– What do you mean?
He smiled, but there was nothing good in his smile.
That you were very close to her. Especially financially.
Kaloyan took a step forward.
Be careful how you speak.
I touched his hand.
I didn't want a scandal at the cemetery.
“Maria was helping my family,” I said. “That’s between us.”
Victor laughed softly.
- That's the problem. He's not with you anymore. My aunt left a lot of obscure things. Her accounts will have to be checked. If she gave family money to strangers, we'll look for them.
Elitsa turned pale.
What family money?
- You'll find out.
He turned around and left.
The color didn't say anything.
He just looked at me with the look that people have when they've already decided who you are without hearing your story.
In the evening, Kaloyan came home.
He was forty-one. There were two children, a mortgage and a job that kept him tense. But that night, he was sitting at my kitchen table like the boy with the torn shoes.
- Mom, I didn't like this Victor.
- To me too.
You're not going to give them money back, are you?
- I don't know.
What does “I don’t know” mean?
I don’t know where they came from. If Maria took from something that wasn't hers...
Twenty-seven years?
- Yes.
You raised two children with that money.
Not just with that money.
- But they helped.
- They helped.
He squeezed his jaws.
Dad wasn't like that. You wouldn't do anything to be dragged into the courts now.
I don't think he was either.
What is the truth?
I looked at the empty chair opposite me.
Maria always sat there.
- I don't know.
The next morning I got a call from a bank.
A woman with a business voice presented herself as a personal assistant to the director of a branch in the center of Sofia.
– Is Mrs. Vera Stoyanova?
- Yes.
– Mr. Georgi Markov would like to meet with you on an issue related to the late Maria Genova.
My hands are getting cold.
- What's this about?
I'm sorry, but I can't discuss the details on the phone. There are documents that should be handed to you in person.
I'm not her relative.
- We know. But you're listed by name.
The meeting was at three in the afternoon.
I didn't tell the kids.
Not because I wanted to protect them.
But because I no longer wanted other people to look at me as if I was a woman who lived by someone else's secret.
The bank was in an old building near Slaveykov. There were high ceilings, marble steps and that excessive silence that always makes me speak more quietly.
Georgi Markov was waiting for me in a small office.
It was an elderly man with gray hair and thin-rimmed glasses. It happened when I came in.
– Mrs. Stoyanova. Condolences for your girlfriend.
- Thank you.
I’ve known Maria for many years.
