— Marina, I can’t. Understand, I’m not able to be with a person who… is disabled.
Artyom said this almost in a whisper, not looking at her, but at the wheelchair standing nearby — someone else’s, hateful. He looked at it like a beast that had torn apart their future.
Marina sat silently, the white walls of the hospital room blurring before her eyes from hot tears. In her head, the deafening roar of the accident still echoed, but it was nothing compared to the killing silence hanging between them now.
Just a month ago, they had chosen wedding rings together. A month ago they were arguing about which wallpaper to put in the nursery, laughing and dreaming about life. Artyom carried her in his arms around their small apartment and swore it would always be like that.
But the road happened. A stranger’s car, rushing into the oncoming lane like a bullet. A deafening impact. Darkness soaked with the smell of gasoline and blood.
And then the diagnosis. Not from the doctors in white coats — from the person he loved most, whose eyes were now colder than ice.
— Artyom… but we love each other… — she whispered, her voice trembling along with her whole body. Something animalistic and painful clenched inside her. She caught his gaze, hoping to find there at least a trace of their former love.
— We loved, — he cut her off harshly. — I loved a woman I could travel with, climb mountains with, build a life with. But you… you no longer fit into my life. I have goals, a career, dreams. Sorry, but the truth is bitter, yet honest.
There was not a trace of compassion in his eyes. Only calculated irritation and fear for his own future, which, as he thought, was ruined.
She still tried to hold on to him like a drowning person grasps the last straw. Hoping to reach the Artyom she once knew.
— I can stand up! There’s a chance! I just need your support, Tyoma… please…
This plea was his breaking point. His face twisted. False patience disappeared, and he snapped:
— What chances?! Didn’t you hear the doctors? There aren’t any! We’ve already tried everything, spent a ton of money — and nothing! I’m tired. Tired of waiting for a miracle that won’t come. I can’t live like this anymore!
Breathing heavily, he fell silent, having poured out his rage. Marina sat crushed by his words. Tears flowed, but she still whispered:
— I don’t need a miracle… Just you. Just be near me. With you, I can cope… Please…
These words, full of faith, finally pushed him over the edge. Her dependence disgusted him. He decided not just to leave — he wanted to destroy her completely.
— Support? — he grimaced, and that grimace was scarier than any scream. — So I walk you through clinics and change your catheter? You’re now a useless burden. Understand? A burden I’m not going to carry my whole life.
“Useless burden.”
Those words hit harder than the collision of metal that day. They tore the heart apart. The breath stopped. The whole world shrank to his cruel words.
He placed the apartment keys on the bedside table. The sound was dry and final — the sound of an end.
— I moved out. Took my things. Don’t look for me. Goodbye.
He left without even looking back. His footsteps echoed down the corridor and in her emptied soul. Marina stared at the closed door and cried silently, like a wounded animal.
The first weeks she existed in endless darkness. She didn’t want to see the ceiling of the ward, the sympathetic faces of nurses, her mother’s grief in the corridor. She didn’t want to see that cursed chair that had become her prison.
But somewhere deep at the bottom of despair, when she no longer had strength even to breathe, something new began to stir inside. Cold, ringing rage.
One day, she accidentally saw a photo of Artyom in a magazine — he was laughing at a social event next to a beautiful girl. At that moment something inside exploded. Tears gave way to determination.
Useless burden? She would prove otherwise. To herself, to him, to the whole world.
First thing after discharge, she sold the engagement ring he never took. With the money she bought a powerful computer.
Before the accident, she had been a talented IT analyst but worked “for others.” Now she only had time, a sharp mind, and all-consuming rage.
She worked eighteen hours a day, forgetting to eat and sleep. The world shrank to the screen, lines of code, and graphs.
And she created a unique software product — analytical software capable of predicting financial market fluctuations with incredible accuracy.
To keep her condition secret, she chose a pseudonym.
Thus was born a legend in the business world — the mysterious and unreachable “Lady Venus,” a financial genius who never appeared in person, communicating only via video link from a high chair half hidden in shadow.
A year passed. Artyom’s affairs went from bad to worse. His relationship with the daughter of an influential official collapsed like a house of cards when it became clear he was not a future oligarch, but just a dreamer.
The firm he had proudly and hopefully started after breaking up with Marina was now on the brink of collapse. Partners ran off, investors demanded money back, creditors threatened court. He panicked, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
One evening in a dim bar, one of his former colleagues, already fairly drunk, sneered:
— Heard about Lady Venus? They say she can save even something sinking. But you, Sokolov, are as far from her as the moon — not your level. You’re not just down — you’re bottom of the barrel.
Those words hit Artyom harder than bankruptcy. It was the last straw. For a whole week he humiliated himself: calling old contacts, begging, offering percentages, flattering — all to get a meeting with this mysterious woman.
After dozens of referrals, he was granted an appointment at the most fashionable business center in the city. He cleaned his best suit, rehearsed his pitiful speech for hours in front of the mirror, ready to fall to his knees and beg for help.
He imagined a strict, experienced businesswoman who valued strength and determination.
A luxurious office on the top floor. Panoramic windows opening a view of the entire city. Behind a huge black wooden desk, in a massive chair, back to the entrance, sat a woman. She looked at the city as if holding it in her palm.
Artyom entered, his heart beating so loudly it drowned out his thoughts. He took a deep breath and began:
— Lady Venus… Hello. I’m Artyom Sokolov. You are my last hope. My business is collapsing, I’m on the brink of financial disaster… But I know you can do anything. Your talent is legendary. Please help me…
He spoke at length, almost hysterically, listing his problems, blaming partners, complaining about fate, begging for help. The woman didn’t move, listening silently. It seemed like a sign of attention, and he continued even more desperately.
When he finished, his voice trembled, his face flushed with humiliation and fear. The chair slowly, without a sound, turned around.
Artyom froze. Sitting before him was Marina. The very same. But completely different. Cold, confident, with the gleam of a victor in her eyes.
Only she wasn’t sitting in an ordinary office chair but in the most modern wheelchair, trimmed with leather and metal. It didn’t look like a symbol of defeat — rather a throne of a queen who rules her world.
His breath caught. A memory flashed — hospital, her tears, his cruel words…
— Ma… Marina? Is that you? How?.. — he barely whispered.
She slowly looked him over from head to toe — worn suit, sunken cheeks, eyes full of pain and hope.
— Help? — she asked coldly, with a hint of contempt. — Why should I waste time on something that doesn’t bring profit?
Pressing a button on the armrest, she called security. The door silently opened, and two large men in strict suits entered.
— See Mr. Sokolov out. His time is up.
Artyom stood paralyzed. Only when the guards took him by the arms did Marina add, not taking her eyes off him:
— To my company, he is a useless burden.
A month later, Artyom’s firm officially went bankrupt. He lost everything — business, connections, self-respect. They say he returned to his parents in the province and works as a manager in a local appliance store.
And Marina, now known to the entire business world as “Lady Venus,” became one of the most influential figures in finance.
She devoted part of her fortune to creating a high-tech rehabilitation center for people with disabilities. Not revenge — help. She didn’t want to take revenge. She simply proved to the world, and above all to herself, that real strength is not in the body but in an unshakable character.
And that no pain, no betrayal can break the spirit if faith and fire live within it.
