“No husband, no success,” the girls from her old class whispered behind her back at the school reunion. Their faces fell when her companion walked into the room.
“Look, Belyaeva showed up. Alone, as usual.”
The hushed words struck Kseniya like a knife between the ribs. She didnt turn around. Why bother? She already knew who it was. Veronica Odintsova.
The queen bee of their school days, whose venom had only grown stronger over the years.
The restaurant buzzed like a disturbed hive. Ten years later, and nothing had changed. The music blared, drowning out the clinking glasses and hollow compliments. Kseniya took a few steps forward, feeling like shed stepped into enemy territory. She knew her arrival wouldnt go unnoticed.
“That dress probably from some discount shop,” piped up another voice. Svetlana Polyakova, Veronicas ever-loyal shadow.
Kseniya ran her finger along the rim of her mineral water glass. The dress had been custom-made from her own sketches. But they wouldnt understand that. To them, value was measured in flashy logos.
She scanned the room. The same faces, just marked by timesome with receding hairlines, others with crows feet or extra weight. But their eyes still held that same hungerto prove themselves at someone elses expense.
She felt their stares burning into her back. They were waiting for a reaction. Waiting for her to hunch over, to flee to the toilets like she had in Year 10 when theyd poured icy soda down her neck in front of the whole canteen.
But Kseniya didnt flinch. She just adjusted the perfect fold of her sleeve.
She took a sip. The water tasted bland.
Veronica couldnt resist breaking the silence. She sauntered over, dripping in sequins and self-satisfaction, her entourage trailing behind.
“Ksyusha! Hi! I thought you wouldnt come. Too scared?”
Her smile was a masterpieceperfect veneers, not an ounce of warmth.
“Good evening, Veronica,” Kseniya replied evenly, looking her straight in the eye.
“How are you? Still buried in dusty archives? Sorting through papers no one cares about?”
It wasnt a question. It was a statement. A declaration of her worthlessness.
“I changed jobs.”
“Oh, really?” Veronicas voice dripped with mock surprise and disdain. “Promoted to senior archivist with a hazard pay bonus?”
A hush fell around them. Conversations stopped. Everyone was watching. This was their little show.
Kseniya smiled faintly. She knew what they wanted. They craved confirmation of her dull, grey lifethe mortgage she paid alone, the dead-end career, the fact that nothing had worked out. They needed validation that their school hierarchy had been right.
That they were the winners, and she was still on the sidelines.
“Something like that,” Kseniya said vaguely, giving them exactly what they wanted.
Veronica snorted triumphantly and turned back to her followers as if to say, *See? Told you.*
“I knew it. Nothings changed. No love life, no proper career.”
The words were loud enough for everyone to hear. A verdict, delivered and sealed.
Kseniya lowered her eyes to her glass. Her fingers, wrapped around the delicate stem, didnt tremble. She simply waited.
And then, the heavy doors of the restaurant swung open.
A man walked in.
Tall, in an impeccable suit worth more than all their cars combined. His movements were confident, effortless. He murmured something to the host, then scanned the room.
The noisy crowd of alumni choked into silence. The music suddenly felt too loud, too out of place.
Every female gaze locked onto him. Who was he? A politician? A businessman?
The man frowned, searching for someone. Then he found her.
His expression softened, and he smiledthe same smile Kseniya saw every morning. The one reserved only for her.
Ignoring the stunned faces and gaping mouths, he strode across the room. Straight to her table.
He reached out and gently touched her shoulder.
“Sorry I kept you waiting. Negotiations ran late.”
Kseniya looked up and smiled backwarm, genuine.
“Its alright, Svyatoslav. I knew youd come.”
He leaned down and kissed herlight but deliberate. A gesture so intimate, so unshakably certain, it spoke louder than any words.
Veronicas face froze in pure shock. Her brain scrambled to process what didnt fit into her worldview.
She recovered first. And, of course, she attacked.
“Ksyusha, arent you going to introduce us?” Her voice oozed false sweetness.
“Veronica, this is Svyatoslav,” Kseniya said calmly. “Svyatoslav, these are my old classmates.”
Someone at the far end of the table dropped a fork.
“Wait Orlov? *The* Svyatoslav Orlov?”
Recognition flashed through the room. Phones that had been filming drunken dancing moments ago now turned toward them.
Svyatoslav Orlov. The rock star whose ballads played on every radio station, whose concert tickets sold out in hours.
Veronica paled beneath her makeup. This was a gut punch. It shattered everything.
But she wasnt about to back down. Her weapon had never been brute forceit was poison, delivered with a smile.
“Well, well We were just saying how Belyaeva had no husband and no success. Turns out, you just took the easy way out.”
She raked her eyes over Kseniya.
“Always the quiet one, but you didnt miss your chance, did you? Good for you.”
It was a slap disguised as praise. An accusation of calculation. An attempt to reduce it all to her “snagging a sugar daddy.”
Kseniya clenched inside. Shed wanted one thingto get through this evening peacefully. She tried to deflect.
“Veronica, lets not do this. We came to relax.”
It was a mistake. Her restraint was taken as weakness. As admission of guilt.
“Whats the big deal?” Veronica laughed, addressing the crowd now. “Were just curious!”
“How did our little mouse manage to charm such a *predator*? Whats your secret, Belyaeva? All those dusty manuscript stories?”
Svyatoslav tensed. He glanced at Kseniya, waiting for her signal. But she stayed silent, staring at her former tormentor.
She didnt see a grown woman. She saw the same schoolgirl who thrived on humiliation. Who needed to crush someone to feel tall.
And her plan for the eveningto show up, stay composed, leave with her head highcrumbled to dust. Her attempt at diplomacy had failed spectacularly.
Veronica, relishing the effect, went for the kill.
“Or is this just a rented escort? Its trendy now, hiring pretty boys by the hour. How much does a star cost, eh, Ksyusha? Share the contact.”
Her clique erupted in laughter.
And in that moment, Kseniya understood.
*Enough.*
Svyatoslav stepped forward, his face hardening.
“Listen”
But Kseniya stopped him with a hand on his chest. The gesture said, *This is mine to handle.* He fell silent, trusting her.
She rose from her chairslowly, deliberately. No rush, no tremor. Just icy, absolute calm. She looked Veronica dead in the eye.
“You asked what I do for work.”
Her voice was quiet, but in the thick silence, everyone heard. This was the voice of someone who was no longer afraid.
“You were almost right. My career did start in an archive. There, among old recordings, I found a demoan unknown guy with an incredible voice and a guitar.”
She glanced at Svyatoslav.
“I spent a year restoring that tape, tracking him down, convincing him his music deserved to be heard. Then four more years building the company that made him a star.”
She paused, letting it sink in.
“The last four years, Ive been CEO and co-owner of Orlov Music.”
Phones that had been passively pointed at them now actively recorded.
“Every platinum album, every European tour, every endorsement dealthats my work. I didnt *find* him, Veronica. I built an empire around his talent.”
Veronicas face contorted. Her foundation couldnt hide the blotchy rage beneath. She opened her mouth, but no words came.
Kseniya continued, her voice never rising.
“And about that rented escort idea Interesting theory. Especially coming from you.”
She shifted her gaze to the man behind Veronicaher husband, polished but visibly nervous.
“Your family business, Vector Media, right? Just last week, I rejected an acquisition offer.”
Veronicas husband flinched like hed been struck.
“My legal team advised against it. Too risky. Unstable management, questionable reputation. And enormous debt.”
Now he paled too. He stared at his wife in horror.
Kseniya locked eyes with Veronica again.
“So if were
