Tamara Ivanovna methodically tapped the silver spoon against the edge of the porcelain bowl. This ringing, rhythmic sound had always irritated Olesja, but on this rainy autumn evening it seemed particularly unbearable.
– The meat is tough, – her mother-in-law remarked, pushing the plate of rosemary beef stew away. – It’s harmful for Román to chew this, his teeth are too sensitive. I told you, it should have simmered slowly in the oven for at least two hours.
Román raised his hand indulgently; the heavy watches on his wrist glimmered.
– Mom, everything’s fine. Lezsja has been out in the field all day, tired. Oh, and I forgot your umbrella in the car, I’ll run to the parking lot now.
He went out into the hallway, the door slamming loudly behind him.
Tamara Ivanovna immediately pressed her thin lips together and began examining Olesja’s fresh manicure, as if preparing another remark. To avoid the awkward silence, Olesja reached for the tablet left on her husband’s desk.
– I’ll show you the pictures of our new nursery, – she said quickly. – We finished installing the glass roofs yesterday; it looks incredible.
She unlocked the screen – the password had always been their wedding date.
But instead of the photo gallery, a push notification appeared from a hidden messenger against the dark background. The sender was listed as “M.D.” Olesja knew this was Matvej, her husband’s business partner at their landscaping studio.
The message was contained in three short lines.
“This naive one will end up with nothing. The companies have been merged, the country estate is now registered under your mother’s name. File for divorce on Thursday. I await the signature for the leftovers.”
Olesja remembered how she had accidentally overheard part of the conversation at the office yesterday.
Román had laughed on the phone: “This naive one will end up with nothing.” She hadn’t thought much of it then, assuming it was about competitors.
A splinter from the floor stabbed her foot, but Olesja didn’t move. Breathing became difficult, as if the air had suddenly vanished from the spacious dining room. She blinked once, twice. The black letters on the light background did not disappear.
To make no sound, she touched the screen with trembling fingers and opened the message history.
“He suspects nothing. He thinks we’re only changing ownership for tax optimization,” Román had written last night. Just then, Olesja had been asleep next to him, her head on his shoulder.
“Make sure all the money is moved from the joint account. This pregnancy isn’t needed in the new holding,” Matvej had replied.
“Will do on Wednesday. The house has already been transferred to mother through the power of attorney Lezsja signed in winter. Everything is going according to plan.”
– And where are the domes? – Tamara Ivanovna’s irritated voice broke in, looking at the empty cup. – The tea has gone cold.
Olesja abruptly closed the tablet and placed it face down on the table. Her ears were ringing like a heavy roar. Seven years. They had built the landscaping studio together from nothing.
She had spent days in the soil, selecting seedlings, drawing garden plans for demanding clients.
She sold the vacation home inherited from her grandmother to pay the first small office rent and the first shipment of rare plants. Román had only handled finances and contracts.
And now, just as the studio reached a serious level, he decided to throw her out the door.
The key turned in the lock. Román returned to the kitchen, brushing raindrops from the sleeve of his leather jacket.
The smell of scorched asphalt and perfume lingered. The familiar soft smile played across his face, the one Olesja had once been willing to do anything for.
– Got it! Mom, I left your umbrella in the hallway, – he stepped toward his wife, placing his arm around her shoulder and brushing his lips to her forehead. – Lezsja, why do you look so pale? Did you catch a cold?
The scent now made her nauseous.
– Yes, a bit of a chill. Probably got wet out in the field, – her voice was surprisingly calm, though she felt awful inside.
– You need rest. Tomorrow go to the salon, or take a walk in the store. I transferred a little money to your card, treat yourself. I’ll be working late tomorrow, we have tough negotiations with Matvej.
“Treat yourself. Little money.” While transferring millions through fictitious accounts, he was ready to throw her out. Olesja leaned on the table. The whole picture of their happy life shattered.
But she didn’t want to throw a scene in front of her mother-in-law. If her husband considered her naive – let him. That would be his biggest mistake.
The next day Olesja sat in a small office. The smell of old paper, dust, and strong coffee filled the room. Across the large desk sat Veronika – the lawyer her brother had strongly recommended.
Veronika was famous for always finding a way out of the most complicated situations.
Olesja recounted the story. Her hands still trembled as she hugged the hot paper cup.
– So, he plans the case on Thursday, – Veronika tapped the pen cap on the desk thoughtfully. – Classic scheme. Strip the partner, leave them with nothing. When did you sign the full power of attorney?
– In December. Román said it was necessary to speed up the land lease for the new nursery. There was a lot of paperwork, and I was constantly in the field. I didn’t read it carefully.
– Very careless, Olesja. Through that power of attorney, the joint house was legally gifted to your mother.
Challenging it will be extremely difficult, but we’ll try with the fictitious transaction proof – the lawyer opened a clean notebook. – What evidence do you have of your own investments in the business?
– I sold my grandmother’s vacation home. I transferred the money from my account to his to cover the startup capital and initial purchases.
– That’s a foothold. That’s investment in the jointly acquired assets, – Veronika squinted. – The next two days are for collecting as many documents as possible.
Files, draft contracts, correspondence with suppliers. And most importantly – act normally so as to give nothing away. Can you do it?
– I can.
– If you have access to the joint accounts, be ready to transfer the funds to your own hidden account on Wednesday morning.
Meanwhile, I’ll prepare documents to freeze all company accounts. We must act fast. But I need evidence of asset withdrawals.
Olesja stepped out of the lawyer’s office into the drizzling rain. She had a plan, but the key piece was missing – the accounting.
That evening she waited in an inconspicuous café on the city outskirts. The little bell jingled on the door as Nadyezsda, the studio’s chief accountant, entered.
The woman glanced nervously around, shaking off raindrops from her coat. Olesja knew Nadyezsda was angry at Román – a month earlier he had withheld a huge bonus for a mistake he himself had caused.
– Nadja, thank you for coming, – Olesja moved the cup of sand-colored tea aside.
– Olesja Viktorovna, if Román finds out we met, he’ll fire me immediately, – the accountant nervously fiddled with her bag strap.
– Nadja, in a few days Román will leave the studio empty-handed. All assets will be transferred to Matvej’s new company. You’ll be left out, maybe even blamed.
Nadyezsda paled, her fingers frozen near the cup.
– I suspected these services were just a front. The funds are being moved in circles. Yesterday Román cut off my access to the main account. He said he would handle everything.
– I need the statements for these transfers. And the contracts with Matvej’s companies.
The accountant was silent for long seconds. Outside, the wheels on the street made a rolling sound. Then she slowly opened her bag’s side pocket, took out a small gray USB drive, and placed it on the table.
– Here’s the hidden accounting and all transfers from the past six months. Good luck, Olesja Viktorovna. I’ll submit my resignation tomorrow.
Wednesday started busily. Román stood in the bedroom in front of the mirror, carefully tying his tie. He looked fit, his eyes shining with the promise of success.
– Lezsja, today is the decisive day. Signing major contracts. I’ll be gone late, probably to dinner with investors, – he said, throwing his jacket over his shoulders. – Don’t be bored here.
– Good luck, Román, – Olesja smiled, adjusting his shirt collar.
As the front door slammed behind him, her apparent calm vanished. Olesja took a large travel bag from the closet. Quickly and methodically, she acted.
She packed clothes, personal documents, the hard drive with their garden archives. She looked around the bedroom. Expensive wallpaper, furniture, a soft blanket on the bed – all now smelled of lies.
By 10:00 she was at Veronika’s office. The lawyer quickly reviewed the spreadsheets from Nadyezsda.
– Perfect, – Veronika nodded with satisfaction. – Here’s direct evidence of the fake deals. I’ve already sent our man to court with the petition. What about the joint cards?
Olesja took out her phone and opened the banking app. On the joint account, linked to Román’s corporate and personal cards, a significant sum remained.
Olesja transferred everything to the new account she had opened yesterday. Then she locked Román out of the loans in the settings.
On the screen: Balance 0.00.
At 14:15, Olesja’s phone buzzed. Her husband’s name appeared. She ignored it. He called again. Then messages flooded in.
“Lezsja, what’s going on with the cards?! I couldn’t pay at the restaurant! In front of the partners!”
“Why is the account empty?! Pick up the phone!”
“What’s happening?! The bank just called, everything’s frozen!”
Olesja stared at the screen and finally felt inner calm. She wrote a short reply:
“Remember, this naive one ends up with nothing? The petition is already in court. Accounts are frozen. Pay for lunch in cash. Or ask your mother, since the entire country house is now under her name. Goodbye.”
She turned off the phone, removed the SIM card, and tossed it away.
The air felt fresh, filled with the scent of rain-soaked leaves. The city went about its life, and Olesja walked confidently toward the metro. Her friend was already waiting with the keys to their comfortable apartment.
The first court session was a month and a half later. The courtroom hallway was narrow, the benches worn. Román looked terrible: his face sunken, shoulders drooping. The previous confidence was gone.
Matvej was not present – as suspicious transfers were investigated, the partner quickly disappeared, leaving Román alone with the problems.
When Olesja and Veronika reached the door, Román blocked their path.
– Lezsja, listen to me… let’s stop this, – his voice was hoarse. – Why are you destroying everything? Your actions caused the main subcontractors to leave. We could reach an agreement.
Olesja stopped and looked him straight in the eyes.
– I didn’t destroy anything, Román. You did, when you thought you could throw me out with nothing, – she spoke softly but firmly. – We won’t negotiate.
The trial was long. Román’s lawyers tried to prove Olesja was merely an employee. Veronika worked professionally. She presented the court with the statements, Nadyezsda’s testimonies, and the correspondence.
