I was in the notary’s office and watching Stas. He was glowing with joy, expecting his complete victory. He had no doubt that I would sign the documents that would hand everything to him—my life and my father’s inheritance. I took the pen and looked at him. “You know, Stas,” I said calmly, “you always claimed that I’m no good at business. But there’s one thing you did manage to teach me: always read carefully what you are signing.” I watched his smile slowly fade, replaced by confusion. I put the pen on the table and pushed his papers aside, replacing them with my folder. He looked at it, and his face turned to stone. At that moment, the door burst open. I didn’t turn around because I knew who had arrived. Two people entered, and their confident steps across the parquet sounded like music to me. Music of my revenge.