It seemed that Kirill had thought of everything: fictitious bankruptcy, divorce, secret accounts. But he had forgotten that Anya was not just a «modest housewife.» Behind the borscht and baby blankets was a woman capable of turning his lies into financial ruin. When the last illusions collapsed, there remained only one question: what was scarier—losing a business or discovering that your wife had long been playing her own game? This is the story of how quiet revenge becomes louder than the crash of a collapsing empire.
— You’ll never be the CEO of a large corporation, I swear, — Kirill said mockingly, looking at his wife with the demeanor of an experienced psychologist, disappointed in his patient. — You don’t understand a thing about business.
— How could I understand? — Anya shrugged, not even turning away from the stove where she was stirring the borscht, her husband’s favorite dish. — I’m not a superwoman from the Planet of Great Businessmen. Just a humble housewife with a home, a child, and your socks scattered all over the apartment.
This conversation, which had become familiar over the past few years, echoed so often in their kitchen that even one-year-old Masha, sitting in her high chair, instinctively scrunched her nose every time her father began his lecture about how difficult it was to manage his own company. Especially when his wife didn’t support him at all.
Kirill, a hereditary entrepreneur (in his own words), though in reality just a lucky guy who won a tender for the supply of building materials to a government department during a time when all his competitors went bankrupt, loved to emphasize his uniqueness. Sometimes Anya felt like he wore an invisible crown with the inscription «I am a business genius,» waiting for everyone to bow accordingly.
— Look, — Kirill continued, throwing his legs up on the nearby chair without asking if she needed help. — If the company starts going bankrupt, you need to act quickly and decisively. Cut off everything unnecessary, minimize risks, preserve assets… You’d be completely lost.
Anya silently stirred the soup, thinking that her culinary skills were never criticized by her husband. But her financial acumen was constantly questioned, even though the apartment, inherited from her grandmother, was their family nest. And her salary as a piano teacher was the only steady income when Kirill was «getting his business off the ground.»
— Good thing you’ll never have such problems, — she handed him a bowl of steaming borscht. — You are a business genius.
He didn’t even notice the sarcasm—he just hummed in satisfaction and picked up his spoon.
The conversation about bankruptcy turned out to be prophetic. A week later, Kirill came home pale as a sheet, with red eyes and the smell of cheap whiskey. He threw his briefcase into the corner of the hallway and collapsed into a chair without even removing his shoes.
— We’re bankrupt, — he announced dramatically, with a voice worthy of an Oscar nomination. — Completely and irreversibly.
Anya, who had been rocking Masha to sleep, froze.
— What happened?
— It all happened! — he slammed his fist on the armrest. — A major client canceled the contract, the tax office slapped us with some insane fines, the bank wants us to pay back the loan early… We’re completely doomed, do you understand?
She understood. And most of all, she understood that Kirill, despite all his talk about «cutting off the unnecessary,» was now in a panic.
— Calm down, — Anya placed the baby in her crib and approached her husband. — Let’s figure this out. What exactly are the company’s debts?
— Millions! — he waved his hands. — We’ve been sued by suppliers, we can’t pay employees’ salaries, the tax office is threatening to seize our accounts… Anya, we’re finished.
She studied him closely. After five years of marriage, she had learned to recognize his moods. When he was truly worried, his left eye would twitch slightly. Now his eye was calm.
— So what do you suggest? — she asked carefully.
— The only way out is complete liquidation of our obligations, — Kirill unexpectedly calmed down and started speaking in a businesslike tone. — We’ll have to sell everything we own. The apartment first.
— This apartment? — Anya clarified. — My grandmother’s apartment, which has nothing to do with your business?
— Not yours, but ours, — he corrected her irritably. — We’re a family. And if we don’t sell it now voluntarily, the bailiffs will come and throw us out. Do you want that?
Anya sat down on the armrest of the nearby chair.
— And what about the money from the sale? Will the creditors take all of it?
Kirill bit his lip, and his gaze shifted to the side.
— Not exactly… — he hesitated. — There’s one option. If we get a divorce before the court proceedings, part of the property will remain with you as it has nothing to do with the business. It’s a standard legal practice.
— A divorce? — Anya raised an eyebrow. — You’re suggesting we divorce to save money?
— It’s a fictitious divorce, silly, — he smiled and took her hand. — Just a legal procedure. We sell the apartment, give part of the money to the creditors, and hide part in your account. Then, once everything settles down, we’ll get remarried. It’s elementary!
Anya looked at his hand holding hers. Too tightly, too confidently for someone whose business was supposedly falling apart.
— Fine, — she finally said. — Let’s talk to a lawyer tomorrow. I want to understand all the details.
— What details? — he frowned. — We don’t have time for lawyers. We need to act quickly.
— I won’t act quickly when it comes to the roof over our daughter’s head, — Anya cut him off, pulling her hand away. — Either we do everything legally and consult with a specialist, or nothing.
Kirill grimaced but didn’t argue. He knew that when it came to some issues, his quiet, obedient wife could be as stubborn as a mule.
The lawyer, an older woman, listened carefully to Kirill’s story about the company’s bankruptcy.
— Strange, — she said, reviewing the documents Kirill had brought. — On paper, your situation seems quite stable. You have debts, but they are not critical for a business of your scale.
— Those are outdated data, — Kirill interrupted. — Things are much worse now. You’d better tell us about the divorce procedure.
The lawyer turned her gaze to Anya.
— Are you sure you want a divorce? Especially with a small child?
— No, — she answered honestly. — But if it’s the only way to protect my daughter from the consequences of bankruptcy…
— There are different ways to protect, — the lawyer tapped the pen on the table. — For example, your apartment, as pre-marital property, is not subject to seizure for your husband’s debts. As long as you didn’t act as a guarantor for any loans.
Anya shook her head.
— No, I didn’t sign anything like that.
— Then why sell the apartment? — the lawyer looked at Kirill questioningly.
— Because under the law, creditors can claim half of the couple’s joint property, — Kirill answered quickly. — And a divorce will at least protect part of it.
— That’s correct, but only for property acquired during the marriage. Pre-marital property is protected as is, — the lawyer turned to Anya. — If the apartment is yours, acquired before marriage, it’s entirely yours. They can’t take it.
Kirill shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
— That’s theoretical. But practically, our courts do whatever they want. Better to be safe.
The lawyer shrugged.
— It’s up to you. But I don’t see any reason for an urgent sale of the apartment.
When they left the office, Kirill was darker than a cloud.
— This idiot doesn’t understand anything about real business, — he hissed. — Listen, let’s just do it the way I say. I’ve thought it all through.
Anya didn’t reply. Too many questions were spinning in her head. If the apartment was protected by law, why sell it? If the company wasn’t in critical condition, where was the panic coming from? And why was Kirill insisting on a quick divorce?
— I need to think, — she finally said. — And talk to my mother.
— What does your mother have to do with this? — Kirill exploded. — These are our family matters!
— She’s a financier with thirty years of experience, — Anya reminded him. — And she loves you like a son. Maybe she’ll have some advice.
It was a lie. Her mother, Elena Viktorovna, couldn’t stand Kirill, considering him an arrogant fool with no real abilities. But Anya knew that her husband was afraid of her mother and tried not to cross her.
— Fine, — Kirill reluctantly agreed. — But don’t take too long. Time is working against us.
Elena Viktorovna, after hearing her daughter’s story, didn’t hide her skepticism.
— Bankruptcy? — she sniffed. — Have you seen any documents confirming that? Notices from the tax office? Court lawsuits? Or just his dramatic stories?
Anya thought. Indeed, she had seen no evidence of the company’s collapse. Only Kirill’s words.
— And why sell your apartment if it’s not subject to seizure by law? — her mother continued. — Even if his business really is going under, your property will remain yours. You got it before marriage.
— Kirill says that in practice, the courts can make a different decision…
— Nonsense! — Elena Viktorovna cut her off. — I’ve worked with bankruptcies for forty years. Pre-marital property is sacred. No court will touch your apartment.
She paused, then added more gently:
— Anya, think for yourself: if a man truly cares about his family, would he insist on selling the only home where his little child lives?
Anya remembered how Kirill had been nervous in the lawyer’s office. How he insisted on a quick divorce. How he avoided specific answers.
— What do you suggest? — she asked quietly.
— Test him, — her mother answered simply. — Tell him you agree to the divorce, but you’ll sell the apartment yourself. And the money will stay in your account until the situation is fully clarified.
— And if he doesn’t agree?
— Then you’ll get answers to all your questions, — Elena Viktorovna stroked her daughter’s hair. — And remember: anytime you can come back to me with Masha. My apartment is big enough for all of us.
— I agree to the divorce, — Anya announced in the evening when Kirill came home. — But I have conditions.
His face lit up:
— Anything, darling! I knew you’d understand!
— I’ll sell the apartment myself, — she said firmly, looking him directly in the eye. — Through the agency my mother recommends. And the money will stay in my account until the official divorce. After that, we’ll decide when I transfer it to you.
Kirill noticeably tensed, his confident smile fading.
— But we need to act quickly. If we wait for your slow agencies…
— Either this, or nothing, — Anya cut him off. — This is my apartment, and I won’t let anyone rush the sale.
That evening, Kirill was unusually accommodating—he put Masha to bed, washed the dishes, and even suggested they watch a movie together. Anya agreed, but her mind was far away. She had already begun to suspect that the bankruptcy story wasn’t quite what Kirill had claimed.
Her suspicions turned into certainty a week later. Masha got sick, and Anya decided to look for a thermometer in her husband’s desk. Instead of a thermometer, she found bank statements—several large transfers marked “For Mom.”
«Why is he secretly transferring money to his mother if the company is on the verge of collapse?»
The next day, Anya, seizing the moment when Kirill was in the shower, checked his phone. The correspondence with his mother confirmed her suspicions: there was no bankruptcy. The company was operating normally, and Kirill had been systematically transferring money to his mother’s account—“for safekeeping,” as he wrote.
«So this is what the story about the fictitious divorce and selling the apartment was about,» Anya thought. Kirill was clearly preparing for an escape, securing himself a «backup airfield.»
It took all her self-control to keep playing the role of the obedient wife. Inside, her anger was growing—not only from the betrayal but also from how easily Kirill had decided to deprive his own daughter of a roof over her head.
A month after the «bankruptcy filing,» his mother suddenly appeared in their apartment with complaints.
— Kirill doesn’t help me anymore, — Nina Petrovna declared, not taking off her coat in the hallway. — And I know who’s to blame.
Anya, rocking the sleepy Masha, raised her eyebrows in surprise:
— What do you mean?
— Don’t pretend! — Nina Petrovna sniffed. — If you had helped your son with the business instead of staying home with the baby, his company wouldn’t have collapsed!
Anya barely held back her laughter:
— Nina Petrovna, are you serious? Kirill insisted I quit my job and focus on the house and the child.
— Everyone says that! But a normal wife should understand that her husband needs help. Instead, you let his business fail! And now he can’t even help his own mother!
Anya carefully placed the sleeping Masha in her crib and stood tall:
— Let’s go to the kitchen. We won’t wake the baby.
When they sat at the table, Anya asked directly:
— Nina Petrovna, do you know that there is no bankruptcy? Kirill’s company is operating as usual.
Nina Petrovna blinked, clearly taken aback:
— What nonsense? Kirill said…
— Kirill says a lot of things, — Anya gently interrupted. — But the documents say otherwise. And your regular transfers from your son also say otherwise.
Nina Petrovna turned red and stared at her cup. It was obvious that she had let something slip.
— I don’t know what you’re talking about, — she mumbled. — Kirill helps me, like any good son. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have problems.
— Nina Petrovna, — Anya leaned forward, — Kirill is planning to divorce me, sell my apartment, and disappear with the money. Are you involved in this?
— How awful! How can you say that about my son? — Nina Petrovna was clearly shocked by the question.
But something in her eyes flickered, something that looked like guilt. She knew. Perhaps not all the details, but the general plan—certainly.
The decision came surprisingly easily. Anya agreed to the expedited divorce procedure that Kirill had been so eager for. He didn’t even demand a division of assets, fearing that the case would drag on.
— I’ll sell the apartment right after the divorce, — she promised. — And the car too.
The car—a costly wedding gift from her father—was worth almost as much as a one-bedroom apartment. Kirill couldn’t hide his satisfied smile.
The divorce was finalized quickly, almost without scandal. Kirill seemed unusually compliant and even agreed to a sizable alimony, though he had no intention of paying it after his planned disappearance.
A week after receiving the divorce certificate, Anya invited her former mother-in-law for tea. And Kirill too.
— I want to discuss selling the apartment and dividing the money, — she explained. — You’re interested too, aren’t you, Nina Petrovna?
Nina Petrovna agreed to come, though she looked cautious. Anya knew that Kirill wouldn’t resist—he had gotten used to thinking of her as weak and obedient, incapable of taking serious steps without his guidance.
When all three were gathered at the table, Anya pulled out a folder of documents:
— I’ve prepared all the papers for the sale. But before that, I want to clarify a few things.
She spread out printouts of messages, bank statements, and photographs.
— Kirill, I know there’s no bankruptcy. I know you’ve been transferring money to your mother’s account. And I know about Sofia, with whom you plan to leave.
At the mention of Sofia, Nina Petrovna flinched:
— What Sofia?
— My assistant, Mom, — Kirill waved dismissively. — Anya’s just gone crazy with jealousy.
— The assistant you’re renting an apartment with on the North side? — Anya laid out a few more photos. — The one you’re choosing furniture with for your new home in Sochi?
Nina Petrovna turned pale:
— Kirill, is this true?
— Nonsense! — he jumped up. — Anya, what kind of circus are you putting on?
— Not a circus, but the truth, — she replied calmly. — You wanted a divorce—now you’ve got it. You wanted my apartment—but you won’t get it. I’m not going anywhere with Masha.
— What about our agreements? — he hissed.
— What agreements, son? — Nina Petrovna intervened. — You promised to sell your wife’s apartment?
Kirill froze, realizing he had painted himself into a corner.
— It was a temporary measure, Mom. To protect the assets from creditors…
— What creditors? — his mother raised her voice. — You said the company is doing fine, you just wanted to secure the capital! And now it turns out you were planning to rob your own wife and abandon your daughter?
Anya silently watched as the house of cards Kirill had built collapsed. It all went even better than she had expected.
In the next two weeks, Kirill’s life fell apart completely. His mother, who adored her granddaughter, kicked him out of her apartment, where he had temporarily moved after the divorce.
— I don’t want to see someone who’s ready to deprive his own child of a roof over her head, — she declared, refusing to let him cross the threshold. — And I’ll return every penny to you. It’s shameful that my son turned out this way…
The word with which she ended her sentence, Anya didn’t even think about repeating.
Then, at Kirill’s company, a real crisis began—large contracts fell through one after another, the best employees started quitting, and competitors suddenly slashed prices below cost.
Anya didn’t play at nobility. After the divorce, she secured the division of her husband’s business assets through the court, proving his attempt to hide property before the divorce. The share she received was immediately sold to Kirill’s main competitors—those who were now pushing him out of the market.
Sofia, the embodiment of the «real woman who can support,» disappeared from Kirill’s life when his bank account ran dry. She left a note in the rented apartment: «Losers don’t even have luck in love.»
Six months later, Nina Petrovna stood at the door of her former daughter-in-law’s apartment with a bag of groceries and a toy for her granddaughter.
— May I come in? — she asked uncertainly.
Anya silently stepped back, letting her in. They hadn’t spoken in several months after Kirill finally went bankrupt.
— I know you have every right to hate me, — Nina Petrovna began. — What Kirill did… what we both did… is unforgivable.
— He’s your son, — Anya shrugged. — You wanted to help him.
— I didn’t know the whole truth, — Nina Petrovna shook her head. — I didn’t know about the mistress, the plans to take the apartment from you. Kirill said he just wanted to protect the money from the tax office.
Anya started boiling the kettle:
— You don’t have to justify yourself.
— I do, — Nina Petrovna said firmly. — Because I raised my son wrong. I always indulged his selfishness, his feeling that everyone owes him. And here’s the result—he lost everything he had.
They sat in silence. The sound of little Masha snoring from the nursery filled the room.
— You know, — Nina Petrovna continued, — when I found out that my son was ready to deprive his own daughter of a roof over her head, I realized I couldn’t forgive him. Betraying the family is a line that can’t be crossed.
She awkwardly handed Anya a small box:
— These are my earrings, my grandmother’s. I want them to go to Masha. So at least something… at least some part of our family stays with her.
Anya carefully took the box. Inside were indeed antique silver earrings with garnets—she had seen them in photographs of Kirill’s great-grandmother.
— Thank you, — she said softly. — Masha will be happy to see you. She misses you.
— Really? — Nina Petrovna’s eyes sparkled with tears. — Can I… can I visit her sometimes?
— Of course, — Anya nodded. — After all, she’s your granddaughter.
Her former mother-in-law nodded gratefully, understanding that she had received more than she deserved—a second chance to be part of her granddaughter’s life.
