“Neither a husband nor success,” whispered her former classmates behind her back at the reunion. Their faces fell when a figure entered the hall”Look, it’s Belyaeva. Alone, as usual.”
The murmur struck Ksenia like a knife to the ribs. She didnt turn. She didnt need to. She already knew who it wasVeronika Odintsova, the queen bee of their school days, whose venom had only grown more potent with time.
The restaurant buzzed like a disturbed hive, ten years later. Music thrummed, drowning out the clink of glasses and hollow compliments. Ksenia took a few steps inside, feeling like an intruder in enemy territory. She knew her arrival wouldnt go unnoticed.
“That dress must be from some discount shop,” chimed in another voiceSvetlana Polyakova, Veronikas ever-loyal lady-in-waiting.
Ksenia trailed a finger along the rim of her mineral water glass. The dress had been custom-made to her own design. But they wouldnt understand. To them, value was measured in flashy labels.
She scanned the room. The same faces, only weatheredsome with receding hairlines, others with crows feet or extra weight. Yet their eyes held the same hungerto prove themselves at someone elses expense.
She felt their stares burning into her back. They wanted a reaction. Wanted her to crumble, to flee to the restroom like she had in tenth grade when theyd poured a fizzy drink down her collar in front of the whole cafeteria.
But Ksenia didnt flinch. She only adjusted the immaculate fold of her sleeve.
She took a sip. The water tasted flat.
Veronika broke the silence first, gliding over in a shimmer of sequins and smugness, her entourage trailing behind like shadows.
“Ksyusha! You came! I thought you might chicken out.” Her smile was flawlessperfect veneers, not a trace of warmth.
“Good evening, Veronika,” Ksenia replied evenly, meeting her gaze.
“Howve you been? Still buried in dusty archives? Sorting through papers no one cares about?”
It wasnt a question. It was a declarationof her insignificance.
“I changed jobs.”
“Really?” Veronikas voice dripped with mock surprise. “Promoted to senior archivist with a hazard pay bonus?”
A hush fell around them. The crowd watched, eager for their little spectacle.
Ksenia almost smiled. She knew what they wantedto hear about her dull, grey life. The mortgage she struggled with alone, the dead-end career. Proof their schoolyard hierarchy had been right all along. That they were the winners, and she was still on the sidelines.
“Something like that,” she said vaguely, feeding them exactly what they craved.
Veronika snorted triumphantly, turning back to her flock as if to say, *See? Told you.*
“I knew it. Nothings changed. No love life, no real career.”
The words rang out, loud enough for the whole room to hear. A verdict, delivered and sealed.
Ksenia lowered her eyes to her glass. Her fingers, wrapped around the stem, didnt tremble. She simply waited.
And thenthe heavy restaurant doors swung open.
A man walked in.
Tall, in a suit worth more than their cars combined. His movements were assured, effortless. He murmured something to the host, then scanned the room.
The chatter died. The music suddenly felt too loud, too crude.
Every womans eyes locked onto him. *Who is he? A politician? A tycoon?*
He frowned, searchingthen found her.
His face softened, and he smiled the same smile Ksenia saw every morning. One meant only for her.
Ignoring the frozen stares and slack jaws, he crossed the room in long strides. Straight to her table.
He touched her shoulder lightly.
“Sorry I kept you. Negotiations ran late.”
Ksenia looked up and smiled backgenuine, warm.
“Its alright, Svyatoslav. I knew youd come.”
He leaned down, kissing hera brief, certain press of lips. A gesture so intimate it silenced the room louder than any words.
Veronikas face went blank with shock. Her mind scrambled to process what didnt fit her worldview.
She recovered first. Of course she attacked.
“Ksyusha, arent you going to introduce us?” Her voice oozed saccharine venom.
“Veronika, this is Svyatoslav,” Ksenia said calmly. “Svyatoslav, my former classmates.”
Someone across the table dropped a fork.
“WaitOrlov? *The* Svyatoslav Orlov?”
Recognition flashed through the room. Phones that had been filming drunken dancing now swiveled toward them.
Svyatoslav Orlov. The rock star whose ballads played on every radio, whose concert tickets sold out in hours.
Veronika paled beneath her makeup. This was a blow she hadnt seen coming.
But surrender wasnt in her nature. Her weapon had never been forceit was poison, disguised as a smile.
“Well, well We were just saying Belyaeva had neither a husband nor success. Turns out you just took the easy way out.”
Her gaze raked over Ksenia.
“Always the quiet one, but you didnt miss your chance. Clever girl.”
A slap masquerading as praise. An accusation of calculation.
Ksenia felt something tighten inside. Shed wanted peace tonight. She tried to deflect.
“Veronika, lets not. Were here to enjoy ourselves.”
A mistake. Her restraint was taken as weakness.
“Whats the harm?” Veronika laughed, addressing the crowd now. “Were just curious! How did our little mouse snag an eagle like this? Whats your secret, Belyaeva? Those thrilling stories about dusty manuscripts?”
Svyatoslav tensed, waiting for Ksenias signal. But she just looked at Veronikanot the woman before her, but the schoolgirl whod thrived on others humiliation.
Her planto leave with her head held highcrumbled to dust.
Veronika, savoring her effect, struck the final blow.
“Or is this a rented date? Rich men for hirewhats the going rate, Ksyusha? Share the contact.”
Her cliques laughter exploded like a gunshot.
And in that moment, Ksenia understood. *Enough.*
Svyatoslav stepped forward, his expression darkening.
“Listen”
But Ksenia stopped him with a hand on his chest. *This is mine.*
She rose slowly, deliberately. No trembling, no rush. Just cold, absolute calm. She looked Veronika dead in the eye.
“You asked what I do.”
Her voice was soft, but the silence carried it. The voice of someone no longer afraid.
“You were almost right. My work did start in archives. There, in old recordings, I found a demoan unknown singer with an extraordinary voice.”
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 building the company that made him a star.”
She paused, letting it sink in. Phones werent just pointed nowthey were recording.
“Every platinum album, every European tour, every endorsementthats my work. I didnt *find* him, Veronika. I built an empire around his talent.”
Veronikas face sagged. Her foundation couldnt hide the blotches of panic.
Ksenia continued, her tone unchanging.
“As for your rented date theory Interesting, coming from you.”
Her gaze shifted to the man behind Veronikaher husband, glossy but visibly uneasy.
“Your familys media agency, *Vector*, correct? Just last week, I declined an offer to acquire it.”
The man jerked like hed been struck.
“My legal teams verdict? Too risky. Unstable management, questionable reputation. Massive debts.”
Now he paled too, staring at his wife in horror.
Ksenia looked back at Veronika.
“So if were talking contracts and contacts Maybe your husband shouldve booked a meeting with me. Though after tonight I doubt Ill have time.”
She picked up her purse.
“Svyatoslav, were leaving.”
She didnt wait for a reply. Turned and walked outback straight, steps even.
Svyatoslav lingered just long enough to cast one last glare at the stunned crowd before following.
They exited under a tombs silence. The show was over. The ending wasnt what the audience had paid for.
In the car, Svyatoslav didnt speak until they reached the underground garage. He cut the engine and turned to her.
“I always knew you had steel in you. But tonightI finally saw it shine.”
Ksenia shook her head, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“Not steel. Just
