Roman froze in the middle of the living room of their two-story house. Surprise flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by anger. He hadn’t expected his wife to know about Kristina.
“What are you talking about? What lover?” he tried to sound indignant, but it came out unconvincing.
Anna slowly turned to him. There wasn’t a single tear in her brown eyes—only icy contempt.
“DON’T, Roman. Just don’t. I’ve known about Kristina for six months. I know about the apartment you rent for her. About the gifts. About your ‘business trips’ to Sochi.”
The man flushed dark red. It always infuriated him when his wife turned out to be smarter than he thought. Thirty-eight years old, owner of a chain of car dealerships—he was used to everyone dancing to his tune. Money opened any door, solved any problem. But not this time.
“Fine, LET’S SAY I do have… a relationship on the side,” he ground out through his teeth. “But what does that have to do with the money? I have my own business, I earn my own way!”
Anna smirked. Thirty-five years old, a housewife—that’s how he introduced her to his friends. A silly hen who sits at home and spends his money. If only he knew…
“Your business?” She walked over to the bar and poured herself some mineral water. “Remind me, whose money did you use to open your first dealership ten years ago?”
“My father-in-law’s,” Roman admitted reluctantly. “But I paid him back long ago!”
“Paid back?” Anna shook her head. “You repaid the LOAN that Dad took out using his company as collateral. And who was the guarantor? Me. And when two years ago you almost went bankrupt because of your little adventures with grey schemes, who pulled you out?”
“ENOUGH!” Roman roared, slamming his fist on the table. “That’s all in the past! Right now everything’s great, business is booming!”
“Booming?” Anna took a tablet out of her purse. “Want to see the reports? Minus three million last quarter. Debts to suppliers—five million. Loans—seven. That makes…”
“WHERE did you get this data?!” Roman snatched the tablet from her and hurled it onto the couch.
“I’m just a stupid housewife, remember?” Anna said mockingly. “Who’s been doing all the accounting for your companies for ten years. Unofficially, of course. Because officially it’s your buddy Igor who works there, the one who can tell debit from credit only after his third shot of vodka.”
Roman was silent, breathing heavily. It enraged him that his wife was right. That she knew everything. That without her he would’ve gone under long ago.
“Kristina needs surgery,” he finally forced out. “A serious one. In Germany. Two million rubles.”
“And you want me to give you that money?” Anna laughed. “WHY ON EARTH would I do that?”
“Because… because this is a matter of life and death!”
“Whose death? The one who six months ago was posting photos on Instagram with my husband captioned ‘My love’? The one who called me and said I was an old cow who couldn’t keep a man?”
Roman choked. He hadn’t known Kristina had called his wife.
“She… she was drunk…”
“She was BRAZEN,” Anna cut him off. “Just like you. You both decided I was nothing. Furniture you don’t even have to notice. Well then GET OUT, both of you, to hell!”
The next morning Roman woke up in the guest bedroom with a terrible headache. After yesterday’s conversation he’d gotten drunk and didn’t even remember how he made it to bed.
Going down to the kitchen, he found Anna there. She was calmly drinking coffee and reading some documents.
“Good morning,” he muttered dryly, pouring himself some water.
“Morning,” she responded, without lifting her eyes from the papers.
“Listen, Anna… Let’s talk calmly. No shouting, no insults.”
His wife raised her eyes to him. There was a hint of curiosity in them.
“Go on.”
“I admit I was wrong. The affair with Kristina is a mistake. But right now we’re talking about a human life! She has a brain tumor. If she doesn’t have surgery in the next two weeks…”
“She’ll die,” Anna finished for him. “And?”
Roman couldn’t believe his ears.
“What do you mean, ‘and?’ You’re not a monster!”
“I’m not a monster. I’m a woman whose husband betrayed her. Who was humiliated and laughed at. Your Kristina knew you were married. She knew, and she DIDN’T CARE. She wanted money, a beautiful life, status. Well, life is a fair thing.”
“You’re just jealous!” Roman exploded. “Jealous that she’s young and beautiful, and you…”
“And I what?” Anna got up from the table. “Old? Ugly? Maybe. But I have something your Kristina doesn’t. MONEY. And power over you.”
“What do you mean?”
Anna walked over to the safe, entered the code, and took out a thick folder.
“These are copies of all the documents for your business. Or rather, for MY business. Because all the companies are registered to me. At your request, remember? So that if anything happened the creditors couldn’t seize them. Remember?”
Roman remembered. Three years ago, when he’d had trouble with debts, he’d transferred everything into his wife’s name. Later, when things improved, he’d meant to transfer it back, but never got around to it. And Anna never reminded him.
“So what? Tomorrow we’ll go to the notary and fix it!”
“NO,” Anna cut in. “We won’t. And we won’t fix anything. You see, dear, while you were having fun with Kristina, I wasn’t wasting time. All your companies have been re-registered. New founding documents. New seals. And you’re not even listed there as an employee.”
“YOU COULDN’T HAVE!” Roman bellowed. “You need my signature for that!”
“My signature?” Anna pulled out another folder. “Here are your signatures. On all the documents. You never read what you sign. ‘Anya, there are some papers on the table, sign them for me.’ Remember? Well, I did have them signed. Not for you, but by you yourself. Just not on the papers you thought.”
Roman grabbed the documents and started leafing through them. His face grew paler and paler.
“This… this is FRAUD!”
“Prove it,” Anna shrugged. “An expert will confirm the signatures are authentic. Witnesses will confirm you were of sound mind and clear memory. By the way, your friend Igor will confirm it, too. I gave him a bonus. A big one.”
“Bitch…” Roman hissed. “You planned all of this!”
“Not all of it,” Anna admitted. “Kristina and her tumor I didn’t plan. That’s just… a bonus. Karma, if you like.”
“I’ll sue you! I’ll prove you tricked me!”
“Go ahead. Just keep in mind—while the case is in court, all the company accounts will be frozen. There won’t be any money to pay salaries. Suppliers will demand immediate repayment of debts. In a month there’ll be nothing left of your empire but debt. Which, by the way, is all in your name. Personal guarantees, remember?”
Roman paced the office. A week had passed since that conversation. Kristina was calling ten times a day, crying, begging him to get the money. The doctors gave her at most a month without surgery.
He tried to find the money elsewhere. Banks refused—there was nothing left to use as collateral, all the assets were in Anna’s name. His friends just spread their hands—no one had that kind of cash. Sell something from the business? But the business wasn’t his anymore.
Humiliation was choking him. All his life he’d thought he was in control. A successful businessman, a handsome man everyone envied. And he’d turned out to be a puppet in the hands of his own wife. The same wife he despised for her “petty bourgeois” ways and “limited mind.”
The phone rang again. Kristina.
“Roma, well? Any news? The doctors say I have to go urgently, they’ve just had a spot open up…”
“Kristina, I… I still can’t get the money.”
“WHAT do you mean, you can’t?! You told me you had a million-ruble business! What kind of man are you if you can’t help the woman you love?!”
“Don’t yell at me!” Roman snapped. “I’m doing everything I can!”
“It’s not enough! You’re doing TOO LITTLE! Your wife is probably walking around in furs while I’m here dying! You know what? If you don’t get the money, I’ll tell her everything! About us, about the apartment, about everything!”
“She already knows,” Roman said wearily.
“What? And she… she didn’t throw you out?”
“No. It’s more profitable for her to keep me on a short leash.”
“Then… then I’ll tell all your business partners! I’ll post our photos online! I’ll make such a scandal your reputation will…”
“SHUT UP!” Roman barked. “Just shut up! You think you’re the only one so clever? You think you’ll get anything by blackmailing me?”
“I’m dying, Roma! DYING! And you don’t care!”
“I do care, but I’m not a magician! There is NO money!”
“Then let your wifey pay! She’s rich, isn’t she, if she keeps you on a leash? Ask her, beg her, get down on your knees!”
Roman hung up. Get down on his knees in front of Anna? NEVER. He’d rather die.
That evening he came home completely shattered. Anna was sitting in the living room, watching some talk show.
“You look terrible,” she remarked without turning around.
“What’s it to you?”
“Nothing. Just stating a fact. By the way, Kristina called. On the landline.”
Roman flinched.
“And what did she want?”
“Money, of course. Said you promised but aren’t delivering. Called you a weakling and a nothing. And me—an old toad sitting on a pile of cash.”
“Anna, listen…”
“NO, you listen,” she turned off the TV and faced him. “Your girl made me an offer. I give the money for the surgery, and she disappears from your life forever. Moves to another city and never shows up again.”
Roman’s heart skipped a beat.
“And… and what did you say?”
“What do you think?” Anna smiled. “Of course I agreed.”
“Really?!” Roman couldn’t believe his ears. “You’ll give the money?”
“I will. But on conditions.”
Here it was. Roman knew nothing ever came for free.
“What conditions?”
“First—you sign a property division agreement. Everything that’s in my name stays mine. You get your personal belongings and a car. One. Not the most expensive.”
“That’s robbery!”
“That’s justice. Second—divorce. No scandals, no claims. We quietly move out and each live our own life.”
“What about the business? People work there!”
“The business will stay. I’ll hire a proper manager. Maybe I’ll even keep you. On a salary. If you behave yourself.”
Roman clenched his teeth. Going from owner to salaried employee for his own wife? That was worse than death.
“Do I have a choice?”
“There’s always a choice,” Anna noted philosophically. “You can refuse. Then Kristina will die, you’ll be left with nothing, and I’ll file for divorce anyway. Only through the courts this time, with division of debts. And you have twelve million in debts, if you recall.”
Signing the documents was scheduled for the next day. Roman didn’t sleep all night, trying to think his way out of the situation. But there was no way out. Anna had cornered him like a chess player corners the opposing king.
In the morning the notary arrived—an expensive, trusted one who’d worked with their family for many years. An elderly man.
“Good afternoon, Anna Sergeyevna, Roman Viktorovich. Good to see you. So, a property division agreement?”
“Yes, Semyon Petrovich,” Anna nodded. “My husband and I decided to put our property relations in order.”
“Commendable, commendable. Very sensible these days.”
Roman sat as if on needles. Sign the death sentence to his own well-being? But he had no choice. Kristina was waiting.
“Roman Viktorovich, have you read the document?” the notary asked.
“Yes,” he squeezed out.
“Are you signing voluntarily, without coercion?”
Roman looked at Anna. She was calmly drinking tea, as if this were about buying a washing machine.
“Voluntarily,” he lied.
Signatures, stamps, “I wish you happiness and prosperity.” The notary left, having handed over copies of the documents.
“Now the money,” Roman demanded.
“Of course,” Anna took out her phone. “I’ll transfer it now. To the clinic’s account or to Kristina’s?”
“To the clinic’s. I’ll give you the details.”
Five minutes later the transfer was complete. Two million rubles left for the German clinic’s account.
“That’s it,” Anna said. “Your girl will live. You can go to her.”
“She’s flying out tomorrow.”
“Perfect. Then you have time to pack. I expect you to move out by the end of the week.”
“MOVE OUT?! You’re throwing me out of my own house?!”
“Out of MY house,” Anna corrected him. “You signed the documents. The house is mine now. Like everything else.”
Roman jumped up, knocking over his chair.
“You can’t do this! This is our home! We built it together!”
“We built it with my money. Or rather, with my father’s money. And it’s registered to me. So yes—I can. Go on, pack up. I’ll leave you the studio apartment on Rechnaya. Remember, we used to rent it out? Now you’ll live there.”
“A studio? Thirty square meters?!”
“For a bachelor it’s perfect. Or would you prefer the street?”
Roman understood—she was serious. She could call security and have him thrown out. And she’d be in the right, legally.
“You’ll pay for this,” he hissed. “I swear, you’ll pay!”
“Is that a threat?” Anna picked up her phone. “I can record this and bring it to the police. Threats are a criminal offense.”
Roman clenched his fists but kept silent. Any careless word now could cost him the last shreds of freedom.
The next day he packed the essentials and left. Kristina flew to Germany without even saying goodbye—she just sent a short “thank you” in a messenger.
The apartment on Rechnaya turned out to be a shabby hole with peeling walls and a dripping faucet. After a three-story mansion, it was like moving from a palace to a chicken coop.
Roman took out the whiskey—the only expensive thing he’d brought with him. He poured half a glass and downed it.
His phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number.
“Hi, loser. How’s the new life?”
“Who the hell is this?”
Another message. A photo. Kristina hugging some man. The caption: “Thanks for the money. The surgery went great. By the way, meet my husband Oleg. He’s grateful too.”
Roman couldn’t believe his eyes. Husband?!
The phone rang. Unknown number.
“Hello!”
“Hey, Roma,” came a mocking male voice. “This is Oleg. Kristina’s husband. I wanted to thank you for paying for the surgery. We’ve been married a year now, but we didn’t have the money for treatment. And then you showed up, so generous. Sure, you used my wife for six months, but that’s nothing. The main thing is she’s healthy now, and we can live our lives in peace. We’re planning kids, can you imagine?”
“You… you used me! You tricked me!”
“And what did you think—that a knockout like Kristina could really fall in love with a pot-bellied forty-year-old uncle like you? Don’t be ridiculous. You were a wallet, Roma. A walking ATM. And thanks for coughing up the right amount at the right time. Bye!”
The line went dead. Roman hurled the phone at the wall. It shattered into pieces.
A month passed. Roman got a job as a sales manager at a dealership—someone else’s, not his own. Anna had kept her word about working for her companies—she didn’t hire him. Said she’d changed her mind. Let him start from scratch, like normal people.
The manager’s salary barely covered food and utilities. His former luxurious life was now just a memory.
One evening there was a knock at the door. Roman opened it. Anna was standing there. But not the Anna he’d known. An expensive dress, professional makeup, styled hair. She’d lost weight and looked ten years younger.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I come in?”
“Why are you here? To admire my downfall?”
“No. I came to tell you something. And to make an offer.”
Roman reluctantly let her in. Anna looked around and grimaced slightly.
“How do you even live here?”
“What do you care? You’re the one who put me here.”
“You put yourself here,” she corrected him. “With your greed, laziness, and arrogance. But that’s not the point. Remember you said I was jealous of Kristina? That she’s young and pretty?”
“So what?”
“So… Kristina is me.”
Roman didn’t get it.
“What do you mean?”
Anna took out her phone and opened a photo. Kristina’s face appeared on the screen, but… something was off.
“Look more closely,” Anna suggested.
Roman took the phone and zoomed in. And gaped. It was Anna. In a wig, with different makeup, colored contacts. But it was her.
“HOW?!”
“Drama club in my youth. Plus a good makeup artist and a bit of acting. Changing the voice is harder, but you never heard us at the same time, did you?”
“But… but we… we slept together!”
“In the dark. You always turned off the light, remember? And you were always drunk. In the morning I’d disappear ‘to work.’ In reality I went home and turned back into your boring wife.”
Roman slid down the wall to the floor.
“Why? WHY did you do this?”
“I wanted to test you. To see whether you were capable of real feelings. Or if all that mattered to you was the wrapping. Youth, beauty, passion. Turns out it’s just the wrapping. You never once asked about my—I mean ‘Kristina’s’—thoughts, dreams, plans. Just sex and expensive gifts.”
“And the illness? The surgery?”
“There was no illness. I sent the money to charity. To a children’s hospice. In your name, by the way. You can be proud—you saved three kids.”
“You… you’re a MONSTER!”
“No. I’m a woman who put up with humiliation for ten years. A woman you treated like furniture. A woman you cheated on left and right, thinking I was stupid and noticed nothing. I just gave you back what you deserved. With interest.”
“And the man in the photo? Oleg?”
“My cousin. An actor. I asked him to play a part. He’s thrilled—says he hasn’t had that much fun in years.”
Roman looked at his wife—no, his ex-wife—and didn’t recognize her. This was a completely different woman. Smart, cunning, ruthless.
“What do you want from me?” he asked wearily.
“Nothing. I just decided you should know the truth. And also—I have a proposal.”
“What proposal?”
“Come back. Not as a husband—as a partner. You’ll manage the dealerships. I see the reports—without you, sales dropped twelve percent. You’re a good salesman, Roma. A lousy husband, but a good salesman.”
“Why on earth should I work for you?”
“What are your options?” Anna shrugged. “You’ll get a percentage of the profits.”
Roman was silent, digesting what he’d heard. His pride screamed, “Tell her to shove it!” Cold reason was calculating: rent, food, bills—his current salary barely covered survival.
“Think about it,” Anna headed for the door. “The offer stands for a week.”
“Wait,” Roman stopped her. “If I… if I agree… Will we ever…”
“No,” she cut him off harshly. “Never. You killed everything that was between us. But I’m not vindictive. Just smart. I need a competent manager, not a husband.”
The door closed. Roman was left alone in the cramped apartment where even the walls seemed to press in on him mockingly.
He poured the remaining whiskey and raised the glass.
“Fucking bitch,” he muttered, but without his old venom. There was almost a note of weary admiration in his voice. “She outplayed me completely.”
And yet… Somewhere deep inside, under layers of humiliation and wounded pride, there flickered a strange sense of gratitude. Anna could have crushed him completely. But she’d given him a chance. A last one.
He picked up his broken phone, turned on his laptop. He needed to answer. Before the week was up.
Anna was driving her new Mercedes, smiling. A cheerful song played on the radio. The lights of the evening city flashed by outside—their city.
For ten years she’d been a shadow. Now she was the mistress of her own life.
Her phone vibrated. A message from her brother: “You deserve an Oscar, sis. Brilliant performance.”
Anna laughed. Yes, she’d performed. And she’d won. Freedom, respect, and herself.
As for Roman… Whether he came back or not no longer mattered. She no longer depended on his choice.
Ahead lay a new life. Finally, her own
