“If you touch it again, I’ll break your fingers! Never, do you hear me? Never dare touch my phone again!” Vadim shouted as he yanked the device from his wife’s hands.
Katya’s heart pounded in her chest. For the first time in six months of marriage, she saw her husband consumed with rage.
“What could he possibly have on his phone to make him react like this?” she wondered, curling up in the corner of the couch.
“I wasn’t even doing anything wrong… I just wanted to look at the pictures,” she thought to herself, hugging her knees.
An affair? No, she refused to believe it. They had just gotten married. Everything was perfect—at least, it had been until now. Perhaps he had just read too many online articles about personal space and overreacted? Maybe he was just trying to set a boundary, showing his dominance in their relationship?
As she sat in silence, staring at the flickering flame of a decorative candle, she tried to convince herself that there was a reasonable explanation.
“Darling, I brought you some cherries,” Vadim’s voice broke the silence. He smiled warmly, as if nothing had happened, and placed a small tray of ripe, red berries on the table.
“My friends invited us over tomorrow. You always say I don’t introduce you to anyone, so it’s about time. Shall we go?” He took her hand gently.
“Yes, of course, I’d love to,” Katya replied, forcing a smile. She decided to let the unpleasant moment with the phone go, pretending it had never happened.
Before Vadim had threatened her over his phone, their relationship had been like a fairy tale. And Katya desperately wanted it to stay that way. If only she had known what lay ahead.
The next evening, they arrived at the home of Vadim’s friends.
“I’m Ilya, and this is my wife, Dasha. Come in, dinner’s almost ready! So glad to finally meet you,” the couple greeted them warmly.
Vadim handed over a bottle of wine, and they stepped into the cozy apartment.
“So, Katya, what do you do?” Dasha asked casually as they settled in.
“I work in the film industry. I organize movie shoots,” Katya answered, sipping her wine and taking a piece of blue cheese from the platter.
“Wow, that’s so interesting! Not like your job at the car dealership,” Ilya teased Vadim with a grin. “How many cars have you sold this month?”
“Twelve. I’m on track for a big bonus!” Vadim boasted, raising his glass. “A toast—to our beautiful ladies and my wonderful wife, Ekaterina.”
“When I first saw her in a café, she was the only woman sitting with a book. A woman with a book these days—now that’s a rare sight. I fell for her instantly,” Vadim said, recounting their love story with enthusiasm.
Dasha, smiling, asked, “So why didn’t you have a wedding? Why just a simple registration? No celebration?”
“My mom had surgery recently. She’s still recovering. We’ll celebrate later, maybe on our anniversary. You two will be the first we invite,” Vadim said, squeezing Katya’s hand reassuringly.
“Your friends are wonderful,” Katya told Vadim on their way home. “It was a great evening.”
“I can’t shake the feeling I’ve seen that apartment before,” she added absentmindedly, staring out the car window.
“Probably just déjà vu. Happens to me sometimes too,” Vadim said, smiling, then asked the taxi driver to turn up the music.
A month passed, and spring was in full bloom. Lilacs, cherries, and roses blossomed in the warm May air, and Katya felt like her relationship with Vadim was blossoming too. Ever since the phone incident, Vadim had been the perfect husband—attentive, affectionate, and thoughtful.
But then, Katya stumbled upon something that shattered her reality.
“Ekaterina, I found some more apartments for upcoming film shoots. There are three locations. Take a look and approve one,” Vika, her assistant, said, handing over a file.
“Thanks, I’ll check them soon,” Katya replied without looking up from her computer.
“They’re already in your email,” Vika added before leaving the office.
When Katya finally opened the files, her breath caught in her throat.
“No way… This is the apartment where Vadim and I visited Ilya and Dasha!”
She stared at the pictures in disbelief.
“I knew I had seen that place before… So, it’s in our filming database?”
Maybe they rented it out? Many people leased their apartments for film shoots—it was a good way to make extra money. But something about this felt… off.
Determined to find answers, she chose that apartment for the shoot.
When she arrived to inspect the location, the landlady, Yelena Pavlovna, welcomed her warmly.
“Ekaterina, come in!”
“You won’t believe this, but I was here a month ago,” Katya said, her pulse quickening. “Do you know Ilya and Dasha?”
Yelena Pavlovna frowned. “I don’t know anyone by those names. Maybe previous tenants? This is one of my short-term rental properties.”
Katya’s stomach dropped.
“I see… Could I ask you something? It’s important.”
“Of course, dear. What is it?”
“A month ago, I was here with my husband. The people here claimed to own the apartment. Their photos were on the walls. They introduced themselves as Ilya and Dasha.”
The landlady looked puzzled.
“I don’t recall any tenants matching that description… Let me think. A man did rent the apartment for a single day. Vadim, I believe his name was.”
Katya’s hands went cold.
“Vadim?”
“Yes, tall, well-dressed. Seemed like a nice man.”
Katya forced a polite smile, pretending not to recognize the name. She quickly changed the subject, but inside, she was spiraling.
Her husband had rented an apartment and staged an entire evening with fake friends? Why?
That night, she confronted Vadim casually.
“Let’s meet up with Dasha and Ilya again soon,” she suggested.
“Can’t. They’re on vacation until autumn,” Vadim replied without looking up from the TV.
Katya barely slept. Something was terribly wrong.
The next day, everything unraveled.
At the mall, while they were shopping, a stranger’s voice rang out.
“Seryoga?! Is that you?”
Vadim stiffened.
“It’s definitely you! I recognized you immediately. The hair is different, and the nose too, but… you died!”
Vadim grabbed Katya’s hand and quickened his pace.
“You’re mistaken,” he said coldly.
But the man followed, eyes locked on him. “I was at your funeral! You’re alive, aren’t you, Sergey?”
Katya’s blood turned to ice.
That night, she unlocked Vadim’s phone while he slept. What she found made her skin crawl.
There were messages arranging payments for “Ilya” and “Dasha,” detailing what to say, which questions to ask—an entire script.
Then came the photos. Old ones. Of a man who looked like Vadim—but wasn’t.
The real Sergey.
Katya’s world shattered.
The next day, she confronted Vadim. But before she could say anything, he shoved his phone into her hands.
“Take it. Guard it with your life.” His voice was hoarse, his shirt stained with blood.
“Vadim, you’re hurt!”
“No time… They found me. The men I was hiding from. The ones I stole from.”
Katya’s breath hitched.
“I was undercover… in a criminal syndicate. I faked my death… But now they know I’m alive.”
Katya clutched his hands. “I won’t leave you!”
“You have to. For our baby.”
“What?”
Tears welled in Katya’s eyes. “I’m pregnant, Vadim!”
For a moment, his face softened. Then he collapsed.
But Katya wasn’t going to let him die.
She pulled out her phone and called the one man who could help.
“Dad… I need you.”