“Your husband can celebrate his birthday without you. You go pick up my daughter,” the mother-in-law declared brazenly.
Victoria slowly lifted her gaze from the colorful gift boxes she was neatly arranging on the table. In the doorway stood Evelina Markovna — her mother-in-law, draped in an expensive burgundy-colored dress.
“Excuse me, WHAT?” Victoria set aside the satin ribbon she was about to tie around Avdei’s main present.
“Are you deaf? My Milana is flying in from Dubai this evening. You need to meet her at Domodedovo, drive her home, help her unpack. Avdei will be perfectly fine without your silly surprises.”
Victoria straightened up slowly. In four years of marriage, she had grown used to Evelina Markovna’s antics, but this was a new level.
“Evelina Markovna, tomorrow is Avdei’s thirty-fifth birthday. I’ve been planning this celebration for six months. I booked a table at his favorite restaurant, invited friends he hasn’t seen in years…”
“YOU’LL CANCEL,” the mother-in-law waved her hand weighed down with massive gold rings. “Milana is more important than your nonsense. She hasn’t been home for three months, she’s missed us.”
“But I’m not a chauffeur or a maid! Milana has a husband of her own — let Rostislav pick her up!”
Evelina Markovna narrowed her eyes, her burgundy-painted lips twisting into a contemptuous smirk.
“Rostislav is busy. He has an important deal. And what are you doing that’s useful? Sitting at home, wasting my son’s money on all sorts of rubbish. For once in your life, do something worthwhile for the family!”
“I work!” Victoria protested. “I run my own floristry studio — I have twelve employees!”
“You sell flowers,” the mother-in-law snorted. “That’s not work, that’s a hobby for bored housewives. Real work is signing million-dollar contracts — like my late husband did. Or like Avdei does now.”
Victoria clenched her fists. A hot, suffocating wave of indignation rose in her chest.
“Does Avdei know about your ‘request’?”
“Avdei doesn’t have time for women’s foolishness. He’s in important negotiations in Yekaterinburg, he’ll only be back by lunchtime tomorrow. By then, you’ll have already dropped Milana off and come back. Maybe you’ll even manage to cook something for your husband’s birthday. Although with your culinary skills, better order takeout.”
“I’M NOT GOING,” Victoria stated firmly.
Evelina Markovna slowly stepped closer. She reeked of expensive French perfume — and arrogance.
“Listen to me carefully, girl. You live in an apartment MY son bought. You drive a car MY son gifted you. You wear jewelry that—”
“ENOUGH!” Victoria stood up abruptly. “I’m not a gold digger! I have my own business, my own money! And we bought that apartment TOGETHER — I paid half!”
“Oh, don’t make me laugh. Your pennies from selling daisies? Out of pity, Avdei let you ‘contribute’ so you wouldn’t feel like a freeloader. Which, in reality, is exactly what you are.”
Her words struck hard and precisely. Victoria knew they were lies — her flower studio was thriving, she had paid half the cost of the apartment. But Evelina Markovna had a remarkable talent for twisting facts to suit her narrative.
“You know what? Do without me. Milana can take a taxi. Or you meet her yourself, if she’s so important.”
“Me?” Evelina pressed a hand to her chest. “I have a heart condition, the doctors forbade me from getting stressed or traveling such distances. And Domodedovo is an ordeal for my health.”
“But flying to Monaco every two months is perfectly fine for your health,” Victoria couldn’t help but retort.
Her mother-in-law’s face turned crimson.
“How DARE you! Ungrateful girl! We welcomed you — a penniless provincial — into our family, and you—”
“I’m from Nizhny Novgorod, not some village! And I have a higher education, my own business, and—”
“SILENCE!” roared Evelina Markovna. “You’ll be at Terminal Three at seven in the evening. Milana lands at seven-thirty, flight from Dubai. And don’t you dare be late!”
With those words, she spun around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door.
Victoria sank onto the sofa. Her hands trembled with anger and hurt. She pulled out her phone and dialed her husband’s number. Long beeps, then voicemail: “The subscriber is temporarily unavailable.”
For the next few hours, Victoria paced around the apartment, trying to make a decision. On one hand, she refused to give in to her mother-in-law’s manipulation. On the other — she knew that refusing would lead to a massive scandal that would ruin Avdei’s birthday completely.
At five o’clock, her phone rang. Her husband’s name flashed on the screen.
“Avdei! Thank God you called! We’ve got a situation…”
“Vika, hi. Listen, Mom said you’d pick up Milana. Thanks for agreeing. I know you two don’t get along, but it’s important.”
Victoria was speechless.
“So… you KNEW? And you didn’t tell me?”
“Well, Mom called just an hour ago, told me about it. I assumed she had already discussed it with you. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that tomorrow is your birthday! I organized everything — the restaurant, the guests…”
“Oh come on, Vik, let’s move it to the weekend. What difference does it make when we celebrate? Milana rarely comes home, she needs support. She’s having some kind of trouble with Rostislav.”
“She ALWAYS has trouble! And why should I drop everything and rush to the airport?”
“Because you’re my wife and part of the family,” Avdei’s voice hardened. “Don’t make a scene, please. I still have three hours of meetings, then a banquet with partners. Pick Milana up, drive her home, and that’s it. It’s not that hard.”
“And the fact that I’ve spent six months preparing your celebration doesn’t matter?”
“Vika, DON’T START. I’m tired, I’ve had difficult negotiations. Let’s discuss this when I get back.”
He hung up without saying goodbye.
Victoria stared at the now-black phone screen. A wave of hurt swelled inside her so strong she wanted to scream. She dialed her friend.
“Alena, hi. Can you come over? I need help.”
Half an hour later, Alena Mokeeva — her best friend and co-owner of the flower studio — was sitting in the kitchen, listening to Victoria’s flustered account.
“What a witch,” Alena exhaled when Victoria finished. “Sorry, but your mother-in-law is a real hag. And Avdei isn’t much better — mama’s boy.”
“What should I do? If I don’t go — there’ll be a scandal across the whole building. Evelina Markovna will make my life hell.”
“And if you do go — she’ll know she can wipe her feet on you. You know what? I have an idea.”
Alena pulled out her phone and began typing quickly.
“What are you doing?”
“Texting our lawyer Makar. Remember he said his brother owns a transport company? We’ll take care of everything.”
An hour later, the plan was ready. With grim determination, Victoria got ready and headed to the airport. She wasn’t alone — Alena insisted on accompanying her.
Domodedovo greeted them with its usual chaos. Victoria stood at the terminal exit holding a sign that read “Milana Sechina.”
“Maybe we should leave?” she hesitated at the last moment.
“NO WAY,” Alena said firmly. “The plan is already in motion.”
Milana appeared forty minutes after the plane landed. Tall, skinny, with long bleached hair and a haughty expression — a copy of her mother, just younger.
“Victoria? Where’s the car? I’m tired, I want to go home.”
No greetings, no thanks for being picked up.
“The car’s in the parking lot. Let’s go.”
Milana scoffed, eyeing Victoria from head to toe.
“What are you wearing? Is that from mass-market? God, Avdei could’ve found himself a wife with better taste…”
Alena, walking behind them, hissed softly in indignation. Victoria clenched her teeth and stayed silent.
They reached the parking lot. A young man in a driver’s uniform was standing by Victoria’s car.
“Good evening. I’m Timur, your driver for today.”
“What is this circus?” Milana protested. “Victoria, can’t you drive yourself?”
“I can. But I won’t. Timur will take you home. He has the address. Safe travels.”
Victoria turned and walked away. Alena followed.
“HEY! STOP!” Milana screamed. “Where are you going? And the bags? And help unpacking?”
“You’ll manage,” Victoria tossed over her shoulder.
“I’LL COMPLAIN TO MOM! She’ll throw you out of the house!”
Victoria stopped and turned slowly.
“Tell Evelina Markovna that I fulfilled her request — I met you. There was no agreement about helping with bags. And tell her that tomorrow at exactly seven in the evening Avdei and I will be celebrating his birthday at the ‘Marseille’ restaurant. If she or you show up there — the security will not let you in. The guest list has already been finalized.”
“You… you…” Milana gasped, barely able to breathe from outrage. “Who do you think you are?”
“Your brother’s wife. A wife, not the help. Timur,” Victoria nodded to the driver, “drive madam home. Here’s the address just in case. And don’t pay attention to her hysterics — they won’t pay you extra for that.”
She and Alena climbed into her friend’s car and drove off, leaving Milana standing in the parking lot, mouth agape.
“You were magnificent!” Alena said in admiration. “You should have seen her face!”
“Now it’ll start,” Victoria sighed. “Evelina Markovna won’t forgive me for this.”
The phone started blowing up within fifteen minutes. Mother-in-law, Milana, then mother-in-law again. Victoria silenced the phone and put it in her bag.
At home, a surprise awaited her. Avdei stood in the doorway — disheveled, angry.
“What the hell did you do? Mom is hysterical, Milana is crying! Are you out of your mind?”
“Weren’t you supposed to be in Yekaterinburg?” Victoria said, bewildered.
“I flew back as soon as Mom called! I canceled the most important meeting! Victoria, do you understand what you’ve done?”
“I met your sister and arranged for her to be delivered home. What’s the problem?”
“You HUMILIATED her! You hired some driver, as if she’s nobody!”
“And what am I?,” Victoria flared. “A free chauffeur? A housemaid?”
“You’re my wife and you must help my family!”
“I’m your wife, not your mother’s slave! And you know what? I’m DONE! Four years I’ve tolerated rudeness, humiliation, insults! Your mother wipes her feet on me, and you pretend nothing is happening!”
“Don’t exaggerate. Mom’s just… eccentric.”
“Eccentric? ECCENTRIC? She called me a beggar, a creature, a freeloader! And that’s only today!”
“She’s emotional — don’t take it to heart.”
Victoria looked at her husband as if he were a stranger.
“Avdei, tomorrow is your birthday. I spent six months preparing the celebration. I tracked down your childhood best friend you’d lost touch with. I invited your favorite university professor. I ordered a cake baked to your grandmother’s special recipe — only made in one place in Moscow. And what? None of that matters because your spoiled little sister needed a private driver?”
“Stop the theatrics. We’ll cancel the restaurant, celebrate at home, with family.”
“Family?” — you mean your mother and sister?
“Of course. They’re family.”
“And me?”
“You too, naturally. Don’t start with the jealousy.”
“I’m not jealous. I’M LEAVING.”
Victoria went to the bedroom and pulled out a suitcase.
“What are you doing? Vika, stop!”
“I’m going to my parents in Nizhny. Celebrate your birthday with Mommy and your little sister. I’m sure they’ll be delighted.”
“Victoria, ENOUGH! Put the suitcase down!”
“NO.”
She quickly packed the essentials. Avdei stood in the doorway, stunned by what was happening.
“Are you serious? Over this nonsense?”
“If four years of humiliation is nonsense to you, then yes, I’m serious.”
“Where will you go? You don’t even have decent money!”
Victoria stopped and turned slowly to her husband.
“I have a business that brings in one and a half million a month in net profit. I own an apartment I rent out. I have savings that I never merged with the family account because your mother kept implying I was only after your money. So don’t worry about me.”
Avdei went pale.
“One and a half million? But you said—”
“I said the business was doing well. You never asked for details. It was easier for you and your mother to think of me as a failure, selling ‘flowers.’”
Avdei’s phone rang. The screen read “Mom.”
“Pick it up,” Victoria said tiredly. “Don’t make Mommy wait.”
Avdei mechanically answered and put it on speaker.
“AVDEI! Has that bitch already arrived? I demand she IMMEDIATELY apologize to Milana! And to me! Or she should get out of your apartment!”
“Mom, I’ll call you back…”
“DON’T you dare hang up! You must put that upstart in her place! Show who’s boss in this house! I will not tolerate such treatment of our family!”
Victoria grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door.
“Vika, wait!”
“Tell Evelina Markovna — she got what she wanted. I’m LEAVING.”
The door closed quietly behind her, but to Avdei it sounded like thunder.
“Avdei? AVDEI! Are you listening to me?” his mother was screeching through the phone.
He hung up and dropped onto the couch.
The next day — his birthday — turned into a complete nightmare. Victoria wasn’t answering his calls. At the restaurant Marseille, he was greeted by Alena, who coldly informed him that the celebration had been canceled at the birthday boy’s request.
“But I didn’t—”
“Your mother called the administrator last night and said you’d be celebrating privately at home with family. We’ll refund Victoria’s deposit to her card.”
Guests whom Victoria had invited called with congratulations, confused why the event had been called off. His childhood friend Pasha — whom Victoria had tracked down through social media — was especially upset. He had flown in from St. Petersburg just for this.
At home, his mother and sister were waiting. On the table sat a supermarket cake and cheap champagne.
“Happy birthday, son! See? We took care of you. Not like that ungrateful girl.”
“Mom, what is this?” Avdei pointed at the pathetic cake.
“A festive dinner! Milana picked it. Isn’t that right, darling?” Evelina cooed, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.
“Where’s Victoria?” Milana asked, looking around.
“She left for her parents’. Because of you two.”
“AND GOOD RIDDANCE!” his mother exclaimed joyfully. “We won’t tolerate hysterics here! You’ll find yourself a better wife. From a proper family, with a dowry.”
“Mom, Vika is from a proper family. And she runs a successful business.”
“Ha! Flowers! Some business!”
“Her studio is one of the most popular in Moscow. She has contracts with major hotels and restaurants. She organized the wedding of the deputy mayor.”
Evelina pursed her lips.
“Doesn’t matter. Her character is awful. Always acting superior.”
Avdei looked at his mother, then at his sister. Suddenly, he saw what he had never noticed before — pettiness, envy, malice.
“You know what? Go home. I want to be alone.”
“But son! It’s your birthday!”
“HOME!”
Mother and sister left, their lips pressed in offense.
Avdei was alone in the empty apartment. On the hallway table lay plane tickets — Victoria had booked them a week-long trip to Italy as his birthday gift. Now the tickets looked like fate’s mockery.
A week passed. Victoria didn’t return and still ignored his calls. Avdei tried reaching her through friends, but they coolly replied that she was fine and asked him not to disturb her.
Trouble began piling up at work too. It turned out that several major clients had come to his company thanks to recommendations from Victoria’s business partners. Now those clients were starting to doubt the company’s reliability — if a man can’t even maintain peace in his own household, how can he be trusted with multi-million contracts?
Evelina called ten times a day, demanding to start divorce proceedings.
“We must get ahead of that snake! She’ll probably try to take half of your property!”
“Mom, the apartment is jointly owned. She is entitled to half.”
“Entitled to WHAT? You paid for everything!”
“No. She paid exactly half. I have the documents.”
Evelina went silent, then shrieked:
“She PLANNED IT! Just so she could take the apartment later!”
“Mom, ENOUGH! You are the reason my wife left! Because of your rudeness and arrogance!”
“Me? I only wanted what was best for you!”
“You insulted her at every encounter! Called her a beggar, when she earns more than Milana!”
“DON’T YOU DARE compare that upstart to your sister!”
He hung up.
Two weeks later, he received a call from an unknown number.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Krasnov. My name is Makar Volokhov. I represent the interests of Victoria Andreyevna. We need to meet to discuss division of joint property.”
“She’s filing for divorce?”
“Not yet. But she wants to divide assets and separate residences. If you agree to settle amicably, divorce may be avoided.”
“I… I need to talk to her.”
“Mrs. Andreyevna does not wish for direct communication. All matters through me.”
Avdei agreed to the meeting. On the appointed day, he arrived at the law office. Victoria wasn’t there — only her attorney, a sharp-eyed young man.
“So then,” Makar began. “My client is willing to leave the apartment entirely to you in exchange for monetary compensation for her share. The sum — fifteen million rubles.”
“Fifteen million? But the apartment is worth twenty-five!”
“Correct. Half is twelve and a half. Plus two and a half million — compensation for moral damages from four years of systematic humiliation by your mother, which you failed to prevent.”
“This is blackmail!”
“This is an offer. You may refuse — then we’ll see each other in court. I have audio recordings of your mother insulting my client, witness testimonies, written correspondence. A judge may order you to pay far more.”
“What recordings?”
Makar took out his phone and pressed play. Evelina’s voice filled the room — calling Victoria a beggar, vermin, freeloader.
“Where is this from?”
“Mrs. Andreyevna recorded every encounter with your mother on a dictaphone for the past two years. For her own protection. She knew the day would come when it would be needed.”
Avdei signed all the documents. A month later, the money was transferred, and Victoria officially relinquished her share of the apartment.
He tried to track her down, to find out where she lived. But it was as if Victoria had vanished. The flower studio was still operating, but the owner never appeared there — Alena handled everything.
And then the real problems began.
The tax audit came out of nowhere. It turned out that Evelina Markovna — who had been “helping” her son with accounting for years — had been running shady schemes through his company on behalf of her friends. The sums were enormous.
“Mom, what is this?” Avdei shook the papers in front of her face.
“My heart may be sick, but I’m not stupid!” Evelina screeched. “I thought those were small earnings from your company!”
The fine amounted to eight million rubles. Plus penalties. Plus the threat of criminal charges.
The moment Milana heard there were tax problems, she immediately packed her bags and flew off to a friend in Miami, leaving Rostislav to deal with her credit card debts.
“Mom, do you understand I could go to prison?” Avdei clutched his head.
“You’re exaggerating! Pay the fine and that’s it.”
“With what money? I gave Victoria fifteen million, and now another eight to the tax office!”
It took six months to sort everything out. Avdei sold his car, took out loans, mortgaged his share of the business. Evelina suddenly grew much quieter and called far less often — apparently realizing her son was no longer a walking gold mine.
A year later, when most of the issues were finally resolved, Avdei ran into Alena by chance outside a shopping mall.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she replied curtly and headed toward the exit.
“Alena, wait! How is Victoria?”
His wife’s friend stopped and gave him a slow once-over.
“She’s doing great. She’s happy.”
“Can you tell her I’d like to meet her? To talk?”
“Fine.”
The meeting took place a week later in a small café. Victoria looked wonderful — rested, serene. A new ring sparkled on her hand.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” Avdei began. “I wanted to apologize. For everything. You were right. Mom… she really is unbearable.”
“Thank you for the apology.”
“Vika, maybe we could try again? I’ve learned a lot, I’ve changed…”
“Avdei,” she interrupted gently, “we are different people. You will always choose your mother — I know that. And I need a husband who will stand by me.”
“But I love you!”
“And I don’t anymore. I’m sorry.”
She nodded toward the ring.
“We’ll divorce peacefully?”
Avdei nodded. There was no other way.
He signed the divorce papers a month later. That same evening, Evelina called again, complaining about something the building management had done.
“Mom,” Avdei said quietly, “I’m tired.”
And at that very moment, Victoria was standing in line at the registry office, filing paperwork for a new marriage license. Next to her, holding her hand, was a tall man with kind eyes — Dmitry, a surgeon who never yelled and considered the floral business a serious profession.
