I was on the train when a man sat across from me and stared at me. It wasn't the usual look, the kind that glides absentmindedly across strangers' faces on public transportation. No, this one was focused.

I had to go back. Peter had said to go back to the station. But which station? The one I got off at, or my final one? His phone still wasn't answering. I was completely cut off from the world, holding in my hands a mysterious folder that was apparently the reason for all this.

Fear was fighting with anger. Anger at Peter for getting me involved in something like this without even warning me. For using me as a pawn, exposing me to danger I didn’t even know existed. Our marriage hadn’t been going well lately. We had been passing each other like strangers in our own home for months. He was absorbed in his work, in his construction company that he had built from scratch. He talked about a “big project,” a “breakthrough,” but also about “competitor problems.” He never went into detail. He thought he was protecting me by keeping me out of the way. And now, it seemed, he had thrown me into the epicenter of the storm.

I suddenly realized that standing on this deserted street was extremely stupid. If that man, or whoever sent him, wanted this folder, he was probably already looking for me. I needed to hide. Find a place to think. I looked around. In the distance, I could see a small cafe. With a pounding heart, I stuffed everything back into my bag, clutched the folder under my arm like a life preserver, and hurried toward it.

Every car that passed me made me jump. Every glance from a passerby seemed suspicious. Paranoia had spread its icy tentacles deep into my mind. I, Anna, the literature teacher who led an orderly and predictable life, now felt like a fugitive in a spy movie. But the adrenaline and fear were very real.

Chapter 3

Peter slammed his fist down on his mahogany desk. Anna's phone was still ringing, but she wasn't picking up. After his panicked cry, the connection had been cut, and now the entire area's network was down. Sabotage. He was sure of it. Ivaylo had gone too far.

“Damn it!” he cursed, running a hand through his hair.

His office, located on the top floor of a shiny office building, was usually his refuge, a place of control and power. But today the walls seemed to be closing in on him. The view of the city from the panoramic window did not comfort him, but reminded him of the thousands of places Ana could be right now—scared and alone.

Everything had gone wrong so quickly. This morning he had received an anonymous call. The voice, distorted by software, had warned him that tax and police officers would be raiding his office within an hour. On a signal. A fake signal from Ivaylo, of course. His main competitor, a man who had been playing dirty for years, but now had crossed all limits.

In the folder that Anna now had were the originals. Documents that not only proved that Ivaylo had won the last major tender for the construction of a business complex through bribery and fraud, but also contained recordings of conversations and bank statements that could land him in prison for decades. Peter had collected them for months with the help of a private investigator. This was his atomic bomb, his insurance.