Elena was carefully stirring the sauce when the lady of the house peeked into the kitchen doorway. Svetlana paused on the threshold, scrutinizing the room with a critical eye before twisting her lips in disapproval.
“Why is it so stuffy in here? You need to air it out more often,” said Svetlana, adjusting her flawlessly styled hair. “And that smell… What is that aroma?”
“It’s caramel sauce for a new dessert,” Elena answered calmly, continuing to stir the thickening mixture. After two years of working in this house, the cook had long grown accustomed to the constant comments from the new mistress.
“Sure it is,” Svetlana drawled doubtfully as she came closer and peeked into the saucepan. “Last time your ‘masterpiece’ was impossible to eat.”
Elena kept silent, though she remembered perfectly well how Dmitry Viktorovich had praised that dessert and even asked for seconds. But Svetlana’s presence always made her want to avoid conflict. The new wife of the master of the house treated the staff with arrogance, constantly reminding them of their “place.”
A child’s shout suddenly came from the hallway:
“Igor! Come back right now!”
Svetlana grimaced.
“Those kids have become completely insolent. Running back and forth as if it’s a playground. No manners at all.”
Elena cast a quick glance at her mistress. She knew Svetlana clearly had no warm feelings for her husband’s children, though she tried to hide it around Dmitry Viktorovich. But the moment he went away, her attitude changed.
In burst twelve-year-old Igor, panting, followed by nine-year-old Liza.
“Give it back! That’s my notebook!” Liza tried to reach the school notebook her brother was holding high above his head.
“Children!” Svetlana’s sharp rebuke made them both freeze. “What behavior! Go to your rooms and do your homework!”
“We’ve almost finished,” Liza muttered, lowering her eyes.
“I said go!” Svetlana’s voice rang out cold as metal.
The children left the kitchen dejectedly. Elena noticed how much they had changed since Svetlana’s arrival. They used to drop by the kitchen often, help bake cookies, laugh, and tell stories about school. Now they tried to avoid their stepmother’s vicinity as much as possible.
“By the way, Elena,” Svetlana turned back to the cook, “there will be guests tonight. I’ve ordered a special dinner.”
“But the menu is already planned…”
“It’s going to be changed,” Svetlana interrupted her. “Everything is thought out. Here’s the list of dishes.” She threw a sheet of paper on the table. “Also, there will be a cake delivered from the bakery. Make sure it’s stored properly until the evening.”
Elena looked at the list—complicated appetizers, sophisticated main courses. There was far too little time left to prepare it all.
“And please pay more attention this time,” Svetlana added, heading for the exit. “Important guests are coming. You can throw your dessert out. No need to take risks.”
After the mistress left, Elena let out a heavy sigh. Lately, Svetlana had been increasingly arranging these sudden receptions, especially when Dmitry Viktorovich was away on business. He had left three days ago, and he wasn’t expected back for another week.
Toward evening, the cake was delivered. Elena carefully examined the box—an elite pastry shop, luxurious decorations. On opening the lid, she immediately caught a familiar aroma. Among the decorations were crushed nuts.
Her heart skipped a beat. She remembered perfectly well Dmitry Viktorovich’s strict ban: no nuts in the house. He and both children had severe nut allergies. Even the smallest trace could trigger a dangerous reaction.
Elena hurried off to find Svetlana. She found the mistress trying on a new dress in front of the living room mirror.
“Svetlana, I’m sorry, but there are nuts in the cake. This could be dangerous for the children,” the cook reported cautiously.
“I thought you were a cooking specialist, not a doctor,” Svetlana cut her off, adjusting a fold of the dress. “Focus on what concerns your responsibilities.”
“But they really do have a serious allergy. Last year there was even a hospitalization—”
“Enough!” the mistress interrupted sharply. “I know perfectly well what to feed my family. Your job is to follow instructions.”
Elena returned to the kitchen, feeling her heart clench with anxiety. Something about Svetlana’s behavior seemed suspicious. Did she choose a nut-laced cake on purpose just to spite the children? Or was there some other reason?
Checking the time, Elena realized there was no room to hesitate. Guests would arrive in an hour, and she still had to finish the main course and prepare the appetizers. She tried to focus on her work, but her thoughts kept returning to the potentially dangerous dessert.
A while later, Liza peered into the kitchen.
“Elena, can I stay here?” the girl asked quietly. “I’m done with my homework.”
“Of course, dear,” the cook answered gently. “Just be careful—there’s a lot of hot stuff around.”
Liza nodded and settled in her favorite spot—a high stool by the window. Elena watched her unobtrusively. The girl used to love helping out, but now she just sat quietly, afraid of making any move.
It was time to move the cake to the serving table. Elena carefully picked up the box and headed for the door. As she passed by the sink, she seemed to stumble by accident. The box slipped from her hands and fell heavily to the floor. The lid flew off, turning the cake into a chaotic mass of cream and sponge.
“What have you done?!” came Svetlana’s icy voice from behind.
Elena turned around. The mistress stood in the doorway, her face twisted with rage.
“I’m sorry. It was an accident,” the cook said calmly, though her heart was pounding furiously. “I’ll clean it up.”
Svetlana stared daggers at Elena, the air seeming to crackle with tension. Liza cringed on her stool.
“Clean up this mess,” Svetlana hissed. “And make a replacement. Quickly!”
Once the mistress left, Elena set about clearing the remains of the cake. Her hands trembled slightly—she understood her actions would have consequences, but she saw no other way.
Three days passed. Dmitry Viktorovich returned home unexpectedly early, to the children’s great delight. Igor and Liza hung on him, both vying to be the first to share all their school stories.
“All right, my little ones,” Dmitry Viktorovich smiled, “let your dad at least get changed. Then you can tell me everything in detail.”
Elena, watching the scene from the kitchen, smiled involuntarily. The house seemed to come back to life whenever the master returned, filling with children’s laughter and warmth. Even Svetlana had temporarily replaced her perpetual dissatisfaction with an exemplary display of being a perfect wife and stepmother.
But by nightfall, the situation changed drastically. Elena had just finished preparing dinner when the kitchen door flew open with a loud bang. Svetlana stood on the threshold, her face flushed crimson, eyes flashing angrily.
“Thief!” she screeched, advancing toward the cook. “I know you did it!”
“What do you mean?” Elena asked, taken aback, stepping back involuntarily.
Instead of answering, Svetlana grabbed the cook by her blouse and began tugging, not giving her a chance to react.
“Where is it? Where did you hide it?” she yelled, still rummaging through Elena’s pockets and the folds of her clothing.
The noise drew the other staff members: the maid Vera, the gardener Stepan, and the driver Andrei, all of them watching in confusion.
“I haven’t taken anything,” Elena stated firmly, trying to pull free.
“You’re lying!” Svetlana howled, fully losing control. “I saw you snooping around my things! Get out of my house! You’re fired!”
Clutching Elena’s arm, Svetlana dragged her toward the exit. At that moment, Dmitry Viktorovich suddenly appeared in the doorway. The master froze, stunned by what he was witnessing.
“What’s going on here?” he asked sternly, looking from his wife to the cook.
Svetlana immediately let go of Elena’s hand and turned to her husband with an indignant expression.
“Dima, I caught her!” she exclaimed, pointing a trembling finger at Elena. “She tried to steal my jewelry! Can you believe it? We trusted her!”
Dmitry Viktorovich frowned.
“Which jewelry, exactly?”
“My diamond bracelet!” Svetlana proclaimed theatrically, throwing up her hands. “I noticed her lurking near our bedroom. Then the bracelet disappeared!”
Elena silently watched this scene, feeling a lump rise in her throat. There was so much falsehood in the mistress’s words.
“Dmitry Viktorovich,” she said softly but decisively, “I didn’t take any jewelry. But there is something else you need to know.”
Svetlana spun around.
“Shut up! Don’t you dare make excuses!”
“It’s about the cake that was ordered for the celebration three days ago,” Elena continued, looking Dmitry Viktorovich straight in the eye. “It contained nuts. I knew that was extremely dangerous for you and your children, so I deliberately dropped it. But your wife ignored my warnings.”
A heavy silence fell over the kitchen. Dmitry Viktorovich slowly shifted his gaze to his wife. Svetlana turned pale, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead.
“That… that was a misunderstanding,” she stammered. “I just didn’t know—”
“Didn’t know?” Dmitry Viktorovich’s voice turned cold and harsh. “Didn’t know about an allergy I’ve explained dozens of times? That even a tiny trace of nuts can cause serious consequences?”
“I thought it might be an overreaction,” Svetlana tried to force a smile. “Besides, the kids might not have tasted the cake that night—”
“Might not have tasted it?” Dmitry Viktorovich’s voice grew louder, sharper. “You put my children at risk! For what? Some pointless show?”
Everyone in the kitchen stood silently, watching the drama unfold. Maid Vera covered her mouth with her hand, and driver Andrei shook his head in disapproval.
“Dima, please let me explain…” Svetlana began, but her husband cut her off:
“No, now you listen to me. Pack your things and leave the house. Right now.”
“What?” Svetlana gave a nervous laugh. “You can’t just—”
“I can,” Dmitry Viktorovich said calmly but firmly. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing. Your presence here is no longer possible.”
Svetlana looked around helplessly, as if expecting someone to come to her aid, but all she saw were cold or averted faces. With a loud huff, she spun on her high heels and stormed out of the kitchen.
After her footsteps faded down the corridor, Dmitry Viktorovich slowly sat down on a chair.
“Elena,” he broke the long silence. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me the truth, for caring about the children… for everything. She accused you of theft because of all this?”
“It was just my duty,” Elena said quietly.
“No,” he shook his head. “It’s much more than just duty. I would like to offer you a new position—head of the kitchen, with a corresponding salary increase.”
Elena could barely hold back her tears.
“Thank you, Dmitry Viktorovich. I accept your offer.”
That same evening, Svetlana left the house with her belongings. When the children learned what happened, they did not even consider coming out to say goodbye to their stepmother.
Gradually, the atmosphere in the house began to change. Igor and Liza once again found joy in everyday life, their laughter filling every corner. They often dropped by the kitchen, helping Elena cook and sampling new dishes.
And Elena, watching the children’s happy faces, became more convinced with each passing day that her decision was the right one. Sometimes a small misdeed, carried out for a greater good, can avert serious consequences and protect those who truly need it.
