only to the police but also to the notary chamber. And his career, maybe even freedom, will end. He turned pale, shook.

But understood everything. And signed your power of attorney without extra questions. She finished her story and looked at Emily with contempt and triumph.

Some people break so easily, she said, and pure, unadulterated evil rang in her voice. You just need to know where to press. Just like you.

At that moment, Emily understood. Sophia wasn’t just an accomplice. She was a blackmailer.

She was the architect of this fraud. She found the weak spot, collected dirt, and coolly used it. In her hands was not just a verbal threat, but physical evidence—a photo and negative—that kept the notary on a short leash.

And she had just confessed to all of it. Sophia’s words hung in the cafe air, mixing with the smell of coffee and vanilla. Some people break so easily.

Just like you. She said it and sipped her cappuccino, looking at Emily over the cup. A winner’s gaze.

Emily stood thunderstruck. But it was only a facade. Inside, everything hummed with tension…