The back straightens itself - one wants to wear such expensive things with pride, royally. And when you walk around in rags, albeit decent ones, you try to be inconspicuous so as not to attract attention. As if you can, like a chameleon, merge with the environment.

“Why do you keep striving to deprive yourself of the simplest things?” - Belova asks kindly, when over and over again, looking at the prices with horror, I refuse gifts. - Let's agree that you will try to accept the gifts of fate. Are you punishing yourself for something? When you return from Poland, if you want, I will send you to a good specialist.

- To a psychotherapist, or what? I ask with shame mixed with indignation, starting to get used to the arrogance of my employer. Does she think that I will agree? And why do I need this kind of help? Thinking like this is scary. No, what you have already given me is enough. And, Anna Vitalievna, you'll forgive me, but I agreed to help, and you climb right into the soul.

- Here! Belova smiles approvingly. - Already better. Grow teeth and claws, you'll need them. If you don't want to do something, don't agree. And then people, they are like that - they will sit down and their legs will hang down. You're on me, girl, do not be offended. I want the best for you, but you are everything for others and for others. What do you want for yourself?

“And I’ll decide this myself,” I cut off coldly, and everything inside turns over from such rudeness. It’s unusual to talk to anyone like that, but Belova herself asked for it. "And why are you being so kind to me anyway?" Do not be offended when you worked, you did not really like it. Were you afraid that a rootless girl would covet your son?

I don’t know where such courage comes from in me, but Anna Vitalievna greatly angered me with her unceremonious instructions. She doesn't answer right away. Pursing his lips, he sorts through the colored rags on the hanger, then quietly admits:

- Of course, I wanted the best choice for Demyan. She would never let her marry a servant. You're sorry. It's not about you. Candor for candor. This is a misalliance. You yourself would feel embarrassed among people not of your formation.

“I would never even try…” I flare up, trying to control myself.

“You might not. Too honest for that. But Demyan laid eyes on you, I'm a mother - I see everything.

- Nonsense. I do not believe. He treated me like dust under my feet.

- What a naive soul you are, Verochka. Maybe we could get along, we just need to get to know each other better.

Luckily, she stops talking and we finish our shopping in a hurry. Then they introduce me to my “brother” and “husband”, which makes me feel the wildest thrill - after all, I will have to portray close relationships, and I am incredibly embarrassed by two handsome young people, Kostya and Zhenya, whom I am afraid to confuse by name. Kostya, my “brother”, a short, thin blond, is dressed brightly, expensively, his hair is shaved on the sides, a fashionable dyed forelock is on top, headphones are in his ears, dark glasses are in front of his eyes, he rolls chewing gum in his mouth. Typical major in appearance.

Zhenya is more presentable, dressed in classic jeans, no rips or wear, as young people prefer, a shirt, and on top is a thin sweater of a pleasant sandy color. He has regular features, brown hair, a slim figure. My husband was chosen handsome, even cute due to full lips. A man of the type who would not shake hands with me under other circumstances. Unpleasant and bitter, but it is the truth of life. We are at different levels of the social ladder, and outside of our joint event, we could hardly have crossed paths.

Nevertheless, with two such different, but united by wealth men, I am going on a trip abroad. In order to somehow bring them closer to me, I invent legends for them. Kostya is an ordinary poor student, moonlighting as a pizza delivery man. Anna Vitalievna saw him and decided to hire him.

And Zhenya ... Let him be the personal driver of Ignat Alekseevich. Ordinary working people. The same as me. I don't want to know the truth, it's only going to get in my way now.

It is better to focus on studying my "disease" and get used to the behavior of the rich spoiled Zlata Izmailova, whom the doctors recognized as hopeless. This is what I do in the first class of the Boeing 747, which quickly covers the distance from St. Petersburg to Warsaw.

The service in the cabin is at the highest level, the flight attendants obsequiously offer champagne and other drinks, not forgetting to make eyes at my companions. It doesn’t matter to them whether these men are busy or free, the main thing is to try to catch luck by the tail.

After all, suddenly lucky? Suddenly, some lonely millionaire will pay attention to them, so beautiful and unusual, of which there are so many in love stories and so few in life. He will take him to his cool mansion with ten pools and golden fountains, will fulfill all desires and get a star from the sky. Laughing, I think about what I dream about myself.

After all, she fell in love with Demyan Belov and counted on something. So maybe I'm a millionaire hunter too? It's unlikely, I understand it clearly. If he were poor, she could not remain indifferent in the same way. He got me hooked. From his tired, sick look, she trembled and burned every time. The sound of rare laughter filled me with warmth. Even when he, going crazy with pain, covered me in black, I was filled with pity, I wanted to help, not leave. Probably, Anna Vitalievna is right, and it’s time for me to see a psychotherapist in order to break the established mechanism, when I gladly give myself up to care for the orphans and the poor, forgetting about myself.

I have no idea how to behave with Demyan if I meet him. Somehow I imperceptibly got involved in this game and also believed that he was alive. Not only because she found hope, but because so many serious influential people are involved in the case, connections are involved, documents are drawn up. All these people are not stupider than me. Who am I to doubt?

I don't know what to say to him. I will, as always, be shy, this is clearer than clear. I'll get straight to the point and ask you to contact your parents. Find out why he doesn't. And if it's not Demyan, then I'll go to the police, or better, I'll call the Belovs first, as discussed. It's decided. I will do so. A chill crept into my soul. I must be taking a big risk. Why did I get involved in all this? But there is no turning back. It's too late to refuse when boarding is already approaching.

“You are too constrained, dear,” Zhenya says softly, not for the first time, putting her hand on my palm and squeezing it in a gesture of support. “Behave like you spend money every day.