A guy from my old job gave me a lottery ticket.
I rubbed it out.
Profit – ten thousand leva.
Later he came by and asked me if I had scrubbed it, and I said "no."
He left.
My heart was beating like crazy.
I decided to say it wasn't profitable when he came again.
I turned it over to read how it was redeemed, and I saw...
His name.
Not with a pen, not scratched, but printed in small letters, in places I've never looked. Down to the machine code, down to the series, down to the small text that everyone misses.
"Owner: Martin."
That was the name of the person who gave it to me.
At first I just stared.
Then I turned pale because something in my body understood before my mind: this wasn't a gift. This was a clue. This was a hook.
And if I get hooked, I won't get off easily.
I sat on the edge of the bed and held the ticket tightly so as not to tear it. As if if I tore it up, everything would go back to the way it was.
But it was no longer what it was.
Ten thousand leva is not a lifetime's wealth, but for someone like me... it was air. It was salvation. It was three overdue installments on the home loan that haunted me like a shadow.
They were something else too.
Temptation.
And the worst temptation is the one that comes at a moment when you've already decided that there's no way out.
My phone rang.
I looked at the screen and my heart skipped a beat again.
Martin.
I didn't pick up.
Let it ring.
Let him wonder.
Let him not know.
A simple, dangerous thought popped into my head: "I'll say it's not profitable. I'll take it back. I'll cash it in. And then... then we'll see."
But "later" rarely comes peacefully.
"After" comes with consequences.
I let the phone go silent on its own. The silence that followed hit me harder than the ringing.
I looked again at the small letters on the back.
"Redemption only against the holder's ID."
It was as if someone had closed the door in my face.
Ten thousand leva was one step away, but that step wasn't mine.
At that moment, I realized something I didn't like: the lie wouldn't be just one.
The lie will have to become a whole system.
And the system will swallow me up.
I looked at my wallet, at my ID card, at the photo of me smiling like a fearless person.
I didn't feel that way now.
At that moment, the key to the front door was heard.
I couldn't hide anything fast enough.
Daniela entered.
The woman I lived with.
The woman with whom I had co-signed the home loan.
The woman who had been coming home quieter and later lately.
She put down her bag, took off her shoes, and looked at me with that look that doesn't ask, but checks.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing."
She approached, saw the ticket in my hand, and her eyes narrowed slightly.
"What is this ticket?"
I looked at her and felt the words stick.
If I tell her the truth, the questions will start.
And if the questions start, more truths may emerge that I'm not ready to say.
"A gift from a guy from my old job."
"Did you rub it?"
Pause.
Long pause.
"No."
I lied a second time.
And this time the lie was easier.
That was the scariest thing.
Daniela nodded as if she didn't care and turned towards the kitchen.
"I'll make some tea."
Her tone was even.
Too flat.
It was as if she was guarding something too.
And then a thought struck me: maybe I wasn't the only one who had a winning ticket.
Maybe she had her ticket too... but of a different kind.
I sat on the bed and looked at her back while she arranged the glasses.
And I said to myself a key phrase that would haunt me for days:
Don't ask me.
Don't ask me, because if you ask me, we'll break up.
## Chapter Two: The Man Who Came Back
The next day Martin came.
He didn't call in advance, he didn't write.
He appeared in front of the entrance to the building where I worked, as if he had a right to be there.
He was wearing the same jacket he wore in the old office, and with the same smile that always made me wonder if he was joking or measuring me.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Did you rub it?"
I said to myself: calm down. Say "unprofitable". Say "there's nothing".
He didn't give me time.
"Listen..." he leaned slightly towards me and lowered his voice. "I couldn't sleep last night."
"Why?"
He smiled strangely.
"Sometimes you just think of things, don't you?"
"For what things?"
Martin glanced over my face, as if searching for a crack.
"For the ticket."
My palms got sweaty.
"I haven't scrubbed it."
"Don't lie."
That hit me.
Suddenly it wasn't a conversation. It was an interrogation.
"Don't lie," he repeated, more quietly but more sharply. "I know you. If you hadn't brushed it off, you would have forgotten about it. And you... you're tense."
"I'm having problems."
"We all have."
He stood up, but stayed close.
"I'm going to tell you something, and you're going to answer me honestly."
At that moment, I felt the world shrink to the distance between the two of us.
"The ticket is in my name," he said, as if it were obvious. "Do you know that?"
I didn't answer.
"You know it," he nodded to himself. "That's why you're lying."
And then he added:
"And do you know anything else?"
"What?"
He came closer one more time and said:
"It's not just a ticket."
"What does that mean?"
Martin looked around and whispered:
"The ticket is from a package. From special tickets."
"What specials?"
"The ones that aren't sold to everyone."
It seemed to me that the air had disappeared.
"Where did you get them?"
His eyes sparkled.
"Don't ask me."
Here's the phrase again, but this time from his mouth.
"Listen," he continued. "There's a profit. Right?"
I didn't answer.
He smiled like a man who already knew.
"Okay. And now we're going to do this: we're going to cash it in. Together."
"Together?"
"Yes. I'll show a document, you take the money and... we'll split it."
"Why me?"
Martin looked at me carefully.
"Because if I cash it in, someone will find out. And if you… it won't connect right away."
"Who will understand?"
He bit his lip.
"There are people who don't like to lose."
"Martin… where is the ticket from?"
He smiled, but his smile was empty.
"I told you. Don't ask me."
And then I realized the worst: he wanted to make me the face of something I didn't understand.
Make me a shield.
And if the shield breaks... they hit it first.
"I don't have a ticket," I said.
Martin laughed softly.
"You have."
"No."
"You have."
A moment.
"Be careful," he said. "I gave it to you. But I might as well not have given it to you."
"What does that mean?"
He leaned towards me and whispered:
"So I gave you a chance. Now you're going to give me a chance."
And left.
All I was left with was his footsteps and the feeling that I had found myself in a story that I did not choose.
When I got home in the evening, Daniela wasn't home.
The clock was showing late.
I called.
Didn't pick up.
I wrote a message.
He didn't answer.
In the kitchen, the kettle was empty, the glasses were clean.
But there was something on the table.
Envelope.
No name.
Just mine.
With its mouth open on the paper, it seemed to be waiting for me to stick my hand inside.
I opened it.
There was a printout inside.
Bank statement.
And a date.
And a sum.
An amount that did not belong to our accounts.
An amount that was transferred to someone else's account.
From Daniela.
I read it three times until my brain stopped trying to deny it.
Then I heard the key.
She entered.
And when he saw me with the leaf in my hand, he turned pale.
Exactly.
He turned pale.
“Where have you been?” my voice wasn’t high-pitched, but it was foreign.
Daniela closed the door and didn't answer immediately.
"Answer."
She swallowed.
"I had to... fix something."
"What?"
She looked up at me and whispered:
"Don't ask me."
The same phrase.
The same poison.
And then I realized: the ticket wasn't the only secret.
He was just the beginning.
## Chapter Three: The Credit That Had Us by the Throat
In the morning I went to the bank.
I didn't tell Daniela.
I didn't ask.
I didn't want to hear "don't ask me" again.
There was only one thing going through my mind: the overdue payments. The calls. The letters. The threats of legal action that sound like a foreign language until they knock on your door.
I sat down across from the employee and tried to look calm.
She was looking at the screen and glancing at me as if she had seen me before.
"You are overdue."
"I know."
"If you don't pay by the end of the month..."
"I know."
"It could lead to a lawsuit."
"I know."
The word “court” hit me harder than I expected.
Because I already felt that the court wouldn't be just about the loan.
There was a ticket.
There was Martin.
There was a bank statement.
There was Daniela.
And in the middle stood me, the person who is trying to make ends meet and doesn't notice how webs are being woven around him.
When I went out, my phone rang.
My mother.
"Son, how are you?"
Her voice was warm, but there was worry behind it.
"I'm fine."
"Don't tell me 'okay.' You always say 'okay' when you're not."
I closed my eyes.
"I have work to do."
"Again with the loan?"
I was silent.
"We'll help you," she said quickly. "Your father..."
"No," I interrupted her. "No. There isn't."
"Then how?"
I wanted to tell her: "With a ticket."
I wanted to tell her, "I have a chance."
But a chance that is tied to a lie is not a chance.
This is a trap.
"I'll be fine."
"Son..."
"I have to close."
I closed.
Then I opened it and looked at the screen as if it would give me a solution.
The screen does not provide solutions.
It just shows how alone you can be while talking to everyone.
In the evening, while Daniela was taking a bath, I opened her bag.
I had never done it before.
I told myself I was just doing it to calm myself down.
Just to find an explanation for the bank statement.
There was a notebook inside.
Not work. Personal.
I opened it.
The first page was blank.
The second is a list.
Names.
Sums.
Dates.
It's like a debt diary.
And among the names there was one I didn't expect to see.
Stefan.
I didn't know him.
But the name was written with a darker emphasis. As if it were the most important thing.
Under it: "return by Friday."
Friday was in two days.
Under that: "if not - he will talk to a lawyer."
I closed the notebook slowly.
Daniela came out of the bathroom with wet hair and smiled as if everything was normal.
"How was your day?"
"Okay," I said.
Lying was already a habit.
She sat down next to me.
"Do we have a chance to fix the credit?"
I looked at her.
There was a fear in her eyes that wasn't about the loan.
It was about something else.
"We'll be fine," I said.
"How?"
And then I realized that this was the moment.
To tell the truth about the ticket.
Or get even more stuck.
“I have an idea,” I said quietly.
"What?"
"An opportunity arose."
Her eyes lit up.
That scared me.
Because the light in the eyes of a person who is oppressed is not always hope.
Sometimes it's hunger.
"Say," she whispered.
“Later,” I said.
And I hated myself for using the same “then” that kept me trapped.
Daniela hugged me, but her hug was too tight.
It's like he's holding on to me so he doesn't fall.
Or maybe she was holding on to me to pull me with her.
I didn't sleep at night.
I listened to her breathing and thought about Martin.
For "owner: Martin".
For "only against document".
For "we will cash it in together."
And about the list in the notebook.
The names.
The amounts.
The dates.
Stefan.
Lawyer.
When a person starts hiding, more people appear around them who are hiding.
And then the truth becomes the most dangerous thing in the room.
And I had already brought danger home.
## Chapter Four: The University and the Boy Who Knew Too Much
I have a younger brother.
Nicholas.
He studies at university.
I was proud of him, even though I had rarely seen him lately.
He was one of those people who believed that if you study and work, the world would give you back honestly.
I already knew that the world didn't work that way.
But I didn't want to tell him.
We met in a quiet place where people don't push each other or listen to other people's conversations.
Nikola sat across from me and immediately realized that I hadn't come just to see him.
“Say,” he said.
That was his way.
No decoration.
No evasion.
“I have a problem,” I began.
He nodded.
"The loan?"
"And the credit."
"And one more thing."
His gaze sharpened.
"What?"
I hesitated.
I couldn't tell him everything. Not yet.
"A man gave me a lottery ticket."
"And?"
"And… there is profit."
Nikola did not smile.
He didn't ask "how much".
Just said:
"Is it in your name?"
It was like a punch in the stomach.
"No."
"Then why are you telling me?"
"Because..." I swallowed. "I'm thinking of cashing it in."
Nikola looked at me as if he was seeing someone else.
"This is a scam."
"It's not cheating if... if the person agrees."
Nikola leaned back.
"Does he agree?"
"He… he wants us to cash it in together."
"Together why?"
"Because... it was better that way."
Nikola smiled without joy.
"When someone says 'it's better that way,' it means it's better for them."
I looked at my hands.
"Nikola, we are pressed."
"I know."
"Daniela… she…"
My words were running out.
"She what?"
"I don't know. There are things."
Nikola tilted his head.
"Then why are you looking for a solution in a ticket that is not in your name?"
"Because other solutions have been exhausted."
He was silent, then said quietly:
"Brother, if you go down this path, it won't be just one ticket. It will be the first step."
"The first step towards what?"
"Towards becoming a person who lies without batting an eye."
I gritted my teeth.
"I'm already lying."
Nikola looked straight at me.
"Who?"
"Martin."
"And?"
"And Daniela."
Nikola sighed.
"Listen. I'm studying law."
"I know."
"I'm not a lawyer, but I know one thing: when there's money and lies, lawsuits come. Lawyers come. People who aren't like us come."
"Like which ones?"
"Like those who have the time, the means, and the connections."
"Martin is gone."
Nikola smiled bitterly.
"Are you sure?"
Then I remembered Martin's words: "There are people who don't like to lose."
"I don't know," I admitted.
Nikola leaned forward.
"Tell me the truth. Where did the ticket come from?"
"I don't know."
"And is it in his name?"
"Yes."
"Then you are just a middleman."
"I don't want to be."
"Then don't be."
I was silent.
Nikola put his hand on the table.
"I'll help you with something else."
"With what?"
"With the loan. We'll find a way to renegotiate. There are procedures. There are options."
"Not enough."
"This is real."
"And the ticket is..."
"The ticket is a trap," Nicola said firmly.
And then he added something that stuck like glue to my mind:
"And if you're already trapped, at least don't have two people holding you there."
"What does that mean?"
Nikola looked at me seriously.
"So Daniela is hiding. And Martin is hiding. And you are between them. If you start lying about the ticket, you will become easy to pressure. One will tell you: 'tell the truth,' another will tell you: 'don't tell the truth.' And in the end you will be left without air."
I got up.
I felt like a person leaving a room in which they forgot to open a window.
"I'll think about it," I said.
Nikola nodded.
"Think fast. Friday is coming. And if something happens on Friday... it's going to happen with a bang."
He stood up, we hugged and I felt how weak he was, but how hard he was.
When I was left alone, I took out the ticket.
I was watching it.
Not as a chance.
And as an accusation.
And I said to myself:
Keep the secret.
But the secret was no longer just mine.
## Chapter Five: The Businessman Who Never Walks in Without Leaving a Trace
Friday has come.
Daniela had been tense since the morning.
He doesn't eat breakfast.
Don't talk.
He was just checking his phone and flinched at every sound.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.
"No," she said too quickly.
Around noon, someone knocked.
He didn't ring the bell. He knocked.
Short. Precise. It's like he knows I'm going to open it.
I opened it.
A man I didn't know stood on the doorstep.
Well dressed.
Calm.
His eyes were the kind that didn't smile even when his mouth did.
“Are you…?” he started and stopped, as if he didn’t want to say my name out loud.
"Yes."
He nodded.
"I am Anton."
Just one name.
But it sounded like a business card.
He sounded like someone who wasn't introducing himself, but rather declaring his presence.
Daniela appeared behind me.
When I saw him, I turned pale.
And it wasn't that paleness of surprise.
It was the pallor of a man who has seen the end of the rope.
"Anton..." she whispered.
The man smiled slightly.
"Hello, Daniela."
I was silent.
The air between them was heavy with unspoken things.
“Can I come in?” Anton asked.
He doesn't wait for an answer.
He entered.
He looked around our apartment as if he were assessing it.
"It's nice," he said. "You can see it was bought with effort."
Daniela stood there as if frozen... no, not like that. She stood there as if petrified.
I stood before him.
"What do you want?"
Anton looked at me.
"I want what is due me."
"We don't owe you anything."
He smiled.
"You don't know what you owe me."
Daniela swallowed.
"Anton, I will..."
He raised his hand.
"No. You will listen."
Then he turned to me.
"You have credit. Right?"
My eyes widened.
"How…?"
"I know."
"Who are you?"
"A person who invests."
"In what?"
Anton approached the table, sat down without asking, and placed a folder on it.
"In people."
Open the folder.
There were copies inside.
Contracts.
Signatures.
And in one of them I saw Daniela's handwriting.
“What is this?” I asked.
Daniela didn't answer.
Anton said for her:
"Loan."
"We have a loan from the bank."
"This is another loan."
"Why?"
Anton tilted his head.
"Because when the bank doesn't give anymore, people come to me."
I clenched my fists.
"This is illegal."
Anton smiled.
"It's illegal if someone proves it. And proving it costs money."
I looked at Daniela.
"You borrowed from him?"
She finally spoke.
"I had no choice."
"You had a choice to tell me."
Her eyes filled with tears, but they didn't fall.
"I was trying to save us."
“By how much?” I asked.
Anton opened another sheet.
"Twenty thousand."
Daniela closed her eyes.
All the red lights went on in my head at once.
"For what?"
She whispered:
"For the installments. For… so they don't take our apartment."
"And how much did you get back?"
Anton answered for her:
"A little."
"How much is left?"
Anton smiled.
"More."
“How much?” my voice trembled.
Anton leaned forward.
"Daniela knows."
I looked at her.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“Say!” I hissed.
“Thirty-five,” she whispered. “With interest.”
Thirty-five thousand.
My head spun.
“You… you destroyed me,” I said.
Daniela shook her head.
"No... I..."
Anton patted the folder.
"That's why I'm here. It's Friday. The deadline is over."
“What will happen?” I asked.
Anton smiled, as if saying something friendly.
"There will be a court."
"Judgement?" I said, and I felt the word no longer just fear, but reality.
“I have a lawyer,” Anton said. “And she’s a very good one.”
“What about us?” I asked.
He shrugged.
"You have... hopes."
I was silent.
And then Anton said something that stuck with me:
"But you have other options."
I looked at him.
"What?"
Anton smiled even more quietly.
"I heard you got a ticket."
My heart stopped for a moment.
“What ticket?” I tried to sound innocent.
Anton leaned back.
"Lotharian."
Silence.
Tight.
"I don't know of one," I lied.
Anton was not angry.
He just nodded, as if he expected this.
"Lying is a normal reaction."
Then it happened.
"I'll give you time. Until Monday."
"For what?"
Anton looked at Daniela.
"Give me back what is owed to me."
And then he looked at me.
"And decide if you want to be honest with me. Or make me dig."
He walked towards the door.
He turned around at the threshold.
"One thing you should know. When I dig, I dig everything. Not just tickets. And not just loans."
Then he went out.
I closed the door and turned to Daniela.
She slumped down in the chair.
“Who is he?” I shouted.
"He is..." she was crying already. "The man who promised to save us."
"And you believed him?"
"He was convincing."
"And Stefan?"
She raised her head sharply.
"How do you know?"
"Your notebook."
Her eyes filled with fear.
"Stefan is..."
"Say!"
She whispered:
"Stefan is his lawyer."
In that moment, everything connected.
Friday.
Deadline.
Lawyer.
"And now?"
Daniela looked at me with despair.
"There's a ticket," he said. "Right?"
I fell silent.
She understood.
Her eyes lit up in that hungry way.
"We can save ourselves."
"The ticket is not in my name."
"I don't care," she said abruptly, then flinched at her own words. "Sorry… we just… we don't have time."
“Anton knows,” I whispered.
Daniela turned pale again.
"How?"
"I don't know."
But a thought was already forming inside me.
A dangerous, clear thought.
Martin.
Only Martin could have said it.
And if Martin told Anton...
Then the ticket was not a chance.
It was currency.
He was a hostage.
And we were coins in someone else's game.
## Chapter Six: Stefan and the First Invitation
A letter arrived on Monday.
Not by mail.
Under the door.
No brand.
No envelope.
Just a leaf.
"Invitation to voluntary performance."
The words sounded dry, but they meant one thing: it begins.
Daniela stood next to me, trembling.
"This is the end," he whispered.
"No," I said. "This is the beginning."
She looked at me.
"What beginning?"
I didn't answer.
Because a plan was already forming inside me that I didn't want to have.
A plan that is not heroic.
A plan that is a compromise.
A plan that starts with a ticket.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I picked up.
“Good afternoon,” said a voice. Calm, slightly oily. “This is Stefan speaking.”
Daniela made a soft sound, as if she had been stabbed.
“Who?” I asked, even though I knew.
"Attorney Stefan."
"How did you get my number?"
"My client has many ways to find people."
"Anton."
"Yes."
Silence.
"I'm calling to offer you a reasonable solution," Stefan continued.
"Reasonable for whom?"
He laughed lightly.
"Reasonable for everyone."
"We have no money."
"I know."
"Then?"
Stefan lowered his voice.
"I heard about the ticket."
I clutched the phone.
"We don't have a ticket."
"Don't make me smile when I don't feel like it," he said politely. "We have a witness."
Daniela looked at me as if frozen.
“Which witness?” I asked.
Stefan paused, like a man enjoying himself.
"Martin."
My blood rushed to my head.
"What does he have to do with it?"
"He is the owner."
"He gave it to me."
"Gift is a controversial term," Stefan said. "But yes. The ticket is in his name. And the winnings are... interesting."
“Ten thousand,” I said, trying to sound like it was a small amount.
"Not only," Stefan replied.
My heart stopped.
"What does 'not only' mean?"
"There is additional redemption," he said calmly. "Under certain conditions."
I looked at the ticket I kept in the drawer.
"What conditions?"
"Terms we will discuss in person," Stefan said. "Today. At six."
"Where?"
"You will receive an address."
"No," I said. "I'm not going anywhere."
Stefan sighed theatrically.
"Then we'll see each other some other way. In the hall."
"Are you threatening me?"
"I'm a lawyer," he said softly. "I don't threaten. I warn."
Close.
Daniela took my hand.
"What are we going to do?"
I looked at her.
And I said to myself: if I tell her the truth, we will be taking the most dangerous path.
And if I don't tell her... we're already on it.
"I'll go," I said.
"Me too."
"No."
"I won't leave you alone."
I looked at her and felt my anger mix with something like pity.
I didn't know whether to blame her or hold her.
"Okay," I said. "You'll come. But you'll listen."
She nodded.
We left at six.
I didn't know where we were going, but I felt like every step was like signing a contract.
My phone beeped.
Message.
"Come alone. And bring the ticket. If not, the case starts tomorrow."
There was no signature.
But the signature was clear.
Anton.
Daniela read the message and cried silently.
"He's holding us," he whispered.
"Yes," I said. "And you know what the scariest thing is?"
"What?"
"That we ourselves gave him the rope."
I clutched the ticket in my pocket and felt the paper like a knife.
That was the moment I realized: it's not about ten thousand anymore.
It's about who will dictate our lives.
And will there even be anything left of us when it's all over?
## Chapter Seven: The Meeting Where the Truth Was Sold
Stefan was waiting for us.
He was not alone.
Martin stood next to him.
When I saw him, something hot and dark boiled inside me.
Martin seemed calm.
Too calm.
As if this is just a coffee date.
Stefan greeted us with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Sit down."
We sat down.
Daniela clasped her hands in her lap.
Martin looked at me and said nothing.
Stefan put a folder in front of us.
Another folder.
The folders were like bricks used to build cells.
"We have two questions," Stefan said. "The loan. And the ticket."
“The loan is illegal,” I said.
Stefan nodded.
"Everything is illegal when you don't have money for a lawyer."
"I have a brother who is studying law," I said, and I realized how pathetic it sounded.
Stefan laughed quietly.
"University is a good thing. But it is not jurisprudence."
I looked at Martin.
"You told them?"
Martin shrugged.
"I just want mine."
"You gave it to me."
"I gave it to you because I had to hide it."
That hit me.
"Hide it? From whom?"
Martin looked at Stefan, then at me.
"From Anton."
Daniela sighed.
Stefan smiled.
"See? We are all connected."
“You worked for Anton?” I asked.
Martin grinned.
"No. I... I was useful to him."
"How?"
Martin leaned forward.
"I delivered things to him."
"What things?"
He looked at me with that look that says "don't ask."
"Don't ask me," he whispered.
Stefan tapped on the folder.
"Let's not get distracted. The ticket has a profit. There is also additional redemption if used correctly."
“What does right mean?” I asked.
Stefan pulled out a sheet.
"This type of ticket is part of a program. The profit can be increased if it is redeemed within a certain period and if certain documents are signed."
“What documents?” I asked.
Stefan looked at Daniela, then at me.
"Documents that govern the repayment of a loan."
"So..." Daniela whispered. "They want to take the profit."
Stefan smiled.
"We want to settle your debt."
"By taking the ticket."
"By using the ticket," he corrected.
I looked at Martin.
"And you agree?"
Martin smiled wryly.
"I'll take my share."
"What part?"
He shrugged.
"As much as they give me."
I gritted my teeth.
"You got me into this."
"You got yourself into it by lying about not having scrubbed it," Martin said calmly.
Stefan raised his hand.
"Enough. Here's the offer."
He pushed a sheet of paper towards us.
"You transfer the right to cash in to Anton's trusted person. In return, the debt is reduced. You get a deferment on your loan because Anton will give you money to cover the arrears."
“And what do we get?” I asked.
Stefan smiled.
"Air."
That word hit me.
It was like he knew exactly what I was missing.
“What if we refuse?” I asked.
Stefan leaned forward.
"The case starts tomorrow. They're taking your apartment. And then you'll be busy with other things."
“What others?” Daniela whispered.
Stefan looked at Martin and said calmly:
"Secrets."
My heart sank.
"What secrets?"
Stefan smiled even more softly.
"For example… where did these tickets come from. Who gave them out. Who received them. Who signed them. Who lied. Who hid them."
I looked at Martin.
He was looking away.
Daniela grabbed my hand under the table.
Her fingers were icy.
"No," I said firmly. "I won't sign."
Stefan didn't get angry.
He just nodded.
"Okay."
Then he turned to Daniela.
"Then she will sign."
Daniela was startled.
"Me?"
"You took the loan," Stefan said. "You decide."
“No,” I said.
Stefan smiled.
"You have no right to decide for her."
Daniela started crying.
"I... I don't want to lose the apartment."
Martin finally spoke:
"Sign it. Otherwise it will be bad."
I looked at him.
"Bad for who?"
He swallowed.
"For everyone."
Stefan pushed the pen.
"Just a signature."
Daniela looked at the sheet like a person facing an edge.
I leaned towards her.
"Don't sign," I whispered.
She whispered:
"What should I do?"
And in that moment I realized that the real battle is not with Anton, it's not with Stefan, it's not with Martin.
The real battle is within.
Between fear and dignity.
Between salvation today and life tomorrow.
Daniela reached for the pen.
And then my phone rang.
Nicholas.
I looked at the screen.
Stefan saw it too.
His smile tightened.
"Pick it up," he said. "Let the student hear too."
I picked up.
"Brother," Nikola said quickly. "Don't sign anything. I found something. The tickets... they're connected to a company. A big company. There's an investigation. If you interfere, they'll use you."
My heart pounded like a hammer.
"What investigation?"
"There's a complaint. Someone filed a report. Anton's name is on the records."
I looked at Stefan.
He was looking at me carefully.
"Nikola… how do you know?"
"I have a teacher who... it doesn't matter. What matters is: there's a way to pressure them. But not with a signature. With evidence."
"What evidence?"
"The ticket. And the acknowledgment. And the bank transfers. Everything."
I looked at Daniela, who was trembling.
Stefan reached out and closed my phone in one motion.
"Enough."
“You have no right,” I said.
Stefan smiled.
"You don't understand what law is yet."
He looked at Daniela.
"Signature."
Daniela grabbed the pen.
Her hand was shaking.
And then, without thinking, I took the ticket from my pocket and put it on the table.
"Here," I said. "Take it. But she won't sign."
Stefan smiled.
"You are generous."
Martin reached for the ticket, but Stefan stopped him.
"No," he said. "That's different."
He put the ticket back in the folder.
“Now we have another conversation,” he said quietly. “With Anton.”
And then I realized I had just made the most dangerous move.
I gave them the most valuable thing I had.
In exchange for nothing but time.
And time spent playing someone else's game is not a gift.
It's just a postponement.
Stefan leaned towards me and whispered:
"Beware of people who think they are your friends."
He looked at Martin.
Then he looked at Daniela.
And added:
"And from the people who sleep next to you."
Daniela turned pale.
Me too.
Because I already knew: the next secret wouldn't be about money.
It will be for treason.
And it will hurt more than anything befo
0 Comment:
Post a Comment