The night sky erupted with relentless bursts of fireworks, illuminating the darkness in a kaleidoscope of colors. The display was so magnificent that even a great horned owl, perched upon the branch of a towering spruce, stared with wide, unblinking eyes at the wondrous light show that had invaded its quiet domain. Normally, this secluded countryside estate saw little excitement, and certainly never guests of such high standing.
The proprietor had recently considered closing his doors for good, perhaps even converting the grounds into a dairy farm—after all, milk and butter always fetched a fair price. But then, out of the blue, he received a startlingly lucrative offer: a request to host the wedding of an incredibly wealthy and influential man.
Grant Kovalev had spared no expense for his nuptials. He poured a small fortune into the event; the cost of the city orchestra and the premium catering staff alone was staggering, to say the least of the top-tier entertainers and the professional coordinator. It wasn't entirely surprising, though. A wedding is supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime event—or so every newlywed hopes—and in such cases, one shouldn't pinch pennies. Better to throw a feast for the ages, loud enough to rattle the windows of the neighboring farmhouses and give the local gossips something to talk about for years to come.
Unfortunately, fate had seen fit to make this something other than Grant's first marriage. But that didn't matter; the goal was to catch happiness by the tail, and if it took more than one try to get it right, well, who among us hasn't made a mistake?
For the bride, however—a leggy, striking brunette named Angela—this was her first time at the altar. Yet, for some reason, there was no joy to be found in her expression. Instead, her eyes were clouded with an overwhelming sense of sadness and despair. She tried her best not to show it in front of the guests, but hiding the stray tears that occasionally escaped her lashes was no easy task.
As she swirled in a dance with her husband, she pressed her face tightly against his shoulder. He was still a sturdy man, but the reason for her hesitation was plain to see: Grant was in his seventies, exactly forty-three years older than his new wife. Could such a vibrant young woman truly burn with genuine affection for a man of that age?
It seemed unlikely. Most of the guests whispered that she was after the old man's money, but even they were wrong. The real reason they had walked down the aisle was a secret known only to the couple—a mystery locked behind seven seals.
Finally, the last of the fireworks faded. The coordinator offered a final—likely his hundredth—wish for the couple's happiness, bringing the festivities to a close. As the guests began to drift away, the couple headed toward the honeymoon suite, the finest room the estate had to offer.
"Well, my dear, isn't it time we retired to our quarters?" the lean and still rather handsome old man suggested with tender affection.
The poor girl shuddered at the suggestion, but there was no turning back. Her wifely duties had to be fulfilled. Looking at her husband with the eyes of a wounded, cornered wolf, she bowed her head submissively and followed him.
Her veil dragged pitifully behind her, and the hem of her snow-white dress was stained with mud, but Angela didn't even notice. She was too consumed by grief. This was certainly not the wedding she had ever dreamed of.
Her husband, by contrast, was in high spirits, feeling a sense of absolute victory and power over his bride.
"Now, my dear, you'll never get away from me," the man muttered to himself as he led her along.
When they finally reached the suite, a grandly decorated bed awaited them.
"Go on then, clean yourself up first. Look at you—you're a mess," the old man said with a biting edge. "I realize we're on a farm, but still. You are the wife of Grant Kovalev now; pray act according to my status. I remember you always being so refined and meticulous. I can't imagine what's come over you."
Angela didn't quite understand what he meant by "I remember you being refined," thinking perhaps he was becoming senile. Nevertheless, she obeyed, retreating to the bathroom while the old man waited in bed. But when she emerged in a seductive, expensive negligee and looked at her husband, she nearly fainted. He was sitting at the table, and next to him lay a few peculiar items. He let out a dark laugh, clearly pleased by her shock.
"What's the matter, darling? Didn't expect this? I told you that one day, you'd regret it."
At those words, the poor girl collapsed in a dead faint. Her husband didn't even move from his seat to help her.
***
Twenty years before these momentous events, on a quiet summer night just like this one, two teenagers sat by a steep riverbank. Victor and Angela watched the moon's reflection on the water, holding hands and talking peacefully.
"Oh, it was so hard for me to get out tonight," the tall, pretty girl with long black braids bragged to her friend. "The 'Big Ears' matron is on duty, and she's got insomnia. She spends the whole night prowling the halls checking for secrets. But I tricked her—I stuffed some towels under the covers to look like a body and jumped out the window. She walked into the room right as I was hiding behind the curtain, and she didn't suspect a thing!"
"Well, look at you! We're going to be together forever, right?"
"Of course," the young lady confirmed. "How could it be any other way? We love each other."
"By the way, why do you guys call that teacher 'Big Ears'?"
"Because her ears are huge and she hears everything! That's why!" she replied, laughing heartily.
They talked until dawn, time slipping away unnoticed. Victor felt it was a miracle that fate had given them this chance. If Angela hadn't periodically snuck out of the foster home, they never would have met at this river near the house where Victor lived with his father. His father, a simple engineer at a local plant, had raised Victor alone after his wife died in a car accident, never being able to look at another woman. They promised that as soon as they turned eighteen, they would marry.
Their feelings were strong, pure, and real. At least, Victor was certain of it.
Time passed. Year followed year. Victor finished high school, and Angela aged out of the foster system into independent life. As they had planned, their wedding was on the horizon. Victor worked tirelessly at a small auto repair shop, helping his father. His father had quit the plant, knowing there was no real money there, and used his savings to buy an old garage. Slowly, they expanded the business.
Angela, however, saw no need to burden herself with work. Though she had completed a bookkeeping course, she was in no hurry to apply her skills. Why bother when she had a young man willing to provide every comfort?
The former foster child quickly realized she wanted a beautiful life, preferably at someone else's expense and without much effort. Her childhood love had vanished, replaced by cold calculation.
Victor worked like a busy bee to save for a rental apartment, the wedding, and his fiancée's whims. In return for his devotion, he received only scraps of affection—just enough to keep his hopes alive.
Who knows how long this "idyll" would have lasted if the wedding day hadn't finally arrived. Victor woke up incredibly happy, but a moment later, his world shattered. Angela was nowhere to be found. Instead of a bride in white, a note awaited him in the kitchen:
"I'm sorry, honey. I've fallen for someone else."
Victor was driven mad by grief. He had loved her deeply and trusted her with his life. He rushed to the closet where her things were kept, but as he expected, it was empty. Well, not entirely. Hanging on a lone hanger was her wedding dress, a cruel reminder of his naivety. The fact that her bags were already packed told him she had planned this long ago. To leave on the wedding day itself—that was a wound that would never heal.
Victor had to face the guests alone. From one of the bridesmaids, he learned the truth of where Angela had gone. It turned out her "undying love" was for a pot-bellied businessman ten years her senior. The man's unattractive appearance was more than made up for by his thick wallet. It all became clear to Victor. Angela had decided to trade him for a lifestyle he couldn't yet provide.
The bridesmaid even gave him the address. Victor raced to the rival's mansion, ready to forgive her if she would just come back. But instead of falling to her knees, Angela laughed in his face. She ordered the businessman's security to throw her ex-fiancé out. They did so with such zeal that Victor landed squarely in a muddy puddle outside the gates while Angela mocked him from the balcony. In his despair, he shouted that she would bitterly regret this one day, but by then it would be too long.
More than a decade passed. During that time, Victor's father's business took off, and the small garage grew into a major chain of auto repair centers. As he aged, the father decided to retire, handing the reins of the empire to his son.
If only Angela had known what a catch she had thrown away for a businessman who, only a few months later, kicked her to the curb for a younger model.
The former foster girl had cunning, but she lacked life experience. Since then, her luck had run dry. No more "sugar daddies" crossed her path; instead, she was plagued by deadbeats and drunks. She was forced to remember those bookkeeping skills. She found a job at a local housing authority, which provided her with a room in a decaying boarding house. Angela wanted to weep over the stupidity of betraying her childhood friend for money, but there was no going back. Now, she was the one sitting in the "muddy puddle."
However, she was good with numbers and eventually worked her way up to head accountant. Once she hit the ceiling there, she looked for something more lucrative. She saw an ad for a senior accountant at a large auto repair chain. She decided to take the chance.
That day, Grant Kovalev was preparing to hand the business over to his son, but he stayed late because he wanted to personally vet the new head accountant. The soon-to-be retiree, who had changed significantly and grown a thick beard and mustache, nearly froze when his would-be daughter-in-law walked into the office, swaying her hips in a short skirt. She didn't recognize him at all.
Angela began to tirelessly praise her own abilities, laying out a resume that implied she had worked at the highest levels, though she had nothing but the housing authority on her record.
Grant saw right through her. He had warned his son years ago that she wasn't a good person, but Victor had only laughed, insisting their childhood love was unbreakable. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have stood a chance against the more qualified candidates, but because of their history, she got the job easily.
A week later, she started her new duties. She had only been there a month when, while reviewing the financial records, she spotted a loophole—a way to siphon off massive amounts of money. It took her only fifteen minutes to make a decision. Naturally, it wasn't a decision in favor of an honest life. The temptation to finally live like royalty was too great.
Every day, large sums began moving into a secret account. But her joy was short-lived. Less than a month later, the CEO called her into his office and presented a stack of documents. With one call to the police, she would be facing a long prison sentence, spending the rest of her youth behind bars.
"But you have a chance to fix this," the old man said. "If you marry me, I won't file charges. But I'm keeping the file, just so you don't change your mind. Besides, I need a servant at home—I'm a bit of a miser, and I want to save on staff. You'll work like a slave. Do we have a deal?"
Through her tears, the thief could only whisper:
"Deal..."
***
And so the beauty found herself married, but essentially in slavery to the old man. She couldn't even imagine what he might do to her, which is why she was shaking like a leaf on their wedding night. During their dances, she had noticed that the old man seemed remarkably strong for his age, and even his voice seemed to have grown deeper and more familiar.
But when she came out of the bathroom, she suddenly saw Victor standing there in his groom's tuxedo. On the table lay a professionally crafted mask, a wig, and a fake beard. Victor had ordered the disguise from abroad at great expense to look exactly like his father.
"So, you're awake?" he asked after Angela regained consciousness. "Now, let's talk. Remember our spot by the river? You've changed quite a bit since then, but I've stayed the same. I don't betray my friends or the people I love."
The woman threw herself at her ex-fiancé's feet, begging for forgiveness, but he was unmoved.
"You know, I have no desire to see you near me. So, get lost. I told you I'd lead you to the altar, and I did. Technically you're married to my father, but he doesn't care—he never plans to marry again because he still loves my mother. Let this be a warning to all your future suitors. They'll know exactly who you are: the unfaithful wife of a rich old man. The evidence against you is in a safe place. Remember that if you ever feel like preying on another fool," Victor said, pointing to the door.
Sobbing, the woman returned to her wretched boarding house. The only job left for her there was as a janitor. She had to take it, or she'd be on the street. Fortunately, she still had time to become a decent person, and this time, she clung to that chance with everything she had.
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