When I told her what had happened, she didn’t look at me with pity.
She simply asked:
“Do you want the truth, or do you want a reason to keep hoping?”
The question shook me.
“I want the truth.”
“Then prepare yourself. Sometimes the truth is much bigger than what we think we’re looking for.”
The letter “M.”
A week later, Victoria called.
“Can we meet?”
We met in her office, a small room above an accounting firm.
She placed a thin folder on the desk in front of me.
“The woman’s name is Milena Dobreva.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“How old is she?”
“Forty-eight. Divorced. She works as a corporate event organizer. She has been with the same company for three years.”
“How did she meet Georgi?”
Victoria looked at me carefully.
“We don’t know that with absolute certainty yet. But we do know it wasn’t a random meeting.”
She opened the folder.
Inside were photographs.
Georgi and Milena at the hotel.
Georgi and Milena at a restaurant.
Georgi and Milena inside his car.
Then there were records of their conversations.
Nothing had been hacked.
The information had been obtained legally through documented surveillance and publicly visible phone activity.
