The phone screen flashed, illuminating the dim kitchen. I sat at the table, holding a cooling mug of chamomile tea.
The half-open window let in the scent of wet asphalt and the exhaust of evening traffic. The apartment was quiet. Only the monotone hum of the fridge filled the corner.
On the screen, the “Relatives” family chat notification was blinking.
I swiped across the glass, and the photo opened. A long table, covered with a white, starch-smoothed tablecloth. Huge plates held crab claws and oysters on ice, and tall glasses of red, dry wine rippled.
At the head of the table sat Tamara Ivanovna — my former, now ex-mother-in-law. She wore that emerald green dress she had bought last month. Next to her stood Róman, my ex-husband. He was smiling, embracing a tall blonde woman at the waist.
Then a voice message loaded. I clicked it, and the silence was cut through by Tamara Ivanovna’s voice, overtaking the restaurant music:
— Well, dears! We’ve finally cleared up this misunderstanding with our family. Let’s celebrate the beginning of a new, normal life! Let’s show everyone our new daughter-in-law, Anjelika! Waiter, bring the hot dishes; today we are generous!
Immediately, enthusiastic reactions came from Róman’s sisters, Dária and Inna.
I put down the phone. The tea had completely cooled. We had left the notary office only four hours ago with Róman.
The divorce procedure had been quick, without disputes. And already his family was hosting a banquet to celebrate the disappearance of the “boring bride.” The most ironic part was that they did all this at my expense.
I am an auditor. My job is to discover discrepancies in spreadsheets, find hidden expenses, and catch those who think they are smarter than others.
For me, only documents are authentic; words are mere air movements.
I met Róman six years ago. At that time he was a simple logistics associate, but he spoke about opportunities so convincingly that I believed him.
I was thirty-two, tired of returning to a quiet apartment. I wanted a family, to be needed.
Six months into our acquaintance, Róman suggested we start our own transport company.
— Szófia, I have a client base, I know the business from start to finish. But we need initial capital to rent vehicles. No bank would give a loan without collateral — he said nervously, fiddling with the edge of a napkin.
I did what I regretted for years. I sold the spacious summer house my parents had left me and invested all my savings into the company’s starting capital, taking the largest share.
On paper, we were partners. In reality, I built the daily routine from scratch. I prepared contracts, handled accounting, dealt with audits, optimized taxes. Róman became the face of the company.
He walked around in perfectly pressed suits, had lunches with potential clients, shook hands with the right people.
In my cramped office, the air smelled of dusty papers and a working printer, while Róman returned from meetings with a faint scent of expensive cologne.
Over time, his family moved into our lives as well.
Tamara Ivanovna’s house had always been heavy with odors: the air of old furniture and food that wasn’t fresh greeted us. When we first met, my mother-in-law bombarded me with cross-questions while placing greasy meat pieces on my plate.
— Szófia, Róma said you handle all the money — she squinted. — But you’ll also help the family, won’t you? We are simple people, we need support. Now you’re part of our clan.
Róman’s sisters, Dária and Inna, sat across from me. They scrutinized me as if weighing how much they could squeeze out of me.
— I’ll help where I can — I said politely, trying to make a good impression.
Only the father-in-law, Nikolaj Stepánovics, remained silent. He rarely spoke when his wife was present. Only Róman’s brother, Vadim, watched the scene with open contempt.
As the company generated stable profits, the relatives’ demands grew.
First, Róman asked that we issue an additional card for Tamara Ivanovna.
— Szófia, it’s uncomfortable for mom to always ask for cash for groceries. Let’s create a card linked to my account. And for the sisters too. Small things, don’t be stingy.
I agreed. Naively, I thought this would build family relationships.
But soon, my phone was flooded with notifications about expenses: Dária bought massage memberships, Inna purchased designer bags, Tamara Ivanovna replaced curtains and bought gold pendants, paid for cosmetic treatments.
At a Sunday lunch, I tried to speak:
— Tamara Ivanovna, Dária, Inna. Let’s moderate the spending a bit. This month, too much money went to non-essential things.
My mother-in-law slammed the fork on the plate loudly. The crack hurt my ears.
— Are you trying to punish me in my own house?! — her face reddened. — It is the bride’s duty to create a home and make her husband happy! You have neither child nor care! You sit over your spreadsheets like a dog over hay!
Inna immediately reinforced:
— Exactly. Years go by, and no offspring. At least compensate materially for what you neglect in your womanly duties.
Something constricted in my throat. Slowly, I turned to Róman. I expected him to slam the table, set his mother and sisters straight. But he only studied the tablecloth pattern.
— Eat, Szófia — he grumbled without looking at me. — Mom is just tired, don’t mind her.
That night, only Vadim could not hold back. He suddenly pushed the chair.
— Have you completely lost your mind?! — he shouted. — A person pays for everything and yet they treat her like this right before her eyes!
— Shut up, kid! — screamed Tamara Ivanovna. Vadim spat disappointedly and slammed the door loudly as he left.
I silently endured. I felt that if I argued now, I would ruin the company I had built from zero. I suppressed my anger and continued to work.
But a month ago, Julija, our chief accountant, quietly entered my office. She closed the door tightly and placed a gray folder on my desk.
— Szófia, I can’t close the quarter with this bookkeeping. This is beyond acceptable.
I opened the folder. Jewelry store receipts, countryside villa rentals, southern trips.
Everywhere a name appeared — Anjelika. At the bottom of every document was Róman’s cursive signature. These expenses were listed as “VIP client relationship representation costs.”
That evening I waited in the kitchen. He arrived at midnight. He dropped his jacket and smiled automatically. The scent of his shirt was unfamiliar, sweet perfume.
— Are you having dinner? — I asked, looking toward the window.
— No, I ate at the meeting.
— How did the meeting with Anjelika go?
Róman froze. His hand stayed on the fridge door. He slowly turned around.
— Are you checking my personal matters?
— The documentation of my own company, Róman. You are using corporate funds to pay for an affair. You list hotel rooms as negotiations.
He went to the table and sat across from me. No apology, no remorse. Only irritation, disturbed by the comfort of his life.
— Szófia, don’t freak out. We’re both exhausted with each other. You’ve become a counting machine. You can’t speak to me like a human. Your rules are too narrow. Let’s make the separation civilized. No hysterics, no dividing the spoons.
The word “civilized” hung in the air. He had drained the accounts, declared his relatives innocent at my expense, and now asked me to leave quietly.
— Fine — I nodded. — If civilized, then civilized it will be.
Now we are divorced. On the phone screen, the happy family toasted the new “appropriate” bride. They celebrated, ignoring the legal details: every additional gold card was linked to my account.
I opened the banking app. Complete calm and emptiness filled my chest.
Tamara Ivanovna’s card. Blocked.
Róman’s card. Blocked.
Dária and Inna’s cards. Blocked.
Four touches, four closed taps.
Forty-five minutes later, the phone vibrated. My ex-mother-in-law’s name appeared. I waited through three rings and answered.
— “Why is the card blocked?!” — screamed Tamara Ivanovna through the speaker, with loud music and arguments in the background.
— Good evening, Tamara Ivanovna — I replied calmly. — You used my supplementary card. Since I am no longer part of the family, the service has ended.
— Are you sane?! — she could barely speak through her rage. — The huge bill just came! So many guests! The restaurant manager thinks I’m a thief! Turn it on immediately!
— You hosted the banquet to celebrate my disappearance and introduce the new bride. Then pay with Anjelika. Goodbye.
I put down the phone. Seconds later, Róman called.
— Szófia, what are you doing?! — he panted. — Turn the cards back on! This is shameful in front of the family! I’ll pay tomorrow!
— If you pay tomorrow, do it yourself today, Róman. We agreed it would be civilized. Stick to the agreement.
I put his number on the blacklist.
Later that evening, Vadim also called from an unknown number.
— Szófia, I just wanted to say… you did everything right. It was chaos here. Mom was screaming at the waiters, Dária and Inna tried to sneak out the back door, but security brought them back.
Anjelika was red, with only three hundred rubles on her card. Dad had to borrow from acquaintances so they wouldn’t get caught.
I felt sympathy for Nikolaj Stepánovics. He always paid for others’ courage. But I did not stop.
The next morning I sat at my lawyer’s office. A pile of documents lay on the table. The apartment now occupied by Róman’s family — while their country house was being renovated — was mine. Exactly the apartment I had bought before marriage.
Around lunchtime, the courier delivered an official notice to Tamara Ivanovna against signature. According to its dry text, she had to leave the apartment within seven days because it was to be sold.
Two hours later, Dária burst into my office. She was barely breathing, her makeup smudged.
— Have you completely lost your conscience?! Where will our mother go?! Are you going to throw an old person onto the street?!
I looked at her distorted face.
— Let Anjelika take her in. You are already one big, united family. Security will escort the girl to the elevator.
Simultaneously, I initiated an internal audit of our logistics company. As majority owner, I had the right to request any documents.
All amounts transferred to Anjelika, all fictitious repair invoices were recorded. I sent official letters to key clients and suppliers, notifying them of theft by the CEO.
The effect was immediate. Fuel suppliers froze shipments. Clients began canceling contracts.
Róman desperately tried to access the funds, but everywhere he was refused without my signature. The perfect image he had built on my money shattered.
The new bride, Anjelika, was rational.
Once she realized she had no unlimited access to the company accounts, and courts and debts were approaching, she simply disappeared, taking all the gifts and jewelry.
A few weeks later, leaving work, I saw Róman beside my car. I barely recognized the once confident director. His face was hollow, his beard streaked with gray, his expensive coat disheveled.
— Szófia… why were you so harsh? — his voice trembled. — The company is going bankrupt. Mom is in debt, the sisters won’t talk to me, they blame me for everything.
I stopped and looked him in the eyes sternly.
— I didn’t ruin anything, Róman. I just stopped the payments. Everyone is responsible for their own actions.
I got into my car and slowly drove off the curb.
The court gave Róman no chance. He was ordered to repay all the stolen money. The company was liquidated, and the vehicle fleet was auctioned off.
Tamara Ivanovna now works night shifts as a dispatcher for a taxi service to repay the loan. Dária and Inna angrily moved into cheap rentals, completely refusing to help their mother.
Only Vadim occasionally sends short messages. He moved north, working in a factory as a mechanic. He recently sent a photo of a snowy forest, with the message: “You did well. Otherwise, they would have eaten you alive.”
And I opened my own consulting firm. The smell of freshly brewed coffee spreads through my office. I work only with honest entrepreneurs and will never again try to buy goodwill.
Life gave a great lesson: if you let others exploit your kindness without limit, they will very quickly believe it is their rightful property.
