The wife, who had been with her husband from the very beginning—back when he didn’t have money even for new jeans and dinner on the table was often just pasta with processed cheese—decided she would not so easily hand over her husband and the family business to that greedy woman.
Recently, Grigory informed his wife with a sour look that he’d been invited to a reception at city hall.
“Those people are driving me crazy with these receptions and official meetings! And you can’t refuse—not with my status. So get ready to look presentable.”
Zoya, of course, got ready. But she had no way of expecting what happened on the day of the reception. Her husband picked a fight over nothing, clearly not wanting to take his wife with him. He could have just said he’d go alone. Why humiliate her like that yet again?
But after his next line, she understood everything. So that’s why he’d started the quarrel. He needed an excuse to tell his wife he was leaving her.
“So is it about my weight, or is it about your mood?” Zoya shot back.
“What does my mood have to do with it? You’ve become unbearable—don’t you see that yourself?” Grigory shouted loudly and with malice. “It’s hard for me to be around you!”
“Don’t shout, dear, no one here is deaf. I just don’t understand one thing: in what way do I displease you so much that you can’t stand me anymore?” Zoya went on without undue emotion.
“Oh sure! Now I’m supposed to grovel, explaining how you’ve become repulsive to me! Don’t forget, I’m a wealthy and well-known man; the most important people in the city respect me; I move in political elite circles! And who are you? A woman worthy of me should be by my side—smart, beautiful, striking.”
“And, naturally, young!” clarified his wife, who already knew everything.
“Yes, young! And what’s wrong with that? Youth is energy, opportunity—it’s potential. I’m still young, and you… Well, there’s no point talking—you understand perfectly well yourself.”
“Yes, I understand, Grigory. You’ve decided to go to a younger woman. And betray me—the person who’s been with you from the very start, in the hardest times. I helped you in all your ventures when you were just getting your business off the ground. We went through so many ups and downs together that I couldn’t even recall them all now. But you prefer not to think about those times anymore. Yes, you’re a respected and very successful man. But thanks to whom did you become that, Grisha? Won’t say? Of course—it’s convenient to forget everything now. Go on, or you’ll be late; the political elite is waiting for you,” Zoya said with a smirk. “And we’ll discuss our divorce later. You know, I don’t need a husband like this either.”
Grigory left, and the woman, without taking off her elegant suit, immediately called a taxi.
She headed to her husband’s firm to see his lawyer, having arranged the meeting by phone.
“Yes, I’ll be waiting for you. Come by,” the female attorney answered when Zoya explained the purpose of her visit.
Anna Nikolaevna was about the same age as Zoya. She had worked at Grigory’s company for a long time and had done a great deal to rescue his business in various situations. When her husband more than once was on the verge of firing the experienced specialist, planning to hire someone younger, it was his wife who talked him out of it, saying they wouldn’t find a better attorney.
“Hello, Anna. Well, just as I suspected, Grigory has decided on a divorce. Let’s discuss the details of dividing our business,” Zoya said.
“What a pity. You were such a harmonious couple,” Anna sighed, looking at Zoya with sadness.
For Grigory, the news that Zoya intended to take half of everything that was lawfully hers came as a complete surprise.
“Are you out of your mind?” he shouted hysterically. “Why—why do you need this? You’re just a bookkeeper and you don’t understand a thing about this! You could just take the money and live in peace.”
“No, I don’t need the money. I’ll earn it myself—and more than you! And as for me ‘not understanding anything,’ you’re sorely mistaken. Every stage of our business’s development happened before my eyes and with my—mind you—help. So we will divide the company, period. That’s not up for discussion.”
Grigory couldn’t calm down: he fumed, tried to talk his wife into changing her mind, even attempted to threaten her. But it was all in vain. Zoya intended to divide everything they had down to the last kopeck.
“Lyuda, are you listening to me? I need to tell someone or I’ll burst with anger!” Inga raged to her friend. “What a flop, it’s brutal! I came up with such a perfect scheme, planned everything down to the tiniest detail, spent so much time and effort to snag a rich guy. And what?”
“What?” Lyuda echoed.
“This! That old hag—his wife—decided to grab everything from my Grisha. Tell me, is there any justice in this world? After the divorce and the business split he’ll be left with nothing! And then the little daughter will demand her share too. Her mother will wind her up—no doubt about it, that’s how it’ll be.”
“You’re kidding! That’s wild! But Grigory promised you the whole business would be his!” her friend said, surprised.
“What do I care what he promised! They all promise things when they’re dreaming of getting a beautiful woman into bed. The facts say otherwise. His ex turned out not to be the fool he painted her as. Ugh, what a disaster! Lyuda, just imagine—months I spent tracking his movements and visits. I twisted myself into knots to get into the events he attended. I slithered like a snake just to get him to notice me. And it worked!”
“Yeah, I was amazed you pulled off everything you planned,” Lyuda kept the conversation going.
“Exactly! And now this crash! I could have picked someone else from the candidates I had for the role of rich husband. There were plenty of contenders on my list. But I chose him—and miscalculated so badly!”
Inga was seriously considering telling her hapless lover to take a hike. Having lost half his fortune in a single day, Grigory no longer interested her. After all, she was so young and beautiful—surely she could find someone more successful and well-off.
Grigory sensed that as soon as he divorced and was free of marital ties, Inga suddenly cooled toward him. She was no longer so lively and carefree when they met. She didn’t whisper passionate words of love, didn’t make plans for the future. And when the man suggested they move in together, inviting her to his large apartment, which he’d bought immediately after the divorce, Inga surprised him—she refused. She explained it simply and naively: supposedly she was still young and not ready for such serious relationships.
“How can this be, my love? I did all this for you! The divorce, all these court battles over dividing property and the business—do you think that was easy for me?” Grigory protested, genuinely hurt by his beloved’s reaction.
“I, for one, never promised you anything. You promised me plenty! And now it turns out you lied. Of your business and those riches you bragged about, there isn’t much left,” Inga said cynically.
“Now that’s an exaggeration, darling. I still have plenty, believe me! It’ll be more than enough for the two of us! Don’t be capricious—I love you so much! Let’s live together.”
“Well then buy me an apartment. And a car. As proof of your love. All right? Now—before we get married. So it’ll be my property alone. Then maybe I’ll agree to marry you. That’s that.”
And the man, buoyed by love and by that other, indefinable feeling that comes only to men of a certain age, happily set about fulfilling his beloved’s whims. Within a few days, Inga was registering a new-build apartment and an expensive car in her own name.
And a month later, the inevitable happened. She dumped Grigory without a second thought. Now Inga had another target in her sights—richer and more solid.
Zoya’s business did not take off right away, but it steadily began to grow. By slightly changing its focus and strategy, she made it even more successful.
As for Grigory, after mourning for a while over Inga’s betrayal, he still found himself a young wife. Not as cunning and ambitious as Inga, but with an attractive appearance—someone he wouldn’t be ashamed to show to friends and acquaintances.
And as for the receptions at city hall and official meetings with the political elite—he no longer receives those invitations. His status isn’t the same. And with much less money, charity is no longer a priority.
