Ben had moved in with her then, and they began living together. The apartment was cozy and bright, with large windows that looked out over an old park.
Amanda loved this place.
Her childhood had been spent here, and the walls held the kind of safety you don’t know you’re clinging to until it’s threatened.
Around three in the afternoon, Ben came out of the bedroom dressed and ready to leave.
“So, shall we go?” he asked, grabbing the car keys.
Amanda quickly put on her jacket and grabbed her bag. They went down to the car, and Ben started the engine.
The drive to the supermarket took about fifteen minutes. Light music played on the radio, and Ben tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time while Amanda gazed out at gray streets, pedestrians under umbrellas, and wet sidewalks that shone like polished stone.
She remembered how she and Ben had met, at a friend’s office party.
He’d seemed so charming and attentive, the kind of man who made you feel like you were the only person in the room.
They talked all evening, and Amanda had felt, with that reckless certainty of falling in love, that she’d finally met the right person.
Ben was five years older than her. He worked as a sales manager at a construction company, traveled a lot for site visits, met with clients, and always seemed to know exactly what to say.
Amanda fell quickly and completely.
The first years of their life together were happy. They traveled on vacations, hosted evenings with friends, cooked dinners, and laughed over small things.
Ben was attentive.
He brought flowers for no reason, complimented her, pulled her close in the kitchen when she was stirring sauce.
Amanda felt loved and needed.
But gradually something began to change—at first subtly, like a draft you can’t quite find, and then with increasing clarity. Ben became withdrawn and irritable.
His phone was always with him, and he never left it unattended. When Amanda asked what was wrong, he brushed it off.
“Work problems,” he said.
“Stress.”
And she believed him.
She wanted to believe him.
The supermarket was large and modern, with wide aisles and bright lighting. They went inside, grabbed a cart, and Amanda took out the shopping list she’d made that morning.
Ben walked beside her, occasionally tossing something into the cart—chips, soda—without much thought. Amanda selected items methodically, checking them against the list.
She enjoyed the process: moving slowly through the aisles, picking fresh vegetables, reading labels, letting the ordinary rhythm of it soothe her.
They moved leisurely through the sections.
Amanda picked vegetables, weighed tomatoes, sorted cucumbers.
These were too soft. These were just right.
She put a few cucumbers in a bag, weighed them, and attached a price sticker. In the dairy section, she picked up cottage cheese, kefir, and sour cream.
Ben stood nearby, but he seemed distracted.
He kept checking his phone, looking things up, typing messages.
The screen glowed in his hands, and Amanda watched how quickly his fingers moved.
“Who are you texting?” she asked, trying to sound casual. “Waiting for something?”
“No,” Ben said, slipping the phone into his pocket. “Just a colleague.
He promised to send some documents.”
She nodded and continued selecting groceries.
They reached the bread and pastry section, and the smell of fresh dough filled the air—homey, comforting, the kind of smell that made you believe in happy kitchens.
Amanda picked up a loaf of bread and a few cinnamon rolls. Ben liked them with his tea.
She always tried to make him happy, took care of him, cooked his favorite dishes.
Maybe she tried too hard. Maybe he’d long ago begun taking it for granted.
Suddenly Ben stopped and frowned at his phone screen.
His face tensed, eyebrows knitting together.
“I need to take this call,” he said sharply. “It’s important. I’ll step aside for a minute.”
“All right,” Amanda said.
“I’ll head to the checkout in the meantime.”
Ben nodded and quickly walked toward the exit of the sales floor, holding the phone to his ear.
Amanda watched him go. Something about his behavior seemed strange, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Maybe he was just tired. Maybe there really were problems at work.
She tried to push the unpleasant thoughts away and pushed the cart forward.
They still needed meat and fish.
Amanda approached the refrigerated section, scanning packages. She chose chicken—fresh—and salmon, perfect for baking in the oven with vegetables.
She put the items in the cart and headed toward the checkout.
The line was short, only two people ahead. Amanda stood there, glancing at the magazine and chocolate displays by the register.
Happy family couples smiled from the covers, promising perfect dinner recipes and tips for a lasting marriage.
Amanda smirked, as if any of it were that simple.
An elderly woman with a full cart was ahead of her.
The cashier scanned the items slowly and methodically, and the woman rummaged through her purse, counting coins.
Amanda waited patiently, lost in thoughts she didn’t want to have—about how her life with Ben had changed, about feeling lonely even when he was nearby.
They hadn’t really talked for a long time. They hadn’t laughed together or made plans for the future.
The line moved forward, and soon Amanda was placing her groceries on the conveyor belt. The cashier, a young woman with a tired face, began scanning.
Beep.
Beep. Beep.
The monotone sound was oddly calming. Amanda looked toward the exit, trying to spot Ben, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Probably the conversation was taking longer than expected.
“That’ll be three hundred and twenty dollars,” said the cashier.
Amanda took out her card and tapped it on the terminal.
The transaction went through.
She gathered the bags, placed them in the cart, and headed for the exit. Ben still hadn’t appeared.
The call must really have been important.
Amanda stopped by a stand with promotional brochures, deciding to wait there. She checked her phone.
It had already been about ten minutes since he stepped away.
Usually his work calls didn’t take this long.
Another minute passed, then another.
Amanda began to feel anxious.
Where was he? Had something happened?
She reached for her phone to call him, but at that moment an elderly man in a security guard uniform approached. He was short and stout, around sixty, with gray hair and kind eyes.
His face was weathered and tired, but his gaze was attentive, sharp.
His badge said Anthony.
“You came here with a man, correct?” he asked quietly as he came closer.
Amanda looked at him in surprise.
For some reason, her heart skipped a beat.
Something in the guard’s voice put her on edge.
“Yes,” she said. “With my husband.”
“What happened?”
Anthony hesitated, clearly choosing his words carefully. He looked around to make sure no one was listening, then turned back to her.
Worry was etched on his face, and there was a compassion there that scared her more than anger would have.
He sighed and looked her straight in the eyes.
Amanda saw something like pity in his gaze.
“Come with me, dear,” he said quietly. “It’s about your husband. You’d better see this yourself.”
Amanda’s heart sank.
Something in his sad eyes, in the way he called her dear, made her tense.
A chill ran down her spine, her hands growing damp.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What do you want to show me? Is he all right?”
“Come with me,” Anthony said carefully, taking her by the elbow.
“Not here. Let’s go to the staff area. There we can talk in private.”
Amanda felt flustered.
Her first instinct was to refuse, to find Ben herself and demand answers.
But something in the guard’s demeanor made her trust him—his tone, caring and almost fatherly, full of genuine concern.
“All right,” she said quietly. “I’ll go with you.”
Anthony nodded and led her through the sales floor to a gray door shoppers passed without a second glance.
A sign read STAFF ONLY.
The guard took out a key, unlocked the door, and they entered a narrow corridor with dim lighting. The air smelled musty, a mix of cleaning chemicals and old paint.
The walls were painted pale green, and the floor was covered with worn linoleum.
Amanda’s pulse quickened.
What’s going on?
Why is the guard acting so strangely?
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, each more frightening than the last. Could something have happened to Ben?
Could he have gotten into trouble? Could he have been caught stealing?
No.
That was ridiculous.
Ben would never steal anything.
They walked down the corridor and entered a small room: the security office. Several monitors on a desk displayed feeds from store cameras.
An old sofa sat against the wall next to a table with a thermos and mugs. Charts, instructions, and shift schedules hung on the walls.
Everything was simple and functional.
In the corner stood an old fan, and on the windowsill sat a withered ficus in a plastic pot.
“Please have a seat,” Anthony said, gesturing to a chair by the monitors.
Amanda sat down, keeping her eyes on the guard. Her hands trembled, and she clenched them into fists to hide it.
Her mouth was dry. She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself against the rising panic.
“What happened?” she asked again.
“Please tell me. You’re scaring me.”
Anthony closed the door and walked over to the monitors. He paused, gathering his thoughts, and Amanda saw him sigh deeply, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening.
Then he turned back to her.
“You see, dear,” he began quietly, “I’ve worked here for five years.
In that time, I’ve seen all kinds of things, and I’ve learned to read people pretty well.”
“It comes with experience,” he said. “When you see thousands of people every day, you start noticing details that others miss.”
Amanda listened without interrupting, though inside she felt her chest tightening with impatience and dread.
She wanted him to get to the point quickly.
Yet at the same time, she feared what he might say.
“When you and your husband came into the store,” Anthony continued, “I immediately noticed him. I don’t know why.
Something about his behavior just seemed off.”
“He was too tense, checking his phone too often, glancing around nervously. I’ve had enough experience in life to know when someone is hiding something.”
Amanda felt her stomach turn. She wanted to protest, to tell him he was wrong, that Ben was just tired.
But the words stuck in her throat.
“When he stepped away from you,” Anthony said, “I followed him on the cameras.
Just out of curiosity, you understand. I didn’t want to pry, but something told me I needed to watch.”
“And I saw something that really concerned me.”
He met her eyes, and Amanda felt the ground shift beneath her.
“With a woman,” she whispered.
“Which woman? What are you talking about?”
“I’ll show you,” Anthony said, turning toward the monitors.
“Our cameras record audio in some areas,” he added.
“Not everywhere, of course, but some sections do.”
“It’s a security requirement to capture what’s happening, and right in that corner where they were talking, one of those cameras is installed.”
“I listened to their conversation,” he said, “and I realized I had to show it to you. I couldn’t just stay silent.”
He pressed a few buttons on the control panel, rewinding the footage.
Amanda sat frozen, unable to move. Her mind refused to believe what she was about to see.
This had to be a mistake.
Some misunderstanding.
Ben couldn’t betray her.
He just couldn’t.
“Here,” Anthony said softly, pointing to one of the monitors.
“Look.”
Amanda shifted her gaze to the screen and went cold.
On the monitor, she saw Ben standing in a far corner of the store near shelves of plastic containers and kitchenware. A woman stood next to him—someone Amanda had never seen before.
She was elegant, about forty, wearing an expensive coat and high-heeled shoes. Her hair was styled neatly, her makeup flawless.
She looked confident, businesslike, successful.
Ben stood very close to her—too close for an acquaintance.
They were talking, and from their posture, the way they leaned toward each other, it was clear this wasn’t a chance encounter.
Amanda couldn’t take her eyes off the screen.
Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might leap out of her chest.
Her hands went cold, and her mouth grew even drier.
“I’ll turn the sound on now,” Anthony said quietly. “Get ready, dear. What you’re about to hear will be hard.”
He turned the volume knob, and sound poured from the speakers.
At first there was only the general hum of the store—distant voices, carts, background music.
Then Ben’s voice came through, and Amanda recognized it immediately.
She’d heard this voice every day for seven years.
A voice that had told her, “I love you.”
A voice that had wished her good morning, promised to always be there.
“Everything is going according to plan,” Ben said.
There wasn’t a trace of warmth in his tone. It was cold, businesslike, calculating.
“I’ve already started preparing the documents,” he continued. “Found the right lawyer who agreed to help for a certain amount.”
“And when will it be ready?” the woman asked.
Her voice was low and confident, with a slight rasp.
“We don’t have much time,” she said.
“The apartment has to be transferred to you by the end of the month, or the whole plan will fall apart.”
Amanda’s insides tightened.
Apartment.
Her apartment.
What were they talking about?
“Everything will be done on time,” Ben replied. “The lawyer has already started preparing fake documents about debts.”
“We’ll make it look like Amanda suddenly has large debts to several creditors. There’ll be shell companies, of course, but the papers will look completely legal.”
The woman nodded, a satisfied smile appearing on her face.
“Good job.”
“And then,” Ben continued, “we go to court to declare her incapacitated.”
Amanda couldn’t believe those words were coming from her husband.
“Debt, stress, inability to manage financial obligations,” he said.
“Plus I’ll find a couple of doctors I know who will confirm she has mental health issues.”
“People will sign anything for money,” he added.
“And then they’ll appoint you as her guardian,” the woman concluded. “You’ll get full control over her property.”
“The apartment will be yours, and we can sell it,” she said. “We’ll split the money in half, just as agreed.”
Amanda listened, feeling as if she were trapped in a nightmare.
This couldn’t be happening.
Ben—the man she shared a bed with, cooked breakfasts for, planned a future with—the man she loved.
“She suspects nothing?” the woman asked, looking around.
Ben smirked, and the smirk was full of contempt.
“Amanda,” he said, “she’s too trusting and stupid to suspect anything.
She believes every word I say.”
“The perfect victim.”
“Honestly,” he continued, “I’ve been preparing for this moment for seven years. Seven years. Pretending to be a loving husband, putting up with her nagging, her endless pointless conversations.”
“And now, finally, everything is coming to the climax.”
Amanda felt tears welling in her eyes.
Seven years.
Seven years he pretended.
Seven years of her life were a lie.
“Are you sure the court will side with us?” the woman asked.
“After all, this is serious. Stripping someone of their legal capacity isn’t easy.”
“I have connections,” Ben replied. “The judge handling the case has already received his share.
He’ll issue the right ruling.”
“The main thing is that the documents look convincing,” he said, “and the lawyer I hired specializes in these kinds of cases. He’s handled schemes like this before.”
“He has a whole network of shell companies that supposedly issued loans.”
“How much can we get for the apartment?” the woman asked, and her voice betrayed outright greed.
“At least twelve million,” Ben replied. “The apartment is in a good area, nicely renovated.
Spacious. There will always be buyers for a place like that.”
“Six million each,” he added. “Not a bad sum for seven years of work.
Don’t you agree?”
The woman laughed.
“You’ve always been practical, Ben. That’s exactly what I value about you,” she said. “Not like those sentimental fools who believe in love and fidelity.”
“Love and fidelity,” Ben snorted.
“Fairy tales for the naive,” he said.
“In real life, only money and connections matter. Everything else is empty chatter.”
Amanda sat in front of the monitor as tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn’t wipe them away.
She simply stared at the screen and listened as the man she trusted more than anyone calmly discussed a plan to destroy her.
Not physically—not that kind of crude violence.
He planned to destroy her as a person, strip her of everything she had, and turn her into a helpless victim dependent on him.
“When do we move into the active phase?” the woman asked.
“Next week,” Ben replied.
“The lawyer is already preparing the documents. A few more days and we’ll start filing fake lawsuits from creditors.”
“Amanda will receive subpoenas. Of course she’ll be in shock,” he said.
“I’ll play the role of the caring husband trying to help her.”
“I’ll say I’ll try to negotiate with the creditors, pay off the debts, but naturally nothing will work. The debts will grow. The interest will keep accruing.”
“And then I’ll suggest she sign a power of attorney for managing the finances,” he continued.
“I’ll say it’ll be easier for me to sort everything out that way.”
“And if she refuses to sign?” the woman asked.
“She won’t,” Ben said confidently. “She trusts me.”
“Besides, I’ll gradually start convincing her that she has problems with her head. I’ll say she’s become forgetful, absent-minded, that something’s wrong with her.”
“I’ll start taking her to psychotherapists who will give the necessary diagnosis,” he said.
“In a couple of months, we’ll have enough medical reports to file for her to be declared legally incapacitated.”
Amanda closed her eyes.
All of it was so monstrous, so unbelievable, it felt like fiction—a script for a bad movie.
But this was reality.
Her reality.
“And what then?” the woman asked.
“After we sell the apartment, divorce,” Ben answered simply. “I’ll file for divorce, take my share of the money, and disappear.”
“By then she’ll already be officially declared incapacitated, so she won’t be able to make any claims,” he said. “Some social services will be appointed as her guardian, and let them deal with her.”
“Cruel,” the woman said, with no sympathy in her voice.
It was more a dry statement of fact.
“Life is cruel,” Ben replied. “The ones who survive are the smart and calculating ones.”
“Amanda is too soft, too trusting,” he said. “People like that are ideal victims.
I realized that long ago.”
“Even when we first met, I assessed the situation right away,” he continued. “She was lonely, had no parents, owned an apartment. An ideal option.”
“I deliberately started courting her,” he said.
“Saying pretty words, giving flowers. Women fall for those banalities so easily.”
Amanda opened her eyes and looked at the screen.
Ben stood there in his usual jacket and jeans—the ones she herself had washed and ironed. His face was calm, even satisfied.
He was smiling at that woman, and there was nothing human in that smile.
It was the smile of a predator who had cornered his prey and was already savoring his victory.
“So, in a month, it will all be over?” the woman asked.
“Two months at most,” Ben replied.
“Courts sometimes drag things out, but everything’s under control.”
“The judge, the lawyers, the doctors—they’ve all been paid. The system works flawlessly,” he said.
“The main thing is not to rush and to do everything carefully.”
The woman nodded.
“Good. I’m waiting for results,” she said.
“And remember—no mistakes. If something goes wrong, we could both end up in a very unpleasant situation.”
“Everything will be clean,” Ben assured her. “I’ve thought through every detail.”
“Amanda won’t even understand what happened until it’s too late.”
They talked a bit more about details—documents, sums, deadlines.
Amanda listened as if through cotton.
The words reached her, but she could no longer process them.
Inside, she felt empty.
Seven years of her life had turned out to be a lie.
Anthony turned off the sound and looked at Amanda.
His face was full of compassion and sorrow.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “I know how hard this is, but you had to know. I couldn’t let this happen.”
“I’ve seen too many stories like this,” he continued.
“People lose everything—homes, money, dignity—because of scum like this.”
Amanda remained silent. She couldn’t speak.
Her throat tightened. The words wouldn’t come.
The tears kept flowing, but she barely noticed them.
“You have to act quickly,” Anthony said.
“You have evidence. This recording is logged in our system—timestamped and certified. It’s official material.”
“With this kind of proof, you’ll be able to protect yourself,” he said, “but you need to act now before they start carrying out their plan.”
Amanda looked up at him.
Her eyes were red, her face pale.
“What should I do?” she whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”
Anthony crouched beside her so they were at the same level. He placed a large, warm hand on her shoulder.
“Right now you’re going to record this video on your phone,” he said firmly.
“I’ll help you. This will be your evidence.”
“Then you’ll go back into the store as if nothing happened. Don’t show him that you know anything.
That’s very important,” he said. “He mustn’t suspect a thing.”
“But I can’t,” Amanda whispered. “I can’t stand next to him and pretend everything is fine.
I’m not an actress.”
“You can,” Anthony said. “You’re stronger than you think. And I’ll help you.”
“The most important thing right now is to stay calm,” he continued.
“You’ll go out to him and say you delayed because of some formality—receipt check, anything.”
“He won’t suspect anything, and then when you get home—or even right here in the store—you’ll call the police.”
Amanda nodded.
Her hands were still trembling, but something new began to ignite in her chest.
Not just pain and resentment.
Anger.
Rage.
How dare he?
How dare he do this to her?
She loved him, cared for him, trusted him, and all this time he’d been planning her destruction.
“Help me record it,” she said, her voice growing steadier. “Right now.”
Anthony nodded and took her phone. His fingers, accustomed to working with technology, quickly found the necessary settings.
He pointed the camera at the monitor and turned the recording back on.
Amanda watched her phone screen reflect the surveillance footage.
Ben and that woman were talking again, discussing their vile plan.
Anthony recorded everything—the video, the sound, every word, every detail.
“Done,” he said, handing the phone back to her.
“Now you have evidence.
Save it in several places. Email it to yourself, upload it to the cloud,” he instructed. “So even if something happens to your phone, the recording won’t be lost.”
Amanda nodded and quickly sent the video to her email.
Her hands shook, but she managed.
Then she uploaded the file to cloud storage.
Now the recording was safe.
“What should I do next?” she asked.
“Call the police right now,” Anthony said.
He thought for a moment.
“The woman is still here too. They can detain both of them. The police will have the footage from our cameras and your recording.
The evidence will be airtight.”
Amanda took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding now, but it wasn’t anxiety anymore.
It was determination.
She would not let them destroy her life.
She would not let that bastard take everything she had.
“Okay,” she said firmly. “I’ll call the police right now.”
Anthony nodded approvingly.
“Well done, sweetheart.
You’re doing the right thing, and I’ll be right here. If you need help, I’m always here.”
Amanda took out her phone and dialed. Her fingers no longer trembled.
She was calm, focused.
When the dispatcher answered, she clearly and concisely explained the situation—attempted fraud, planning of a crime, video recordings as evidence, the store’s address, descriptions of the suspects.
The dispatcher promised officers would arrive within ten minutes.
“They’re on their way,” Amanda said, lowering the phone.
“They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“Good,” Anthony said. “Now we need to make sure your husband and that woman don’t leave.”
“I’ll go into the store and keep an eye on them. If they try to leave, I’ll delay them under some pretext,” he said.
“You stay here. Calm down.”
“When the police arrive, we’ll go out together.”
Anthony patted her shoulder and left the room.
She was alone.
She sat down on the chair and closed her eyes. A storm of emotions raged inside her—pain, anger, resentment, disappointment.
Seven years she had been deceived.
Seven years she had lived with a man who was, in truth, her enemy.
But now was not the time for tears.
Now was the time to act.
She wiped her eyes and straightened her back.
She was not a victim.
She would not let them turn her into one.
She had evidence.
She had support.
And she would fight.
Amanda watched the monitors.
Somewhere among ordinary shoppers, there was a man she considered her husband—a man who planned to destroy her life.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm the tremble in her hands.
She needed to pull herself together.
She couldn’t show weakness.
Not now.
She stood and approached the small mirror on the wall. Her face was pale, her eyes red.
She splashed cold water from the sink and dabbed her face with a towel.
She needed to look normal.
Ben mustn’t suspect anything.
Five minutes passed.
Amanda glanced at the monitors again.
Anthony stood by the exit, watching the sales floor carefully.
Ben appeared on one of the feeds, walking between aisles, clearly looking for her.
His face showed irritation, the kind a man wears when he’s been inconvenienced.
That woman was visible on another screen, standing by the magazine rack, scrolling on her phone.
Amanda clenched her fists.
How calm they were.
How confident.
They didn’t even suspect their plan had been uncovered.
Her phone rang.
Amanda flinched. The screen showed Ben.
She hesitated for a second, then answered, forcing her voice into something normal.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” Ben’s voice was annoyed.
“I’ve been looking for you for ten minutes. Did you get lost in the store?”
“Sorry,” Amanda said, surprised at how calm she sounded. “The security guard held me up.”
“Some problem with the receipt.
We’re sorting it out now.”
“The receipt?” Ben repeated. “What kind of problem?”
“Some system error,” Amanda lied. “They say an item was scanned twice.
They’re checking it. I’ll be free soon.”
“All right,” Ben grumbled. “I’ll wait for you at the exit.
Just hurry. I’ve got things to do today.”
Things.
Probably a meeting with the lawyer preparing fake documents, or with a doctor who had to issue a bogus diagnosis.
“All right,” Amanda said. “I’ll be there soon.”
She hung up and looked at the monitors again.
Ben headed toward the exit, hands in his jacket pockets—an ordinary man waiting for his wife after shopping.
No one passing by could imagine what he was.
A few more minutes passed.
Then Amanda heard sirens outside.
The police.
They had arrived.
Her heart began to race.
Everything would be decided now.
Anthony entered the room.
“The police are here,” he said.
“I’ll bring them in. Are you ready?”
Ready.
A minute later two police officers entered—a middle-aged man in uniform and a young female officer.
Their faces were serious, professional.
“Good afternoon,” the senior officer said. “Did you call the police?
Report a fraud attempt?”
“Yes,” Amanda said. Her voice trembled despite her efforts. “That’s me.”
“I have evidence,” she added.
“My husband—he plans to steal my apartment, create fake debts, declare me incompetent.”
The officers exchanged glances.
“Do you have proof of these claims?” the female officer asked.
“Yes,” Amanda said, pulling out her phone. “I have a video. He spoke with his accomplice right here in the store.
The cameras recorded everything.”
She showed them the recording.
They watched and listened carefully, concern spreading across their faces.
When the recording ended, the senior officer nodded.
“This is serious,” he said. “Planning fraud, document forgery—possibly corruption if they really bribed a judge.”
“Where are your husband and that woman now?”
“On the sales floor,” Anthony replied. “I’m watching them through the cameras.
The man is waiting by the exit. The woman is in the magazine section.”
“All right,” the officer said. “We’ll detain them now to clarify the circumstances.”
“You’ll need to give a statement at the station,” he added, “but first we’ll handle things here.”
Everything inside her tightened into a hard knot.
Soon she would see Ben.
She would see his face when he realized everything had been exposed.
Part of her feared that encounter, but another part—hot with anger—wanted it.
Wanted to watch his confidence crumble.
The officers left the room, and Amanda followed.
Anthony walked beside her, quietly steadying.
“Everything will be fine, sweetheart,” he said.
“You’re doing the right thing.”
They stepped back onto the sales floor.
Amanda saw Ben near the exit, looking at his phone. His posture was normal, his expression ordinary.
Just a man waiting.
No passing shopper could imagine who he really was.
The officers walked toward him.
Amanda followed behind, her legs suddenly weak.
Ben looked up, noticed the approaching officers, and frowned.
Then his gaze fell on Amanda, and confusion flickered in his eyes.
“Ben Vulkoff?” the senior officer asked.
“Yes,” Ben replied wearily. “That’s me.
What’s this about?”
“You need to come with us for questioning,” the officer said. “There is information about planned fraud.”
Ben’s face changed—confusion, then anxiety.
He looked at Amanda with disbelief and the beginnings of fear.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded, trying to sound outraged. “What fraud?
I don’t understand.”
“We’ll explain everything at the station,” the officer said firmly. “For now, please come with us.”
Ben turned to Amanda, his voice dropping into something almost pleading.
“What’s happening?” he asked. “Can you explain this nonsense?”
Amanda stared at him, a storm boiling inside her—pain, anger, disappointment.
This was the man who had shared her bed for seven years, spoken words of love for seven years, and now stood before her pretending he didn’t understand.
“I know everything, Ben,” she said quietly, but firmly.
“I know about your plan—the fake debts, how you wanted to declare me incompetent and take the apartment.”
Ben’s face turned pale.
For a brief moment raw fear flashed in his eyes, but he tried to pull himself together.
“What are you talking about?” he protested. “Debts? Incompetence?
Amanda, are you crazy?”
“I have a recording of your conversation,” Amanda said, her voice growing stronger. “Where you discussed every detail with that woman.”
“The store cameras recorded everything, including audio.”
Ben froze.
The color drained from his face.
He opened his mouth, but no words came.
His eyes showed complete shock—the realization that everything had collapsed.
“This must be a misunderstanding,” he muttered weakly. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“I’ve understood perfectly,” Amanda cut him off.
“Seven years, Ben. Seven years you’ve been deceiving me.”
“Pretending to be a loving husband while secretly waiting for the moment you could take everything I have.”
Meanwhile, the female officer headed toward the magazine section, where the elegant woman stood.
Amanda watched as the officer approached.
The woman looked up in surprise and began to protest indignantly, but the officer remained firm.
Within a minute, both suspects were being guided toward the exit.
Ben watched the approaching woman, panic evident in his eyes.
Everything was falling apart.
His carefully constructed plan was crumbling in front of dozens of shoppers who stared with open curiosity.
The woman looked at him in confusion.
“What’s happening?” she whispered.
“Shut up,” Ben hissed back.
But it was already too late.
The senior officer addressed them.
“We have a video recording of your conversation in which you discuss a fraud scheme,” he said. “You are both being detained for questioning.”
“You have the right to remain silent,” he continued.
“Anything you say can be used against you.”
The elegant woman tried to protest.
“This is absurd,” she said. “I don’t understand what this is about. I was just shopping.”
“In that case, you can explain everything at the station,” the officer replied calmly.
“But we have a recording of your conversation with this man in which you discuss a plan to take someone else’s property.”
The woman turned to Ben, fury in her eyes.
“You idiot,” she whispered. “You said it would be clean.”
“Shut up!” Ben shouted, and the mask of the charming man finally fell away.
Now before Amanda stood a different person—angry, terrified, cornered.
The police escorted both of them to the exit.
Shoppers stepped aside, watching.
Someone was even recording on their phone.
Amanda followed, feeling a strange emptiness.
She had thought she would feel relief, satisfaction.
Instead, she felt only fatigue, and a sorrow that seemed endless.
Outside, police cars waited with flashing lights.
Ben and the woman were placed in separate vehicles.
Before getting in, Ben turned and looked at Amanda. His eyes held a mix of anger and something almost like pleading.
“Amanda,” he called out.
“Wait—we can talk this through. It’s not what you think.”
Amanda stopped a few steps away.
She looked into his eyes—the eyes she’d fallen for seven years ago, which had once seemed so honest.
“No, Ben,” she said quietly. “This is exactly what I think.”
“And even worse, you didn’t just betray me.
You stole seven years of my life.”
“You made me believe in something that never existed. I loved you, and you just used me.”
“That’s not true,” he began.
But the officer stopped him, gentle and firm, guiding him into the car.
Amanda watched the police cars drive away.
Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.
Anthony.
“Well done, sweetheart,” he said warmly. “You did it.
It wasn’t easy, but you found the strength.”
“Thank you,” Amanda whispered, tears welling again. “If it weren’t for you, I would have never found out. He would have carried out his plan.”
“I just did what I had to do,” Anthony replied.
“You can’t stand by when injustice is happening.”
“You need to be strong. There’s still a lot ahead—statements, court, divorce,” he said. “But you can handle it.
I believe in you.”
Yes, difficulties lay ahead.
But the worst was behind her.
Now she knew the truth.
Bitter as it was, it was the truth.
And with this truth, she could move forward.
“You’ll need to go to the station,” the young officer said, approaching. “Give a full statement. Sign the report.”
“We can provide a car for you.”
“Thank you,” Amanda said.
“I’ll go.”
She turned to Anthony and, unexpectedly, hugged him.
The old man was slightly taken aback, but he returned the embrace, patting her back.
“Thank you,” she said again. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he replied. “If you ever need anything, I’m here.
Come by and tell me how things are going.”
Amanda nodded and walked to the police car.
She sat in the back seat as it drove off and looked out the window at the passing streets—houses, people, life continuing as if nothing had happened.
Life went on.
Her life went on.
And now, with the lies exposed, she could begin rebuilding it on an honest foundation—without deceit, without betrayal.
At the police station she spent several hours giving detailed testimony, telling everything she knew about Ben and their life together, and handing over the video she had recorded in the store.
Experts confirmed its authenticity.
Original store camera recordings were seized as evidence.
The investigator, a woman in her forties with a tired but attentive face, listened and said:
“We have sufficient grounds to open a criminal case—planning fraud on a large scale, possible document forgery if they had already begun creating fake debts.”
“And if the information about bribing a judge is confirmed, that’s a separate corruption case. Your husband and his accomplice are in serious trouble.”
“What will happen now?” Amanda asked.
“They will be held in custody until trial,” the investigator explained, “unless the judge considers releasing them under a travel restriction.”
“But given the seriousness of the charges and the risk of flight, they will most likely remain in jail. You will need to attend questioning as required and then testify in court.”
“I also recommend filing for divorce as soon as possible and securing your property.”
“I will,” Amanda said.
When she left the station, it was already dark.
The sky was overcast, and a light drizzle fell.
Amanda stood on the steps, looking at illuminated shop windows, passing cars, people hurrying along their errands.
Each of them had their own life—their own problems, joys, and sorrows.
And she had her life, a life that now needed to be pieced back together.
She called a taxi.
Going home felt strange—home where everything reminded her of Ben, of their life together, which had turned out to be a lie.
But it was her home.
And she would not allow anyone to take it from her.
Amanda arrived home late in the evening. The apartment greeted her with silence and darkness.
She turned on the light and looked around. Everything was in its place.
The sofa where she and Ben used to watch movies.
The kitchen table where they had breakfast.
The photos on the shelves capturing moments of their supposedly happy life.
Every object reminded her of a past that had turned out to be an illusion.
She went into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, and closed her eyes.
Exhaustion hit her with overwhelming force—physical and emotional.
She felt drained, empty.
Yet at the same time something new was stirring inside her.
Relief.
A strange, contradictory relief that the truth had finally been revealed.
There was no longer any need to guess why Ben had become colder, why he hid his phone, why he came home late.
Now she had answers.
The next day, Amanda went to a lawyer.
She had found an experienced family law specialist online—Karolina, a woman in her fifties with a serious face and an attentive gaze.
The office smelled of coffee and paper, and rows of legal reference books lined the shelves.
“Tell me everything from the beginning,” Karolina said, opening her notebook.
Amanda recounted it all—meeting Ben, seven years of life together, the day in the store, the security footage, the arrest.
Karolina listened attentively, occasionally taking notes.
“You did absolutely the right thing,” the lawyer said when Amanda finished. “You have solid evidence—video clearly documenting the crime. That’s a very strong position.”
“Now we need to act quickly,” she continued.
“First, we file for divorce immediately. Second, we secure your property.”
“We impose a restriction on any transactions involving the apartment. Third, if they have already started creating fake debts, we need to challenge all those documents.”
“But how can I know if they’ve managed to file anything?” Amanda asked.
“We’ll request an extract from the registry,” Karolina explained.
“Check for any encumbrances on your property.”
“We’ll also request a report from the credit bureau to see if any loans have been taken out in your name. If we find anything, we’ll contest it as fraudulent activity.”
Her head spun from the abundance of legal terms and procedures, but Karolina explained patiently, step by step.
“How long will all this take?” Amanda asked.
“The divorce will take a few months,” Karolina replied. “The criminal case against your husband and his accomplice could drag on longer—up to a year or more.”
“But the important thing is your property will be protected.
They won’t be able to do anything.”
In the following days Amanda lived as if in a parallel world.
During the day she went to offices, consulted a notary, checked the registry, met with lawyers, attended police interviews.
In the evenings she returned home and went through routines mechanically—cooking dinner, cleaning, turning on the TV—seeing and hearing almost nothing.
Her thoughts returned again and again to Ben.
To those seven years she had considered happy.
Her friend Chloe, hearing what happened, rushed over that same evening with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates.
“Amanda, I can’t believe it,” Chloe said, sitting at the kitchen table. “Ben seemed so normal. I never would have thought he was capable of this.”
“I didn’t think so either,” Amanda replied quietly.
“Seven years, Chloe. Seven years he played a role, and I didn’t notice anything.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Chloe said, taking her hand. “It’s not your fault.
He’s a professional con man. He knows how to deceive.”
“But I should have noticed something,” Amanda whispered. “Some signs.
Some oddities. There must have been some.”
“It’s always easy to see the signs in hindsight,” Chloe said. “You loved him.
You trusted him. That’s normal.”
“And he took advantage of your trust. He’s a monster, not you.”
They sat in the kitchen until late, drinking wine and reminiscing.
Chloe told funny stories, trying to cheer Amanda up, and sometimes she succeeded.
Amanda caught herself laughing, and it felt strange—how could she laugh when there was such emptiness inside her?
Two weeks passed.
Amanda filed for divorce.
Ben was in custody but had the right to send his representative to court.
Karolina warned Amanda he might try to drag out the process, file counterclaims, argue property division.
“Let them try,” Karolina said.
“We have evidence of his fraudulent intentions. The court will take that into account.”
The criminal investigation progressed.
It turned out Ben and his accomplice, Mia Miller, had already started executing their plan.
Contracts with fake lending organizations—supposedly issuing large loans—were found.
The documents were skillfully forged, signatures faked.
They also found the lawyer who prepared the papers.
He was arrested and gave testimony in exchange for a reduced sentence.
“It turns out this isn’t their first scam,” the investigator said during one interview. “Miller has already carried out similar schemes.”
“She has a whole network of associates—fake lenders, corrupt doctors, and bribable officials.
Your husband met her through mutual acquaintances and got drawn into this scheme.”
“So,” Amanda said, voice tight, “he married me on purpose? He planned it from the very beginning?”
The investigator remained silent for a beat, then nodded.
“Judging by Miller’s testimony—she started cooperating—yes. They chose you as a target even before meeting you.”
“A single woman with her own apartment in a good neighborhood,” she continued.
“Ben needed to gain your trust, marry you, and wait for the right moment.”
“Seven years is a long time, but for them it was an investment. They planned to get an apartment worth over ten million.”
Amanda listened, feeling anger rise inside her—cold, clear anger.
Her life had been a business project to them.
An investment.
Seven years of pretense for money.
“But there’s some good news,” the investigator added. “We found the judge they supposedly bribed.”
“He denies receiving any bribe, and that hasn’t been proven yet.
Maybe they were just bragging. But the fact of planning fraud and forging documents is ironclad.”
“Both of them are facing real jail time.”
Months passed.
Amanda gradually returned to life.
She went back to work. She was an accountant at a small company, and colleagues who knew her situation showed sympathy and support.
Work helped her focus on something else.
Numbers, reports, documents—all requiring concentration and leaving less room for spiraling thoughts.
In the evenings she began going through Ben’s things—clothes, books, personal items.
Everything had to be removed from the apartment.
Amanda packed it into boxes, and each item brought back memories.
This shirt he wore on their anniversary.
This book they read aloud together.
Every object tied to a moment from their life together—a life that had turned out to be fake.
It was especially hard to sort through photographs.
Pictures of them at the beach, in the mountains, at friends’ birthdays.
In all the photos they looked happy.
Ben hugging her, smiling at the camera.
And in those smiles and hugs, there wasn’t a trace of truth.
Just a performance.
A role he had mastered.
Amanda gathered the photographs and put them in a box on a high shelf in the closet.
She didn’t throw them away.
She couldn’t.
But she didn’t want to look at them anymore.
Four months after that day in the store, the divorce hearing took place.
Ben was brought to court from prison.
Amanda saw him for the first time since his arrest.
He had changed.
Thinner, gaunt, unshaven.
His clothes were wrinkled, prison-issued.
When their eyes met, Ben tried to smile, but it was pathetic, forced.
“Amanda,” he called as they were led into the courtroom.
“Can I talk to you?”
Karolina touched Amanda’s hand warningly, but Amanda nodded.
“All right,” she said. “Speak.”
Ben stepped closer. The guards watched him wearily.
“Amanda, I know you hate me,” he began quietly, “and you have every reason to.”
“But I want you to know—not everything was a lie.
In the first years, I really did care about you. You’re good. You were a good wife.”
“But not good enough not to rob me,” Amanda said coldly.
Ben lowered his eyes.
“I got involved in this mess out of foolishness,” he said.
“Mia—she convinced me. Said it was easy money. Nothing bad would happen.”
“I didn’t think it would turn out like this.”
“You spent seven years preparing to steal my apartment,” Amanda said, voice firm.
“Seven years pretending, and now you want to call it foolishness.”
“No, Ben. It was your choice, and now you bear the responsibility.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said, tears audible in his voice. “Please forgive me.
I know I don’t deserve forgiveness, but—”
“No,” Amanda cut him off. “You don’t deserve it, and I won’t forgive.”
“You stole seven years of my life,” she said. “Made me believe in something that never existed, and the only thing I regret is not seeing through you sooner.”
A guard touched Ben’s shoulder.
“Please take your seat.”
Ben obediently went to the bench.
Amanda watched his back and felt nothing.
Not love.
Not hatred.
Only fatigue, and a desire to be done.
The hearing was brief.
Ben did not contest the divorce and made no claims.
His lawyer was passive.
Half an hour later, the judge announced the decision.
The marriage was dissolved.
All property remained with Amanda, since the apartment had been hers before the marriage and the evidence of Ben’s fraudulent intentions excluded any claims he might have made.
“Thank you,” Amanda whispered to Karolina as they left.
“You’re welcome,” Karolina said with a small smile. “You did very well. You carried yourself with dignity.”
Amanda stepped out of the courthouse and took a deep breath.
Spring.
The sun shone brightly.
The first leaves budded on the trees, and the air smelled of renewal.
She was free.
Officially, legally free from the person who had deceived her for so many years.
The criminal trial against Ben and Mia Miller took place six months later.
Amanda attended as a witness and victim, giving testimony, answering questions from the prosecutor and attorneys, explaining how everything had happened and how the elderly security guard had saved her from disaster.
The court was strict.
The evidence was irrefutable—security footage, witness statements, forged documents discovered during the investigation.
Ben was sentenced to six years in prison.
Mia Miller received seven years, as it was revealed she had organized the scheme and carried out similar scams before.
When Amanda left the courtroom after the verdict, she felt the weight that had hung on her shoulders for months finally lift.
Justice had been served.
The people who tried to ruin her life had been punished.
That same evening, Amanda went to the supermarket where it had all begun.
She found Anthony at his usual post by the entrance.
The old man was delighted to see her.
“Child,” he exclaimed.
“I’m so glad to see you. How are you? How was the trial?”
“It’s over,” Amanda said, and a genuine smile appeared on her face for the first time in a long while.
“He was sentenced to six years.”
“I’m free.”
Anthony hugged her fatherly.
“Well done.
I knew you could handle it. You’re a strong woman.”
“Thanks to you,” Amanda said. “If it weren’t for you, I can’t even imagine what would have happened to me.”
“I just did what I had to do,” Anthony repeated, the same words he’d said that day.
“But the important thing is for you to keep moving forward—to live.
You’re still young. Your whole life is ahead of you.”
She pulled a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers from her bag.
“These are for you,” she said. “A token of my gratitude.
I know no gift could ever express what I feel.”
“Thank you, child,” Anthony said, accepting the gifts, tears glistening in his eyes.
“You must come by again,” he added. “Tell me how life is going.”
“I will,” Amanda promised.
Life gradually settled.
Amanda renovated her apartment, changed the wallpaper, bought new furniture.
She wanted to erase all traces of the past and create something new—something that belonged only to her.
The apartment transformed—brighter, cozier.
New paintings on the walls, new curtains, new pillows.
Everything fresh and clean, less haunted by memory.
At work she was promoted to chief accountant.
Amanda accepted.
The job took more of her time, and that was good.
Less time left for sad thoughts.
Her friend Chloe introduced her to her cousin Thomas—a civil engineer, tall and calm, with kind eyes.
They met at a café, had coffee, and talked.
Thomas turned out to be an engaging conversationalist, telling stories about his work—construction sites, how buildings rise from the ground.
Amanda listened, realizing she hadn’t had such simple, lighthearted conversations in a long time.
They started dating slowly—not often, once a week, sometimes less.
They went to movies and cafés, walked in the park.
Thomas didn’t rush her.
He didn’t pressure.
He understood Amanda had been through a lot and needed time.
She was grateful for his patience.
A year passed since that day in the supermarket.
A year that had changed her entire life.
Amanda sat on the balcony of her renovated apartment, drinking tea and watching the sunset.
The sky was pink, clouds drifting and changing shape. Below, the city buzzed—cars, voices, life.
She thought about what had happened, how easily everything could be lost, how important it was to trust intuition and heed warning signs.
But she also thought about the good people in the world.
People like Anthony, who didn’t walk past, who risked getting involved.
People like Chloe, who showed up when she needed someone.
People like Thomas, who waited patiently while she healed.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Thomas.
“How about a walk tomorrow?
They’re predicting good weather.”
Amanda smiled and typed back.
She finished her tea, stood, and stepped inside.
Her fortress.
Her beginning.
Ahead lay a whole life—a life she would build herself, on her own terms, with open eyes and a vigilant heart.
She had walked through the fire of betrayal and emerged stronger.
And now, looking back at that day in the supermarket, she understood it wasn’t the end.
It was the beginning.
The beginning of her true life.
