— Collecting evidence, dear. Of your affairs and something worse.
Katya’s voice rang like a bell across the now-silent conference hall. She walked with poise to the center, heels clicking softly on the polished floor. All eyes were on her — the silent cleaner now unrecognizable in a fitted black dress, holding a neat folder under her arm like a prosecutor in court.
— She’s lying! — Dmitry barked, stepping forward. — She’s just my jealous wife, making a scene!
— Am I? — Katya said calmly. She opened the folder and handed a stack of printed messages and photographed documents to CEO Pavel Romanovich, who took them hesitantly. — These are your internal financial reports. And those are message logs between your trusted “business development manager” and Irina Somova of Vector.
Gasps rippled through the room.
— And here, — Katya added, pulling out her phone and projecting screenshots on the large TV screen behind the stage via Bluetooth, — are the messages he sent using his office phone. I also have voice recordings, thanks to the bugs in his office.
— You… bugged me?! — Dmitry blurted, red-faced.
— You left me no choice, Dim. When you treat your wife like an appliance, she might just learn how to fix things herself.
Alina had gone pale. She stepped back, bumping into a tray of glasses. No one helped her.
Pavel Romanovich was no longer silent.
— Dmitry, is any of this true?
Dmitry opened his mouth, then closed it again. His face looked like a man who’d just discovered he was in freefall.
— Effective immediately, — the CEO said, his voice sharp, — you’re suspended pending investigation. Security will escort you out.
A pin could’ve dropped in the room and everyone would’ve heard it. Dmitry tried to protest, but the guards were already moving in. As he was led out — betrayed, humiliated, ruined — he looked back at Katya, hatred burning in his eyes.
But she didn’t flinch.
After he was gone, Pavel turned to her.
— Ms. Kovaleva… or should I say Petrova? I don’t know what to say.
— You don’t have to. I’ve already emailed everything to your legal department — and the police.
— You saved this company. What can we do for you?
Katya smiled faintly.
— I’d like to return to my profession. I have a degree in economics. And a rather unique understanding of your internal operations now.
Pavel blinked — then chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.
— We’ll be in touch on Monday. And thank you.
As she walked out of the conference hall, Katya felt lighter than she had in years. No tears. No regret. Just clarity.
She wasn’t just a wife in the kitchen anymore.
She was a woman who had taken her life back — on her own terms.
Epilogue (One year later)
Ekaterina Kovaleva now led the Strategic Planning Division at Progress. The very desk Dmitry once sat at was hers.
A newspaper lay on her office table. Headline:
“Former Progress Executive Sentenced for Corporate Espionage”
She didn’t even bother to read it.
Outside her office, the cleaning staff passed by — a quiet nod from Lyuda, a wink from Nina Vasilyevna, who still led the team.
Katya smiled.
She hadn’t just exposed the truth.
She had rewritten her story.