Anna parked her black BMW by the gates of the country house and let out a long breath. It had been a brutal day—an audit meeting, urgent reports for her father, a tense call with the bank about the loan to expand the warehouse. All she wanted now was a glass of dry red wine, a hot bath, and a cuddle session with her cat.
“Lyosh, I’m home!” she called out, slipping off her blazer and setting her bag on the bench.
No answer. Only a muffled voice drifted from the study—the door was closed, but not all the way. Anna tiptoed closer, ready to crack a joke or sneak up and kiss her husband on the neck. But her steps slowed when she caught a familiar name.
“…Yeah, Mom, she bought it,” Alexey’s voice was one she’d never heard before—cold, dry, чужой. “She said she wants to get you a gift. Can you imagine? Buying a dacha. The one by the lake, remember?”
Galina Ivanovna laughed into the receiver, her voice clear.
“Well, that’s perfect. Let her buy it. Just don’t forget: register the house in your name right away, otherwise she’ll try to claw it back. And hurry up with that divorce, Lyosha—how much longer are you going to drag this out?”
Anna froze. Something inside her snapped, as if someone had abruptly muted the sound of her life. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
“Wait, Mom, I’ll just—” Alexey pulled the phone away and, without looking, hit “end call.” He missed. Or not fully. Or the app didn’t close. Anna didn’t know. But she knew one thing for sure: she’d heard everything.
She walked back to the entryway, took out her phone, and in absolute silence recorded a voice message to her lawyer:
“Lena, we need to meet urgently. Tomorrow. I’m filing for divorce. And one more thing… handle the division of property. Everything needs to be documented as fast as possible.”
In the morning Alexey found Anna in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. She was composed—makeup flawless, eyes ледяные.
“Good mor—” he began, but Anna подняла руку.
“Don’t. I heard everything. You didn’t manage to switch it off.”
“What are you—” he started uncertainly. “Listen, you just misunderstood—”
“Stop. I’m a grown woman, Lyosha. And you’re a pathetic coward. I’m filing for divorce. Today. And you’re moving out. Today.”
When Alexey brought his things to his mother’s apartment on the outskirts, Galina Ivanovna met him with the face of a victor.
“Is it done?” she asked, lips tight.
“No,” he snapped. “Nothing went according to plan. She filed for divorce before I managed to register anything. The lawyers say I’m getting nothing.”
“How—nothing?!” his mother’s voice shot up into hysteria. “We agreed on this! You were supposed to convince her—make her sign everything over to you: the apartment, the shares, the car, the jewelry… We planned it all out!”
Alexey sank onto a chair and covered his face with his hands.
“She’s not who we thought she was. Too smart. She documented everything. Locked everything down. She knew. She knew before I even walked back into the room.”
Galina Ivanovna swore. Then went quiet. Then boiled over.
“It’s all her father. We should’ve gone through him from the start. Manipulate him. Pressure him. He’s old, weak. The business doesn’t work without her—he would’ve forced her. But you, as always…”
Alexey slammed his fist on the table.
“Enough! It’s over. She’s not just smart—she’s ruthless. Everything’s already with the notary. I’m nobody now. I don’t even have a car anymore—she drove off in it today.”
Galina Ivanovna fell silent. Only her взгляд darted around. It wasn’t the look of a mother grieving her son’s mistake. It was the look of a predator searching for her next move.
Anna sat in her father’s office, staring silently at his hands—fingers interlaced in a tight clasp. His face was tense, but calm.
“Are you sure you want to do this officially through court? He’ll get nothing.”
“I want it to be an example, Dad. For everyone. Neither Alexey nor his mother will ever try to climb onto my back again. And for others, too—no one is going to lay claim to my money ever again.”
“And what about the dacha?” her father asked, the corner of his mouth twitching. “The gift was almost ready.”
Anna smirked.
“I’ll redo the paperwork in my name. And I’ll make the house for myself. No guests. Especially not anyone with the surname Galkin.”
Her father nodded.
“I’m proud of you, доченька. And… don’t forget: you can always count on me.”
Anna left the office feeling strength at her back. This wasn’t just a divorce. It was a war. And she had won the first battle.
But Galina Ivanovna hadn’t surrendered. And she wasn’t the type to disappear into the shadows without a fight…
Two weeks passed since Anna filed for divorce. Everything was going to plan: her lawyer worked clean and fast, the assets were protected, accounts frozen, the company’s charter capital reallocated into shares held by her father and Anna. Alexey was cut off from everything—both the business and the money.
Anna slipped back into her routine. Mornings—meetings with suppliers. Afternoons—briefings with lawyers about the new logistics hub project. Evenings—the gym and solitude in a new apartment where not a single item reminded her of her ex-husband. She even replaced the coffee machine.
She thought the hardest part was over.
She was wrong.
On Friday, close to midnight, Anna sat on the couch with a glass of wine, mentally running through tomorrow’s tasks, when her phone vibrated. An unknown number. She figured it was spam—but answered anyway.
“Anna Vladimirovna?” The voice was familiar—raspy, with smoky, cigarette-worn notes. “This is Boris, from your security. We haven’t crossed paths in a while, but… I have urgent information.”
“Go on,” she said, instantly alert.
“Tonight I saw Galina Ivanovna. She met with your former driver, Nikolai. By the roadside café. They were talking about the dacha keys. Nikolai got an envelope from her. And… documents for the car. The one you and Alexey used to share. Looks like she wants to re-register it through him.”
Anna went still.
“The car is in my name. And it’s on a guarded lot under camera. They can’t—”
“If the papers are forged, they can. And if Nikolai shows up with a tow truck and a power of attorney, security won’t check too hard. Especially on a Friday night.”
Anna swore under her breath.
“Thank you, Boris. I’ll handle it from here.”
She opened her laptop and checked the car’s GPS access—everything looked fine. The car was still parked by her building. But for how long?
The next day she filed a police report—for attempted fraud and document forgery. Her lawyers added two more points: conspiracy to steal property and violation of the divorce agreement conditions, in which Alexey had pledged not to make claims to joint property.
Galina Ivanovna bet on brute force again—and miscalculated again.
But that was only the first act.
On Monday Anna arrived at work and found a woman at reception with a short haircut and aggressive makeup. She was holding a thick folder and demanding something from the secretary.
“And you are?” Anna asked, stepping closer.
“I’m Galina Ivanovna’s new attorney,” the woman replied flatly. “I’m here with claims. My client asserts that during the marriage your husband, Alexey, entrusted you for safekeeping with family valuables: a set of jewelry allegedly inherited from his grandmother. The items have supposedly disappeared. We demand that you return them or compensate their value.”
Anna laughed.
“Seriously? That costume-jewelry set from ‘Moscow Jewelry’ he bought her for her anniversary is ‘an inheritance’ now?”
“Are you confirming the existence of the items?” the attorney pressed sharply.
Anna leaned in.
“Everything is documented. Photos, receipts, insurance. All of it. I returned them before filing for divorce. Handed them directly to Alexey—there’s a receipt. My lawyer has a copy. If you want to play games—go ahead. Just know this: I play better.”
The woman’s lips tightened, and she left.
By evening that same day, Anna received an email from a notary. Her mother, who had passed away five years earlier, had left Anna a portion of shares in a major construction company. Anna had always thought it was a small holding. But now she learned the shares had surged in value.
Their market value now exceeded 40 million rubles.
The next day a piece appeared in the media on a regional portal:
“Family Secrets of Millionaires: How a Business Heiress Hides Assets from Her Ex-Husband.”
Anna read the article. It included names, dates, snide insinuations. The source? An anonymous “close relative” of the Galkin family. Sue? Pointless—technically it wasn’t libel.
Anna’s father called her into his office.
“It’s her,” he said, nodding at the printout. “Your ex mother-in-law. She won’t stop until she gets either compensation or humiliation. Or both.”
Anna nodded.
“Then we take away the last thing she’s clinging to. There’s one thing left—her illusion that she can manipulate people.”
“What are you planning?”
“The dacha,” Anna said. “She thought it would be her fortress. Let it become my площадка.”
“You wanted to keep it for rest.”
Anna looked out the window. Outside it was summer—dust, heat, the road Alexey had driven down for the last time.
“I’ll convert it into an office for a foundation that protects women from family fraud and property blackmail. I’ll name it after Mom. Galina Ivanovna will see it. And she’ll understand she lost окончательно.”
That same evening, through her lawyers, Anna sent an official request to block any actions involving the car, the jewelry, the dacha plot, and the bank accounts of her ex-husband and his mother. Any possible claims were filed in court as counterclaims.
And Galina Ivanovna… hired a new attorney. More experienced. More aggressive.
He arrived in the city two days later. And the first thing he did was request a review of the divorce settlement terms, citing “moral pressure” and “hidden assets.”
Anna watched it like a chess match. She knew they had no real moves—only noise, manipulation, and грязь.
But then… something happened that she didn’t expect.
A man in a strict suit with a briefcase appeared at her office. He introduced himself as an employee of the notarial chamber. He said that in her mother’s case file they had discovered a new will—an unknown document, notarized a month before her mother’s death. And it stated that part of the inheritance… was to be transferred to “a future grandchild, born within the marriage of Anna Vladimirovna and Alexey Sergeyevich Galkin.”
Anna went pale.
“What nonsense is this? We weren’t planning to have children. He didn’t even want to hear about it!” she whispered, voice tight.
“Nevertheless, the document is certified. And if Alexey decides to challenge it, he may lay claim to part of the inheritance—provided that… he proves pregnancy or potential paternity.”
Anna’s hands clenched into fists.
This was no longer just a game for money.
It became a war for the right to be herself.
Anna didn’t believe it at first.
A future grandchild? A will with wording that could never have existed? Her mother had died a year before Anna and Alexey had even started talking about the possibility of a child.
She knew Alexey was категорически against children for the next few years. He said he “wasn’t ready for fatherhood.” They fought about it. Once they even seriously discussed breaking up.
And now—he was ready to use a child that had never existed to get into her inheritance?
It was rock bottom.
Alexey resurfaced a couple of days later. He called her himself. She’d blocked his number, but he found a way through another SIM.
“Anna, we need to talk. No lawyers. No cameras. Just you and me.”
“You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m going to listen to you again,” she said.
“Please… just once. One evening. I need to explain something. You don’t know everything. Not about the will. Not about your mother. Not about… me.”
Fate had it that she agreed anyway.
They met in a public restaurant, around people, with security nearby. Anna was sure he’d dodge, extort, beg. But it went differently.
“That will is fake,” Alexey said immediately. “I found out only the day before yesterday. Mom showed it to me. She hired a fake notary through some old acquaintance. This is all her revenge.”
Anna didn’t react.
She stared at his face—no remorse. Only fatigue and indifference.
“And you? Did you agree to take part in it?”
“No. But…” he exhaled, “I didn’t refuse right away. I thought maybe it was a chance to get something back. Then I realized: this isn’t my fight anymore. And not my path.”
“It took you a month and a half to realize that?”
“It took me a month and a half to be left with what I still have. I’m leaving. Novosibirsk. I’ve got a job lined up, a place to live. I’m out of this game.”
Anna was silent for a long time.
Then she said:
“You left much earlier. Only your body was still hanging around. Now—finally.”
A week later she received an official conclusion from an independent expert examination: the will was forged—signatures didn’t match under handwriting analysis, and the notary didn’t even exist. Her lawyers were already preparing a criminal case against Galina Ivanovna.
But events spun out of control again.
Galina Ivanovna disappeared.
She didn’t come to the court hearing, didn’t answer calls. Her apartment was sealed— a neighbor called the police after a strange smell had been coming from inside for three days… and then suddenly stopped, as if someone had scrubbed everything spotless.
No traces. No tickets. No calls. Everything wiped.
Anna didn’t sleep all night.
In the morning she received a letter. By regular mail. No sender name. Only an address on the envelope—her new apartment, an address no one knew except close people.
Inside was a sheet of paper covered in sweeping handwriting:
“You think you’ve won. But I вложила years of my life into that son. I did everything so he would live well. You took him from me, you broke him, you destroyed my family. I asked for the dacha—you used it to rub my face in it. I wanted respect—you buried me under courts and police. May it come back to you in life. I’m leaving, but not empty-handed. I have something to leave behind. Only now it won’t be you.” —G.I.
Anna handed the letter to her lawyers. Later it turned out that Galina Ivanovna withdrew all her savings in the last twenty-four hours before disappearing—more than 4 million rubles. No trails, no cameras, no hotel registrations. As if she’d evaporated.
Alexey confirmed: his mother told him on the phone, “We won’t see each other again.” He didn’t know where she was. He didn’t even know whether to believe her.
A year later.
Anna sat on the veranda of that very dacha. Now it truly housed the office of a foundation helping women who faced property blackmail inside the family. More than 300 appeals had come in; dozens of cases had been won. Anna’s story became the basis of a handbook on how to legally and competently get out of such traps.
Her father retired and moved to Spain.
Anna’s company expanded. She found a new partner—both in business and in life.
Galina Ivanovna’s jewelry was found in a pawn-shop chain in Ryazan. The car was almost driven across the border, but it was stopped—the plates were fake.
But Galina Ivanovna… was never found.
Maybe she was living somewhere under a чужим именем. Maybe she fled abroad. Or maybe… she truly was gone.
But one thing was clear:
Anna went through collapse, betrayal, pressure, lies—and held her ground.
She no longer believed in families where the word “love” is used to cover manipulation.
But she believed in herself
