“Olga, stop pretending to be a saint!” he snapped harshly. “You live alone in a three-room apartment, while your sister and my son are crammed into a one-room place. Where’s the fairness?”
“Maxim is right,” Marina spoke up from the couch, clutching two-year-old Vitya to her. “Olya, you know it’s tight for us. A child needs his own room.”
Olga stood by the window. She turned slowly toward her sister.
“So I’m supposed to give you my apartment? Just like that—hand it over as a gift?”
“Not a gift. An exchange,” Maxim smirked. “We’re not monsters. You move into our one-room place—there’ll be plenty of space for you alone.”
An hour earlier, everything had started off perfectly calmly. Olga had been sipping tea in the kitchen, flipping through a magazine, when the doorbell rang. Marina stood on the threshold with Vitya in her arms, and behind her loomed Maxim, holding a big bag of toys.
“Can we come in?” Marina asked, but without waiting for an answer, she stepped into the entryway.
“Of course,” Olga moved aside, though inside she tensed at the sheer boldness of it. “Did something happen?”
“Yes, something happened,” Maxim followed, sweeping his eyes over the spacious entryway as if appraising its value. “We need to discuss something.”
In the living room Marina sat Vitya down on the rug, spilling the toys beside him. The toddler immediately got absorbed in the bright little cars.
“Would you like some tea?” Olga offered, trying to maintain the appearance of hospitality.
“Don’t bother with ceremonies,” Maxim cut in. “Let’s get straight to it.”
“Straight to what?” Olga lowered herself slowly into the armchair across from them, already anticipating an unpleasant conversation.
“To the apartment issue,” Maxim strolled around the room, inspecting the expensive interior. “You see, Olya, here’s the situation. Marina is the mother of my child. I take care of them, but living in that little shoebox is impossible.”
“What do I have to do with it?”
“Everything—because you’re selfish,” Maxim snapped. “You’re hogging a huge apartment all by yourself while your sister and your nephew don’t even have room to breathe.”
Now, an hour later, the ugly conversation was reaching its peak.
“Maxim, maybe you don’t have to be so harsh?” Marina lifted her head, but there wasn’t real reproach in her voice—more like a weak attempt to smooth things over.
“Harsh? I’m just telling it like it is,” Maxim sat down beside Marina and put a proprietary hand on her shoulder. “Your sister’s used to living for herself. No husband, no kids. Why does she need three rooms?”
“I have a personal life,” Olga objected, trying not to show how much the words stung.
“Yeah? And where’s your prince?” Maxim looked around the room theatrically. “Not seeing any men’s stuff. Or are you running around to rental apartments?”
“That’s none of your business!”
“It is my business—the well-being of my son,” Maxim leaned forward, his voice turning harder. “And his mother’s, by the way. So let’s do this the easy way: you swap apartments, everyone’s happy.”
“I’m not moving anywhere,” Olga said firmly.
“Olya, just think,” Marina pleaded, a whiny note creeping into her voice. “Vitya will be three soon. He needs space to play, to develop. Our kitchen is six square meters—he can’t even roll a toy car properly in there.”
“Marina, that’s your problem. You chose to have a child out of wedlock.”
“See what you’re like!” Maxim shouted, springing up. “Throwing it in your sister’s face! And you call yourself family!”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Valentina—the sisters’ mother—entered the living room. She’d taken her coat off in the entryway and now stood in the doorway, taking in the scene.
“Mom!” Marina hurried to her feet. “Good you came. Explain to Olga that she’s wrong.”
“Wrong about what?” Valentina walked in, her seasoned gaze immediately catching the tension.
“We want to swap apartments,” Maxim explained, turning on all his charm. “Vitya and Marina need more space, but Olga’s digging in her heels.”
“Swap?” Valentina sat down next to Olga and studied Maxim’s face closely. “But that’s unfair. A three-room for a one-room?”
“Mom, what’s the difference!” Marina scooped Vitya into her arms as if using the child as evidence. “Look at your grandson! He has nowhere to play, nowhere to learn! And Olya’s lounging around here alone in three rooms!”
“Marina, it’s Olga’s apartment,” Valentina replied calmly but firmly. “She has the right to live however she wants.”
“Well, look at that!” Maxim jumped up, his mask of the charming family man starting to slip. “Valentina Petrovna, I thought you were a reasonable woman. Can’t you see your older daughter is just being greedy?”
“Young man, don’t make it personal,” Valentina answered coldly.
“What—truth hurts?” Maxim began pacing the room, his movements growing sharper. “Fine. If you don’t want to do it nicely, we’ll do it differently.”
At that moment the front door opened and Zoya—Olga’s friend—walked in. She had her own keys and clearly hadn’t expected guests.
“Olya, I’m here for the documents… Oh,” she froze in the living room doorway. “You’ve got company.”
“Come in,” Olga waved her over, even feeling relieved to see an ally. “It’s my sister and her… family.”
“Oh, Marina, hi,” Zoya nodded coolly. “Long time no see.”
“Hi,” Marina muttered, clearly unhappy to have a witness.
“Zoya, maybe you can explain to Olga that you’re supposed to help your own people?” Maxim suddenly addressed her, trying to pull her onto his side.
“Sorry—who are you?” Zoya frowned, not hiding her dislike of the stranger.
“I’m Vitya’s father. And Marina’s common-law husband.”
“Common-law husband?” Zoya repeated with poorly concealed irony. “Interesting. So why not get officially married and buy a normal apartment?”
“None of your business!” Maxim snapped, his face darkening.
“Zoya, don’t interfere,” Marina said, but uncertainty trembled in her voice. “This is our family matter.”
“Family?” Zoya arched an eyebrow. “Marin, you used to be a smart woman. What did you see in this—”
“Watch it!” Maxim took a threatening step toward Zoya. “Mind your tongue!”
“Or what?” Zoya didn’t budge. “You’ll take the apartment by force?”
Suddenly Olga’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen—Igor.
“Excuse me, I need to take this,” Olga hurried into the hallway.
“Hi,” Igor’s voice sounded worried. “Are you home? I’m coming over—I need to talk.”
“No, don’t! I have… guests.”
“What guests?”
“My sister and her… man. I’ll explain later.”
“Okay. Call me when you’re free.”
Olga returned to the living room. Maxim was heatedly arguing with Valentina.
“…and why is everyone protecting Olga anyway? She’s a childless egoist! No family, no kids—just work and girlfriends!”
“Maxim, enough!” Valentina stood up sharply. “You have no right to talk about my daughter like that!”
“I do—because my son is suffering because of her greed!”
“If you’re such a caring father,” Zoya cut in, “why don’t you marry Marina? Why don’t you provide housing for them?”
“Why is everyone ganging up on me?!” Marina shrieked, finally snapping. “Maxim is right! Olya was always the favorite! She got the best of everything! And what do I get?”
The door opened again. Nina—Marina’s friend—walked in.
“Marina, are you here? I stopped by your place, the neighbor said you went to your sister’s,” she halted when she saw the tense faces.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Marina waved weakly. “Come in—join the bullying.”
“Bullying?” Nina blinked.
“We’re asking Olga to swap apartments with us,” Maxim explained, flipping back into charming mode. “But she’s being greedy, and everyone’s defending her.”
“Swap?” Nina looked around the spacious living room, then at Maxim. “Well, it is big… But it’s her apartment.”
“Nina, whose friend are you?” Marina protested.
“Yours—but that doesn’t mean I’ll support stupidity,” Nina sat on the armrest. “Marin, you understand it’s unfair, right?”
“Unfair how? That my son has nowhere to live?”
“That you want to take your sister’s home,” Nina said calmly. “That doesn’t solve your problem.”
“You’ve all conspired!” Maxim slammed his palm on the table. “Fine, Olga—remember this day. You’ll regret not meeting us halfway.”
“Is that a threat?” Valentina stepped decisively between Maxim and Olga.
“It’s a promise,” Maxim hissed through clenched teeth. “Marina, pick up Vitya—we’re leaving.”
“But Maxim—”
“I said we’re leaving!” he roared so loudly Vitya burst into frightened tears.
Marina silently gathered the toys and dressed her son. At the door she stopped.
“Olya,” her voice shook, “you really don’t want to help us?”
“Marina, I’m ready to help. Just not by giving you my apartment.”
“Then you’re not my sister!” Marina screamed and ran out.
Maxim lingered in the doorway, his eyes full of hatred.
“This isn’t over,” he promised, and followed her.
Valentina sank slowly onto the couch.
“What a man… Where did Marina dig him up?”
“Mom, she brought it on herself,” Zoya said. “Got involved with some nobody, had a kid, and now wants everyone to fix her life.”
“Don’t say that,” Valentina pleaded. “She’s my daughter. She’s just lost.”
An hour later everyone had left. Olga was alone. She picked up her phone and dialed Igor.
“Can you come over?”
“I’m already on my way. What happened?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here.”
Igor arrived twenty minutes later. Olga opened the door—a tall man in a strict suit stepped inside quickly, worry plain on his face.
“What happened? You’re pale.”
“Marina and her… Maxim are demanding I give them my apartment.”
“What? On what grounds?”
“They say I don’t need a three-room place alone, and they’re cramped with a child in a one-room.”
“That’s absurd,” Igor hugged Olga. “Don’t worry. No one can force you to give up your home.”
“I know. But Marina said I’m not her sister anymore…”
“Olya, listen,” Igor cupped her face in his hands. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time… I’m divorcing my wife.”
“What? Igor, we agreed—”
“I remember. But I can’t live like this anymore. I want to be with you openly. No secrets, no lies.”
The next day Olga got a call from Vera—another one of Marina’s friends.
“Olga, hi. Can I stop by?”
“Why?”
“We need to talk. About Marina.”
Vera came an hour later. She sat at the kitchen table, refused tea, and looked worried.
“Olya, I’m telling you this as Marina’s friend… that Maxim—he’s married.”
“What?!”
“Yes. He has a wife and two kids. Marina doesn’t know. He’s been stringing her along for two years.”
“But… how—”
“His wife lives in another city. He does business there, and he comes to Marina like it’s a business trip.”
“Vera, are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I found out by accident. A mutual acquaintance saw him with his wife and kids at a mall.”
“We have to tell Marina!”
“I tried. She doesn’t believe me. Says I’m jealous of her happiness.”
“And the apartment… He wants my apartment for what? To move his real family in here?”
“I don’t know. But he’s definitely plotting something. Olya, be careful. He’s dangerous.”
The doorbell rang. Olga went to open it. Viktor—a family friend—stood on the threshold.
“Olya, can I come in? Your mom asked me to talk to you.”
“Of course, come in.”
Viktor walked into the kitchen and greeted Vera.
“Am I interrupting?”
“No, it’s fine. Vera was telling me about Maxim.”
“Ah, that swindler,” Viktor shook his head. “I ran a check on him. Shady character. And it’s not just that he’s married.”
“What else?”
“He’s already pulled this stunt twice. He finds single women with property, messes with their heads, then uses relatives or kids to squeeze the real estate out of them.”
“Horrible,” Vera gasped.
“But Marina isn’t single,” Olga said.
“She has a sister with a three-room apartment,” Viktor replied grimly. “I think his plan is to get your apartment ‘for Marina and the child,’ then find a way to sell it or use it somehow.”
“Bastard!” Vera slammed her fist on the table. “We have to save Marina!”
“She won’t believe it,” Viktor shook his head. “I tried talking to her already. Maxim has completely programmed her. She believes in him like he’s a god.”
Olga’s phone rang. An unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Olga? This is Elena, Maxim’s wife.”
Olga put it on speaker so everyone could hear.
“Hello. How did you get my number?”
“Doesn’t matter. I understand Maxim is demanding your apartment for your sister. Don’t agree—under any circumstances!”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because he’s already done schemes like this twice. With his mistresses’ apartments. One woman is living with relatives now, the other moved to another city. He knows how to manipulate, how to persuade. I feel sorry for your sister, but save yourself. I’m warning you.”
“And you… why don’t you divorce him?”
“We have a prenuptial contract. If I file first, I get nothing. And he won’t file—he benefits from having an official family as cover. But I keep an eye on him. I know all his tricks. And I’m warning you: don’t give in.”
The call cut off. Silence filled the kitchen.
“Well then,” Viktor finally said. “What a prize.”
The doorbell rang again. Olga went to open it—Marina, Maxim, and their mother were standing there.
“We came to talk again,” Maxim announced, walking in without an invitation.
“Maxim thinks he overreacted yesterday,” Marina added.
“Yes, I want to apologize,” Maxim acted contrite. “I was rude. Let’s discuss everything calmly.”
They all went into the living room. Viktor and Vera stayed in the kitchen, but the door was open.
“Olga, I understand it’s your apartment,” Maxim began. “But think about your nephew. He’s growing—he needs space. We’re ready to pay the difference.”
“How much?” Olga asked.
“Well… about two hundred thousand.”
“Maxim, the difference between a three-room and a one-room is at least two to four million.”
“Where would we get that kind of money?” Marina cried. “Olya, don’t be so mercenary!”
“I’m not mercenary. I’m fair.”
“Fine,” Maxim stood. “I see we can’t do it nicely. Valentina Petrovna, maybe you can bring your older daughter to her senses?”
“Maxim, I’m not going to force Olga to give away her apartment,” Valentina said firmly.
“Then you’re all enemies of Marina and Vitya!” Maxim declared. “Come on, Marina. There’s nothing for us here.”
“Wait!” Viktor came out of the kitchen. “Maxim, what would your wife Elena say about your apartment plans?”
Maxim went pale.
“What Elena?”
“Your legal wife. Mother of your two children.”
“What?!” Marina grabbed at her chest. “Maxim, what is he talking about?”
“Don’t listen to him! It’s all lies!”
“It’s not lies,” Vera followed Viktor in. “Marina, he’s married. He has a family in another city.”
“No! No! You’re all lying!” Marina covered her face with her hands.
“Marina,” Olga stepped closer. “His wife called me. Just now. She warned me not to give up the apartment.”
“It’s a conspiracy!” Maxim screamed. “You’re all in on it!”
At that moment the door opened. Igor walked in.
“Sorry—the door wasn’t locked… Olya, are you okay?”
“Igor?” Maxim narrowed his eyes. “Igor Semyonov? Well, look at that! An old acquaintance!”
“Stepano—?” Igor frowned. “Maxim Stepanov? What are you doing here?”
“So you know each other?” Olga blurted.
“Oh, we know each other,” Maxim laughed. “Igoryok, now I get it—so you’re Olga’s secret lover. She lectured my Marina about ‘personal life’ while she herself is sleeping with a married man!”
“What?” Valentina stared at Igor. “Olya, is that true?”
“I’m divorcing,” Igor said quickly. “I’ve already filed the papers.”
“Why is everyone picking on me?!” Marina wailed. “Olga’s lover is married too, and she’s preaching morals to me!”
“Marina, those are different things,” their mother began.
“No, they’re not!” Maxim seized the moment again. “See? Your model daughter—messing with another woman’s husband! And then she thinks she can teach others!”
“Maxim, shut up!” Igor barked. “I remember your little schemes. You already squeezed two apartments out of women, didn’t you?”
“None of your business!”
“It is now. Olga is my person. Touch her and you’ll regret it.”
“Oh wow, found yourself a protector!” Maxim stepped toward Igor. “I’ll—”
Igor calmly pulled out his phone.
“Hello, Mikhail? Yes, it’s me. Remember Maxim Stepanov? Yeah, the same one. He’s here—at my fiancée’s place. Trying to squeeze an apartment out of her. Can you come over with the guys? Thanks.”
“Who did you call?” Maxim tensed.
“Head of security at our company. He remembers you too—from the case with Nadezhda Sergeyevna’s apartment.”
“I… I have to go,” Maxim backed toward the door.
“Wait!” Marina clutched his arm. “Explain! Are you really married?”
“Marina, not now—”
“Now!” she hung onto him. “Maxim, tell me it’s not true!”
“Get off!” he shoved her away roughly.
Marina fell to the floor, sobbing. Vitya, who’d been sitting in the corner with his toys the whole time, started crying too.
“There’s his true face,” Viktor said flatly.
Maxim ran out of the apartment. Marina stayed on the floor, shaking with sobs. Valentina lifted her grandson and held him close.
“Olya,” Marina looked up through tears. “Forgive me. I’m stupid. He fooled me…”
“Marina, calm down,” Olga helped her to her feet. “Everything will be okay.”
“How can it be okay? I have a child by a married man! The apartment is tiny, I don’t have a job… I tried to take your home! What kind of monster am I?”
“You’re not a monster. You just trusted the wrong person.”
Ten minutes later the security team arrived. Mikhail—a solid man in a black suit—spoke with Igor.
“Stepanov left. But we’ll find him. We have questions for him from old cases.”
“Thanks, Misha.”
“No problem. And by the way—congrats on the divorce. Heard you finally decided.”
“Yeah,” Igor said, hugging Olga. “Meet Olga. My future wife.”
“Nice to meet you. If you need anything—call.”
After security left, they all sat in the living room. Marina was still crying.
“What do I do now? How do I live?”
Three weeks later Maxim was arrested following a complaint by his wife Elena and two other victims. It turned out he had far more real-estate scams than anyone suspected. The Investigative Committee opened a criminal case under several statutes.
Elena immediately terminated the prenuptial contract, using a clause about the spouse’s criminal actions. Maxim lost everything—apartment, car, accounts. He even had to take a court-appointed lawyer.
Marina returned to her one-room apartment. For the first few days she didn’t leave the house or answer calls. Valentina took Vitya—her grandson shouldn’t have to see his mother in that state.
Olga tried several times to see her sister, but Marina wouldn’t open the door.
“Marina, open up!” Olga knocked. “Let’s talk!”
Only silence answered.
Meanwhile Igor moved in with Olga for good. The divorce was almost finalized, and they scheduled the wedding for the end of spring.
“You know,” Igor said over dinner, “I’m calm now. No secrets, no lies.”
“And I’m not the mistress anymore,” Olga smiled. “Now I’m the fiancée.”
“And soon—the wife.”
They planned a modest ceremony—only the closest people. Olga hoped that by then Marina would thaw and agree to come.
But Marina kept avoiding them. When Valentina brought Vitya to Olga’s, Marina stayed home. The boy missed his aunt, but his mother was adamant.
“Marina, how long are you going to do this?” Valentina pleaded. “Olga didn’t do anything wrong!”
“She humiliated me in front of everyone,” Marina insisted stubbornly. “Made me look like an idiot. And that Igor of hers… he’s a piece of work too. Married.”
“But he’s getting divorced!”
“Maxim said the same thing.”
Valentina sighed. The daughters were so different—Olga direct and principled, Marina dreamy and touchy. Now Marina’s shame had turned into a wall between the sisters.
A month before the wedding, Olga went to Marina’s workplace—she’d gotten a job as a sales clerk at a small children’s clothing shop.
“Marina, talk to me.”
“I have to work,” Marina said dryly, not looking up from the register.
“Five minutes.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I want you at my wedding.”
Marina jerked her head up.
“Why? So everyone can look at me like the idiot who got conned by a scammer? Who tried to take her sister’s apartment?”
“No one thinks that—”
“Everyone thinks that. And they’re right. I was an idiot.”
“Marina, stop tearing yourself apart. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Not everyone tries to steal their own sister’s home.”
Olga understood: until Marina forgave herself, she couldn’t forgive Olga either. Her anger at herself spilled onto everyone around her.
The wedding happened without Marina. Olga put on her white dress and thought about her sister. How awful that their relationship had been destroyed because of some stranger.
“Don’t be sad,” Igor whispered, taking her hand. “Marina will come around.”
“I don’t know. She’s very proud.”
“Time heals. You’ll see.”
After the wedding, the newlyweds flew off on their honeymoon. When they returned, Olga learned that Maxim had been sentenced to six years. The case made the press—journalists relished the details of his schemes.
Marina closed off completely. She changed jobs, barely spoke to their mother, and raised Vitya alone. The boy often asked about Aunt Olya, but Marina forbade even mentioning the name.
Valentina was torn between her daughters. She visited Olga secretly, hiding it from Marina.
“She’s changed so much,” Valentina told Olga and Igor. “So withdrawn, so angry. I feel sorry for Vitya—growing up without a father, with a mother who’s constantly depressed.”
“Maybe we can help somehow,” Olga said. “Money?”
“I offered. She refused. Says she doesn’t trust anyone anymore.”
A year passed. Olga had a baby girl. Valentina secretly showed Marina photos of her granddaughter, but Marina only turned away.
“She has her own family now,” Marina said. “Why would she remember me?”
“Olya asks about you every week!”
“Out of pity.”
Pride proved stronger than family ties. Marina built a wall and refused to tear it down. And Olga, happy in marriage and motherhood, still grieved her lost sister. Maxim served his sentence in a maximum-security colony. His wife remarried and forbade the children from even mentioning their father. All bridges were burned, all plans destroyed.
Because of one man, two families fell apart. Olga found happiness—but lost her sister. Marina kept her pride—but was left alone. And only little Vitya didn’t understand why he couldn’t play anymore in the home that had once felt so spacious and fun
