— Марин, це звучить неймовірно, але твоя свекруха не має жодного стосунку до родини твого чоловіка.

Olya rushed into the cafe, not even having time to hold the door - it slammed behind her, and the woman at the next table flinched at the sound. Yana looked up from the menu. You're going to fall now, - Olya gasped, dropping her bag on an empty chair instead of sitting down herself. What happened? Your mother-in-law. - Olya stood, holding onto the back of the chair, not sitting down. - We're digitizing the old archive now, there are court decisions there. I saw Svetlana Igorevna's name. Criminal record. Suspended sentence, nine years ago. Fraud. Yana almost dropped the cup from her hands. What other criminal record. You've messed something up. And that's not all. - Olya took out the phone, her hands shaking a little. - She has her own family. Real. In another city. Yana, I don’t know who this woman is, but she’s not Maksim’s mother. — Maksim would never lie that she was his mother if it weren’t so, — Yana laughed, somehow uncertainly, the way people laugh when they want their words to turn out to be a joke. — Look for yourself. — Olya turned the phone so that the screen was facing her. — Be careful with her. I’m serious. Yana picked up the phone. On the screen was a scan. Last name, first name, patronymic. Date of birth, which coincided with the one that Yana knew and congratulated her on that very day. And next to it was an article. — It could be another person, — said Yana, although her voice no longer sounded as confident as it had a minute ago. — Date of birth, city, even a birthmark on the passport photo that’s in the archive, — Olya took the phone back. — Yana, I don’t know what’s going on there. But you have to be careful.