- Wake up, chicken. You still haven’t figured it out? Stepa lived with me. We have two children. He didn’t divorce you out of pity. He kept you here like a hired worker. But according to the will, everything will go to his real family. And the house, and the gallery, and the money, and the paintings. Clear to you, fool?
- Natasha, are you okay?
I didn’t believe a word of what she said. What family? What children? What nonsense?
- I’m fine—just think about where you’re going to work. I’m not going to tolerate you here for that kind of money. I’m not Stepa. I don’t have such a big and kind heart.
Natasha pushed a sheet onto my desk.
- Take this, as your own. See you at the reading of the will. Although—she twisted her lips—maybe you won’t even be invited there. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t leave you even a single kopeck.