Svetlana was sitting at the kitchen table when her phone suddenly came alive with the sharp sound of an incoming message. Out of habit, she glanced at the screen — and froze.
The text was short, but every word struck like a slap across the face:
“Stop calling my husband. I know who you are and where you work. If you don’t stop, you’ll regret it.”
“What kind of nonsense is this?” Svetlana muttered, reading the message again.
She checked the sender’s number. The digits looked familiar, but she could not immediately remember why. She opened her contacts and began comparing the number. When she finally found the match, her breath caught in her throat.
It was the number of Igor Petrovich, her boss.
“No… this has to be some mistake,” she whispered, feeling chills run down her back.
At that moment, Artur came out of the next room. He was a tall, fit man of thirty-five, moving with the lazy confidence of someone who knew exactly how attractive he was.
“What are you mumbling about?” he asked, opening the refrigerator.
“Artur, something strange happened,” Svetlana said, turning toward her husband. “I received a bizarre message. From Igor Petrovich’s wife, can you imagine? She’s telling me to stop calling her husband. But I never call him! We only speak about work.”
Artur froze with a bottle of mineral water in his hand. For a second, something strange flashed across his face — a mixture of surprise and something else Svetlana did not have time to recognize.
“Show me,” he said curtly.
Svetlana handed him the phone. Artur read the message carefully, his eyebrows drawing together.
“Maybe she mixed up the number,” he suggested, handing the phone back.
“How could she mix it up? She wrote that she knows who I am and where I work!”
“Jealous wives can do all kinds of things,” Artur shrugged. “She probably saw your number in her husband’s phone and decided that you were… well, you understand.”
“But that is absurd! Igor Petrovich is my boss, nothing more! I am sixty-two years old, and he is almost seventy! What is there even to talk about?”
Artur gave a short laugh.
“Svetlana, you’re naive. Do you really think age stops anyone? Maybe the old man decided to flirt with his young secretary, and his wife found out. Now she suspects everyone.”
“I am not a secretary! I am the company’s chief accountant!”
“What difference does it make?” Artur waved it off. “Just ignore it. Delete the message and forget about it.”
But Svetlana could not forget. Something about the situation felt wrong, as if the pieces of a puzzle refused to fit together.
The next morning, the office had its usual working rhythm. Svetlana tried to focus on the quarterly report, but her thoughts kept returning to that strange message. When Igor Petrovich came into her office with another folder of documents, she tensed without meaning to.
“Svetlana Nikolaevna, here are the invoices for last month,” he said, placing the folder on her desk. “They need to be checked by the end of the week.”
“Of course, Igor Petrovich,” she replied, trying to keep her voice even. “And… how is your wife? Is she well?”
Her boss raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Marina? Thank you, she’s fine. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason. I just wondered…”
Igor Petrovich paused near the door.
“Svetlana Nikolaevna, is everything all right? You seem a little tense today.”
“Everything is fine. Just a lot of work.”
When he left, Svetlana took out her phone and read the message again. Then she opened her call history. Over the past month, she had called Igor Petrovich only three times, and every call had been during working hours and lasted less than a minute.
That evening, she found Artur at home, sitting at his laptop. As soon as he saw her, he quickly shut it.
“Work?” Svetlana asked.
“Yes. Just finishing a project,” he answered without looking her in the eye.
“Artur, I can’t stop thinking about that message. Maybe I should call Marina and explain everything?”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Artur snapped. Then he quickly softened his tone. “I mean… why create unnecessary problems for yourself? You said yourself nothing happened. So why justify yourself?”
“But this is a misunderstanding.”
“Svetlana, FORGET about it. The more you dig into this, the worse you’ll make it. Trust me.”
His tone left no room for argument. Svetlana said nothing, but her anxiety grew. Artur was acting strangely. In twelve years of marriage, she had learned to read his moods, and now something was definitely wrong.
That night, she could not sleep. Artur was breathing peacefully beside her, while she lay awake thinking. Suddenly, an idea struck her — what if she checked the messages on her husband’s phone? No, that was wrong. She should not invade his privacy. But the worm of suspicion had already settled in her heart.
In the morning, while Artur was in the shower, his phone rang. Svetlana automatically glanced at the screen. It was an unknown number. She did not answer, but the number seemed vaguely familiar.
“Who called?” Artur asked as he came out of the bathroom.
“I don’t know. Some unfamiliar number.”
He quickly grabbed the phone, looked at the screen, and frowned.
“Probably just advertising.”
But Svetlana noticed how pale his fingers had become as they gripped the phone.
During her lunch break, Svetlana made a desperate decision. She dialed the number from which the threatening message had been sent.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice answered.
“Marina? This is Svetlana Nikolaevna, the chief accountant. I work with Igor Petrovich.”
“Svetlana Nikolaevna?” The woman sounded genuinely surprised. “Hello! Has something happened? Is Igor all right?”
“Yes, he is fine. Marina, forgive me for asking such a strange question, but did you send me a message yesterday?”
“A message? No, of course not. What message?”
Svetlana repeated the text. Silence fell on the other end of the line.
“That is absolute madness,” Marina finally said. “I definitely did not write that to you! And why would I? I have known you for five years. You are a wonderful specialist and a decent person. Igor always speaks of you with respect.”
“But the message came from your number.”
“From my number? That’s impossible! My phone is always with me. Although… wait. Yesterday morning, I couldn’t find it for about twenty minutes. Then I found it in the car under the seat. I thought it had fallen out of my bag.”
“Yesterday morning?” Svetlana felt something click inside her head. “Where had you been before that?”
“At the gym. I go to Pilates three times a week. Why?”
“Marina, which gym do you go to?”
“FitLife on Michurina Street. But what does that have to do with—”
Svetlana felt as if the ground had disappeared beneath her feet.
Artur went to the same gym.
“Marina, thank you very much. You’ve helped me a lot.”
“Wait! Svetlana Nikolaevna, what is going on? Who sent that message from my phone?”
“I don’t know for sure yet, but I will find out. Thank you again.”
Svetlana ended the call and leaned back in her chair. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to form a horrifying picture. Artur had been in the same gym. Artur could have taken Marina’s phone. But why? What was he planning?
That evening, she came home earlier than usual. Artur was not there yet. Svetlana went into his study and turned on his computer. She knew the password — their wedding date.
What she saw made her choke with anger.
The browser history was full of links to legal consultation websites. The search queries read: “divorce because of wife’s infidelity,” “how to prove wife cheated,” “division of property in divorce due to wife’s misconduct.”
Then, in the Documents folder, she found a draft divorce petition. The reason listed was “improper behavior by the spouse and immoral relationships at the workplace.”
“You snake,” Svetlana breathed.
Now everything made sense. Artur wanted a divorce, but he wanted to get as much as possible from the property division. The apartment had been bought with her money, inherited from her parents. The car was hers too. If he simply filed for divorce, he would only receive a share of the jointly acquired property — and that was not much. But if he could prove she had cheated…
The front door slammed. Svetlana quickly turned off the computer and left the study.
“Hi,” Artur said, hanging up his jacket. “You’re home early.”
“Yes. There wasn’t much to do.”
She looked at her husband and wanted to slap his handsome face. But she held herself back. She needed to figure out how to expose him properly.
For the next two days, Svetlana behaved as usual. Artur relaxed, thinking his plan was working. He even became especially attentive — bringing her coffee in bed, asking about her day, suggesting they go to a restaurant.
“Bastard,” Svetlana thought, smiling back at him. “Playing the caring husband before the divorce.”
On the third day, she received another message:
“I warned you. Now everyone will know what you really are.”
Attached to the message was a photograph. It showed Svetlana getting out of Igor Petrovich’s car. The photo had been taken a month earlier, when her car had broken down and her boss had given her a lift to the metro. But the angle had been chosen so carefully that the situation looked suspicious.
Svetlana looked at Artur, who was sitting across from her with a cup of coffee.
“Another message from my boss’s wife,” she said. “This time with a photograph.”
Artur pretended to be outraged.
“This is ridiculous! Maybe you should go to the police. This is blackmail!”
“I think you’re right,” Svetlana nodded. “That is exactly what I’ll do.”
Artur choked on his coffee.
“You mean… seriously? Maybe you shouldn’t. It’ll cause noise, scandal…”
“Why unnecessary noise? I am being threatened and blackmailed. That is a crime.”
“But… if you go to the police, they’ll start investigating. People might misunderstand…”
“What exactly might they misunderstand, Artur?” Svetlana looked him straight in the eye. “That a boss gave a lift to an employee whose car had broken down?”
“Well… people can think all sorts of things.”
“Let them think. I have NOTHING to hide.”
Artur stood up from the table.
“Do whatever you want. I have to go to work.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, Svetlana called her friend Olga, who worked at an IT company.
“Olga, I need your help. Can you track what device these messages were sent from?”
“Theoretically, yes. What happened?”
“I’ll explain later. Can you do it today?”
“Come by after work.”
That evening, after digging through Svetlana’s phone, Olga gave her verdict.
“The messages were sent through a special delayed-sending app. The IP address… let me check… Oh. This is your home IP.”
“What?!”
“The messages were sent from your apartment, Svetlana. Someone used your home Wi-Fi.”
Svetlana bit her lip. She had proof, but it was not enough. She needed to make Artur confess.
At home, she found her husband eating dinner.
“Artur, we need to talk.”
“About what?” He did not even lift his head.
“About divorce.”
His fork froze in the air. Slowly, Artur raised his eyes.
“What?”
“I know you sent those messages pretending to be Marina. I know about your plan to file for divorce and accuse me of cheating. I saw the draft petition on your computer.”
Artur turned pale, then red.
“You… you went through my computer?”
“And you STOLE another woman’s phone to slander your own wife!” Svetlana felt a wave of fury rising inside her. “Did you think I was some obedient little fool? That I would keep quiet and be afraid of a scandal?”
“Svetlana, you don’t understand…”
“SHUT UP!” she shouted so loudly that the glasses on the table trembled. “Twelve years! TWELVE YEARS I supported you! The apartment is mine, the car is mine, even your wardrobe was bought with my money! And you decided to rob me?”
“Don’t yell at me!” Artur snapped.
“I WILL YELL!” Svetlana grabbed a plate from the table and hurled it at the wall. “Did you think I would stay silent? Did you think I would be scared of your filthy insinuations? GO TO HELL!”
Artur jumped to his feet.
“You can’t prove it was me!”
“Oh, yes I can!” Svetlana pulled out her phone. “The IP address the messages were sent from is our home IP. The delayed-sending app is installed on your phone — I checked while you were sleeping. And Marina will confirm that her phone disappeared at the exact time you were at the gym.”
“You’re bluffing!”
“Check it. Call your lawyer and ask what happens when someone falsifies evidence in a divorce case. And while you’re at it, ask about stealing a phone and blackmail.”
Artur stood in the middle of the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. His plan, so carefully designed and so cunning, had collapsed like a house of cards.
“Svetlana, let’s talk calmly…”
“CALMLY?” She threw a cup at him, and he barely dodged it. “You wanted to make me look like a whore, take MY apartment, and now you want to talk calmly?”
“I… I was wrong.”
“GET OUT!” Svetlana screamed. “Get out of my house! RIGHT NOW!”
“This is my home too!”
“Not anymore! The apartment is in my name, bought before the marriage with my parents’ inheritance. You are nobody here! GET OUT!”
She grabbed his jacket and threw it at him.
“Go! And don’t let me see you again!”
“Where am I supposed to go?” Artur asked helplessly.
“GO TO HELL FOR ALL I CARE! Or maybe go to the woman you did all this for. You think I didn’t figure it out? You wanted someone younger, but you didn’t have money for her. So you decided to strip me of everything!”
Artur tried to say something, but Svetlana grabbed a frying pan.
“Will you leave on your own, or should I help you?”
Seeing her determination, Artur backed toward the door.
“You’ll regret this! I’ll sue you!”
“GO AHEAD!” she shouted. “Let’s see what the judge says about your tricks with someone else’s phone and fake messages! By the way, I’ve already sent all the evidence to my lawyer. And Marina is ready to testify.”
Artur rushed out the door. Svetlana locked it with every bolt and leaned her back against it. The adrenaline slowly faded, leaving emptiness behind. But along with it came a strange sense of relief, as if a heavy burden had finally fallen from her shoulders.
Her phone rang. Unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Svetlana?” a woman’s uncertain voice said. “This is Karina. I… I’m Artur’s girlfriend.”
Svetlana smirked.
“Well, isn’t that interesting. He denied there was anyone else.”
“He told me you were getting divorced… that he had already filed the papers. He said that in a month he would be free and we would get married.”
“And now?”
“He just arrived. He said you kicked him out. That everything fell apart. He’s demanding that I let him stay. But… I only have a one-room apartment on the edge of the city! And I don’t understand what’s happening!”
“I’ll explain,” Svetlana said, sitting down on the floor right there in the hallway. “Your Artur decided to divorce me in a way that would let him take my property. He invented an entire scheme with fake evidence of infidelity. He just forgot that I’m not stupid.”
“Oh my God…” Karina began to sob on the other end of the line. “He said you were a rich bitch, that he’d have money after the divorce… That we’d buy an apartment in the city center…”
“He won’t get anything. Not a single coin. You can tell him that tomorrow I am filing for divorce. And I’m also reporting attempted blackmail to the police. Let him find himself a good lawyer. Though I doubt it will help.”
“What am I supposed to do now? He’s sitting in my kitchen and demanding dinner!”
“That, my dear, is now your problem. You wanted him, so now you have him. A free bonus to your great love. Enjoy.”
Svetlana hung up. A minute later, the phone rang again. It was Artur. She rejected the call and blocked his number.
Two months later, the divorce was finalized. Artur tried to make demands, but the evidence of his scheme was undeniable. The judge not only refused to give him any share of Svetlana’s premarital property, but also ordered him to pay her compensation for emotional distress.
Karina threw Artur out after just one week of living together. It turned out that a handsome man without money, work, or a home did not interest her at all. He tried to return to Svetlana, even waiting outside her building with a bouquet of roses. But she called the police and reminded him about the blackmail complaint.
The last thing Svetlana heard about him was that Artur had moved to another city and found a job as a sales manager in some small company.
As for Svetlana, she signed up for the Spanish courses she had dreamed about for the past five years, bought a ticket to the Canary Islands, and for the first time in many years felt truly happy.
When Igor Petrovich learned the whole story, he was shocked.
“Svetlana Nikolaevna, why didn’t you tell me right away? I would have helped!”
“Thank you, Igor Petrovich. But I handled it myself.”
“And you did the right thing!” Marina suddenly added, having stopped by her husband’s office. “Men like that need to be put in their place! You know, I never leave my phone unattended anymore. Lesson learned for life.”
But Svetlana learned a different lesson.
Sometimes you should not endure everything in silence. Sometimes you need to let righteous anger speak. It was her anger that helped her destroy Artur’s vile plan and begin a new life — a life without lies, betrayal, or humiliation.
Sitting on the plane to the Canary Islands, she raised a glass of champagne.
“To a new life! And may every scoundrel get exactly what he deserves!”
The woman in the next seat, an elderly lady with kind eyes, smiled.
“You look so happy. Are you going on vacation?”
“I’m going into a new life,” Svetlana replied. “One without fools and traitors.”
“Good for you, dear! At our age, we should live for ourselves!”
Svetlana laughed.
Yes, at sixty-two, she was starting over.
And it was wonderful.
