SONYA POV
"My salary is fine, and at home there is a dishwasher - the best one. We only finished renovating the kitchen last year."
Max spoke with the same feeling and the right emphasis, as if he were speaking in court and building a line of defense for his client. Just a little more, and he would go on the offensive.
But I was silent. I simply could not bring myself to admit to Nina what had happened. Besides, if Max could confess to me, he could do the same here.
But for some reason, he was silent. The seconds were ticking away with every strike of the wall clock. His heart was beating about twice as fast, his pulse was going through the roof.
"We need a divorce as soon as possible, you understand? In our business, the faster, the less painful. And less fuss and rumors. We don't need rumors at all," I tried to explain.
My fingers squeezed the leather handle of my bag so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. There will probably be traces left. But the turbulence stopped. Everything fell into place - clear and distinct.
"Sonya, I don't understand. What scam? Why quickly? Max, can you explain?"
Nina spread her arms and stood up, which was not a very good sign. She adjusted her perfect hairdo, running her fingertips across her forehead to her ear, removing an invisible strand, and folded her arms across her chest.
"We're getting a divorce because I cheated on Sonya."
"Cheated?"
The judge looked up at me, looking for confirmation of his words. I nodded.
"What a bastard you are, Max!" she blurted out, taking a few steps toward the man sitting in the chair and hanging his head.
Then she slapped him on the back of the head. "What the hell, Max? Sonya? And now you're leaving your wife to go to your mistress?" Sonya, let's get on his nerves properly, he wants a divorce!
"You don't understand," I whispered, without moving my lips.
If I had suddenly started explaining, it would have definitely turned out to be some kind of nonsense. Stuttering, hesitating, tears. I hadn't cried it all out yet, and I didn't want to do it in public. Even if only one person were to witness it, I couldn't bear it.
That's why I kept silent. With my silence, I begged him to agree and help. And she understood. Like any woman who has ever gone through a painful divorce from her husband, Judge understood everything perfectly.
"Okay. I will prepare the documents and send... no, I will write to you, Max, so that you can pick them up. I will not send them by courier or by mail. It will take several days. The minimum period for all the bureaucracy is a week. By the end of this year, your marriage will be officially dissolved, unless you change your mind."
"We will not change our minds," I answered.
"We will see," Max said in unison with me, getting up from his seat. He looked at me and could hardly hide the condemnation that was inappropriate now.
Don't you dare! Don't even think about it, Max!
I threw out a not very polite, but very quick "Thank you" and left the office. My husband was still following me, all the way to the street, but I wanted to hide and not see him at all.
The front door swung open, a nasty drizzle flew into my face. The light from the street lamps hit my eyes unpleasantly, and when they got used to the irritants, it became clear that just at that moment another figure approached the steps of the courthouse, who had a direct relation to what happened.
***
Someone will say that for a female lawyer, the main thing is brains and professional skills. Bitchy character. Steel grip, without which it is difficult to survive in a profession overflowing with testosterone.
That's right.
But as in any other business, as in any other job, entering any room, office, or courtroom, we make an impression primarily with our appearance. High heels, strict tight suits, hairdo, makeup. Everything that can mislead the enemy.
There is no hint of feminism here. Our best weapon is the ability to catch them off guard.
I knew how to do it. Lyuba knew how to do it, too.
Four years ago, when she was still a final-year law student, she showed up in my office and said she wanted to become one of the best female attorneys in Moscow. And she needed a good mentor.
Back then, I already had four graduates in my practice, and I couldn't take on more due to a lack of time. But Max avoided the responsibilities of a mentor and preferred to take lawyers with experience into his team.
In the end, I persuaded him to help Lyuba with her diploma.
She was a pretty, short brunette with slanted eyes and a noticeable gap between her teeth. The male half of our then still quite small work collective went crazy, but then she made it clear that romances at work were taboo for her.
This became another reason why after defending her diplomas we invited her to work without hesitation.
She became part of the team and Max's assistant. At first, she studied and helped with paperwork. Now she also runs her own affairs, but she could not give up the role of the boss's right hand.
Amazing devotion on her part.
Amazing stupidity and narrow-mindedness - on mine.
Standing at the foot of the stairs, she clutched a folder in her hands, which probably contained the documents Max needed. Executive, considerate, punctual. My husband could always rely on her and often joked that if Lyuba got married or finally took care of her personal life, then his work schedule would be seriously shaken.
Oh, how many jokes I could generate on this topic right now.
"Mr Titov," Lyuba spoke up, but did not approach us. "I brought you a package of documents on the Alekseev case. Marat is flying out tomorrow morning and can meet you no later than eight o'clock. Sorry to disturb you, but... it seemed important."