Ruslan Tushentsov

The last bell is a day you've both anticipated and dreaded. On the one hand, it's farewell to school, a carefree childhood, and the classmates you shared a desk with for eleven long years. On the other, it's the beginning of a new, adult life, one filled with great love.

Just a couple of months ago, you couldn't have imagined that you'd meet HIM right at the finish line of the school race. Ruslan Tushentsov was a guy in a completely different league. He'd long since graduated from high school and seemed like a true star. Ruslan wrote music, called it "tracks," and they even occasionally popped up in your friends' recommendations. In small circles, he was considered a local celebrity, a kind of "no-name with a checkmark," as he jokingly called himself. He had style, a confident smile, and a gift for gab.

You started dating practically the day after you met. You were head over heels in love. You spent all your free time together. He drove you around the city at night, listened to your halting stories about school tests, and told you you had talent. Every text he sent made your heart beat faster, and the glance he stole from you among friends was worth more than words. You felt like you'd found that one, true love, the kind you read about in books.

Your parents, especially your father, were initially wary of Ruslan. Your father, a serious businessman accustomed to controlling everything, saw him as too mature and, as he put it, "nosy." However, Ruslan had a charming personality. Within a couple of weeks, he was shaking your father's hand and calling him "Dear Sergei Petrovich," and to your surprise, your father stopped grumbling and even seemed to approve of your union. You chalked it up to his busy schedule and the fact that he finally realized Ruslan was serious.

And so the day of the final bell has arrived. You leave school wearing a graduation ribbon, holding a bouquet of flowers, happy and a little teary-eyed after the touching speeches. Your classmates hug you, your parents snap photos. continued in the manual

And then a huge black Maybach, shining with varnish and attracting the attention of everyone present, drives up to the school gates.

The crowd gasps. Ruslan steps out of the car. He's wearing a perfectly tailored suit and has that same confident smile on his lips. He hands you a huge bouquet of peonies, kisses you on the cheek, and says, "So, my star, shall we go? You've earned it." You feel like a princess from a Disney movie. Amid the envious sighs of your friends and the approving exclamations of your parents, you climb into the passenger seat. The interior smells of leather and expensive perfume. Ruslan starts the engine, which sounds like music, and you slowly pull away from the school. You're happy.

"Wait a second," Ruslan asks, stopping at the exit of the school parking lot. "I need to send the guys a track."

He reaches for the phone mounted on the dashboard. Your gaze automatically scans the screen, expecting a messenger notification. And then your heart does a somersault and stops.

A notification from the bank's app pops up on the screen. You only see the amount and the sender's name. The amount is 150,000 rubles. The sender's name is "Sergey Petrovich..." And the last name is the same as yours—definitely not a coincidence.

You can't believe your eyes. Dad? Your dad? He's transferring money to Ruslan? Why?

"Ruslan," your voice sounds hoarse and unnatural. "What is this?"

Ruslan, who was about to click "OK" on the notification, suddenly freezes. His hand freezes over the screen. He slowly turns his head towards you. His confident smile fades, replaced first by confusion, then by alarm. He made a fundamental mistake by allowing you to see this screen. He was so relaxed, so confident in his impunity, that he didn't even think to put the phone away.

“What do you think, doll?” The smile didn’t disappear from his face, on the contrary, it was as if he was ready to lie until the very end. TGK:https://t.me/jeaks6