*”No husband, no success,”* whispered the girls behind her at the school reunion. Their faces fell as her companion entered the room
*”Look, its Belyaeva. Alone, as usual.”*
The words cut into Ksenia like a knife. She didnt turn. She didnt need to. She already knew who it was. Veronica Odintsova.
The queen bee of their school, whose venom had only grown sharper with time.
The restaurant buzzed like a disturbed hiveten years later. Music blared, drowning out clinking glasses and hollow compliments. Ksenia stepped inside, feeling like shed walked into enemy territory. She knew her arrival wouldnt go unnoticed.
*”That dress probably from some discount shop,”* chimed in a second voice. Svetlana Polyakova, Veronicas ever-loyal shadow.
Ksenia traced the rim of her mineral water glass. The dress had been custom-made from her own sketches. But they wouldnt understand. To them, value was measured by flashy labels.
She scanned the room. The same faces, just agedreceding hairlines, crows feet, extra weight. But their eyes held the same hunger: the need to prove themselves at someone elses expense.
She felt their stares burning into her back. They wanted a reaction. They expected her to shrink, to flee to the bathroom like she had in tenth grade when theyd dumped ice-cold soda down her neck in front of the whole cafeteria.
But Ksenia didnt flinch. She simply adjusted the flawless fold of her sleeve.
She took a sip. The water tasted like nothing.
Veronica couldnt stand the silence. She strutted over, dripping in sequins and smugness, her entourage trailing behind.
*”Ksyusha! Hi! I thought you wouldnt come. Scared?”*
Her smile was a masterpieceperfect veneers, not a trace of warmth.
*”Good evening, Veronica,”* Ksenia replied evenly, meeting her gaze.
*”So, 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.”*
*”Really?”* Veronicas voice oozed mock surprise. *”Promoted to senior archivist with a hazard bonus?”*
A hush fell around them. Conversations died. Everyone watched. This was their little show.
Ksenia smiled faintly. She knew what they wanted. They craved confirmation of a dull, grey lifeher lone mortgage, her lack of prospects, her failure to *”make it.”* They needed to believe their school hierarchy had been right. That they were the winners, and shed stayed on the sidelines.
*”Something like that,”* Ksenia said vaguely, giving them exactly what they wanted.
Veronica smirked triumphantly and turned to her followers, as if to say, *”See? Told you.”*
*”I knew it. Nothing changes. No love life, no real career.”*
The words rang outloud enough for everyone to hear. A verdict, delivered and sealed.
Ksenia lowered her eyes to her glass. Her fingers, wrapped around the stem, didnt tremble. She just waited.
And thenthe restaurants heavy doors swung open.
A man walked in.
Tall, in an immaculate suit worth more than all their cars combined. His movements were assured, calm. He murmured something to the host, then scanned the room.
The chatter froze. The music suddenly felt too loud, too crude.
Every womans eyes locked onto him. Who was he? A politician? A tycoon?
He frowned, searchingthen found her.
His face softened. He smiled the same smile Ksenia saw every morning. A smile meant only for her.
Ignoring the stunned silence and gaping mouths, he strode across the room. Straight to her table.
He touched her shoulder lightly.
*”Sorry Im late. Negotiations ran over.”*
Ksenia looked up and smiled backgenuine, warm.
*”Its fine, Svyatoslav. I knew youd come.”*
He leaned down and kissed herbrief but deliberate. A gesture so intimate it spoke louder than any words.
Veronicas face went slack with shock. Her brain scrambled to process what didnt fit her worldview.
She recovered first. And of course, she attacked.
*”Ksyusha, arent you going to introduce us?”* Her voice dripped sickly sweetness.
*”Veronica, this is Svyatoslav,”* Ksenia said calmly. *”Svyatoslav, these are my former classmates.”*
Someone at the far end of the table dropped a fork.
*”Wait Orlov? Svyatoslav Orlov? The Svyatoslav Orlov?”*
Recognition crackled through the room. Phones that had been filming drunken dancing moments ago now turned toward them.
Svyatoslav Orlov. The rock star whose ballads dominated the airwaves, whose concert tickets sold out in hours.
Veronica paled under her makeup. This was a gut punch. It shattered everything.
But she wasnt done. Her weapon had never been brute forceit was poison, disguised as a smile.
*”Well We were just saying how Belyaeva had no husband, no success. Turns out you just took the easy way out.”*
Her eyes raked Ksenia up and down.
*”Always the quiet one, but I guess you didnt miss your chance. Clever girl.”*
A slap masquerading as praise. An accusation of calculation. An attempt to reduce it all to *”gold-digging.”*
Ksenia felt her chest tighten. Shed wanted one thingto get through this night peacefully. She tried to deflect.
*”Veronica, lets not. Were here to enjoy ourselves.”*
A mistake. Her diplomacy was taken as weakness. As admission of guilt.
*”Oh, come on!”* Veronica laughed, addressing the crowd now. *”Were just curious! How did our little mouse snag such a star? Whats your secret, Belyaeva? Your thrilling tales of dusty manuscripts?”*
Svyatoslav tensed. He glanced at Ksenia, waiting for her cue. But she stayed silent, staring at her old tormentor.
She didnt see a grown woman. She saw the same schoolgirl who thrived on humiliation. Who needed to crush others to feel tall.
Her planto leave with her head held highcrumbled. Her attempt to *”be the bigger person”* had failed spectacularly.
Veronica, relishing the moment, went for the kill.
*”Or is this a rented date? Beautiful men for hirehow much per hour, Ksyusha? Share the contact!”*
Her entourage burst into laughter.
And in that moment, Ksenia realizedenough.
Svyatoslav stepped forward, his expression hardening.
*”Listen”*
But Ksenia stopped him with a hand on his chest. A silent command. He fell quiet, yielding to her.
She rose slowlyno rush, no tremor. Just icy calm. She looked Veronica dead in the eye.
*”You asked what I do.”*
Her voice was soft, but in the silence, everyone heard. This was the voice of someone unafraid.
*”You were almost right. My career did start in archives. There, in old recordings, I found a demo by an unknown guy. A voice like no other, raw talent with 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.”*
*”For the last four years, Ive been CEO and co-owner of Orlov Music.”*
She paused, letting it sink in. Phones that had been pointed at them now recorded eagerly.
*”Every platinum album, every European tour, every endorsementthats my work. I didnt snag him, Veronica. I built an empire around his talent.”*
Veronicas face twisted. Her makeup couldnt hide the blotchy panic. She opened her mouthbut no words came.
Ksenia continued, her tone unchanging.
*”As for a rented date Interesting theory. Especially from you.”*
Her gaze shifted to the man behind Veronicaher husband, polished but visibly nervous.
*”Your family business, Vector Media, right? Just last week, I declined an offer to acquire it.”*
Veronicas husband flinched like hed been struck.
*”My legal team flagged it. Too risky. Unstable leadership, questionable reputation. And massive debt.”*
Now he paled too. He stared at his wife in horror.
Ksenia turned back to Veronica. A direct look.
*”So if were talking contracts and contacts Maybe your husband should book a meeting. With me. Though after tonight I doubt
