“What are you wearing?” Gleb said with disgust, slowly and contemptuously looking over his wife from head to toe. “You look like some market hag! Do you even realize that we are now people of status?”
Each word struck Irina like a whip’s lash. “People of status”… She looked at her husband but did not recognize him. Where was the modest, kind, slightly shy man to whom she said “yes” twenty years ago? The one with whom they started from scratch, cramped in a rented little room on a creaky folding bed, eating instant noodles straight from the boxes and dreaming of something bigger, of true happiness?
And now—they had achieved it. Their construction company “Monolit” had become one of the most respected and successful in the city. They turned a small start-up into a real empire. But now the word “their” existed only in Irina’s memory. Gleb seemed to have erased her contribution to the shared business as an unnecessary margin note. He acted as if he had built everything alone, without her, without her sleepless nights, without her expertise, without her blood and sweat.
Irina remembered everything. How she sat over estimates while he slept, how she double-checked every number to keep their fragile company from collapsing. She remembered how she came up with the name “Monolit” so it would become a symbol of reliability, a support to lean on. But Gleb had long forgotten all this. To him, she was now just an inconvenient reminder of the past, when he was an ordinary man, not “a man of status.”
He stopped seeing her as a partner, as an equal. He pushed her away from the business like an unnecessary thing:
“Ira, don’t meddle, this is men’s work,” he said coldly when she tried to understand new contracts.
“Ira, your concern is the home and comfort,” he added icily when she asked about large expenses.
And then Diana appeared. Young, bold, with sharp claws for nails and eyes full of cold calculation. Gleb didn’t hide her; on the contrary, he flaunted her like a trophy, like a new expensive Mercedes he wanted to show off to society. It wasn’t just infidelity—it was cruel, cynical humiliation.
Irina felt like an old thing thrown into the corner of a forgotten past. She saw how her place in Gleb’s life was taken by another—younger, flashier, trendier. And she understood that for him she was no longer a wife, not a partner, not love, but just an extra person standing in the way of his new, “statusful” life.
The climax happened on a rainy Thursday. As usual, Gleb left for another “important business trip.” And at that very moment, the doorbell rang sharply, insistently, almost rudely.
Irina opened the door and froze. Diana was standing in the doorway. Impeccably styled hair, a cashmere coat, perfect makeup, and that same contemptuous smirk that could make even walls shrink in shame.
“May I come in? Or are we going to stand here like poor relatives?”
Without waiting for permission, she walked into the living room and boldly sat in the armchair, as if the hostess returning home.
“I have a message for you from Gleb,” she said lazily, examining her perfect nails. “He wants a divorce. And he really wants it to be quick and quiet. He’s even ready to be generous.”
She carelessly tossed a thick folder of documents onto the coffee table, like a discarded sack.
“Gleb offers you a deal. To avoid splitting the business—which, as you know, you neither created nor developed—he’s leaving you this apartment. Completely. And you sign a waiver of any claims on ‘Monolit.’ He’s even willing to add a little extra money on top—a kind of severance.”
She looked around the room with satisfaction.
“He’s giving you a week to think it over. Agree, that’s generous. You keep the apartment, and he keeps the business you don’t understand anyway.”
Those words stabbed Irina like icy daggers. Generosity? He was offering her her own apartment, bought with money she earned through sleepless nights, in exchange for what was the work of her entire life. What she had created, stood on, fought for.
The humiliation was so thick it seemed tangible. Her chest boiled like molten lava. Her ears rang, her heart pounded in her throat. But through the pain and shock, rage began to grow—cold, sharp as a razor. It pushed out the tears, despair, and weakness.
“Tell Gleb…” Irina’s voice was quiet but steel rang in it, “that I’ll think about it.”
As soon as the door closed behind Diana, Irina rushed into her husband’s study. There, in an old metal safe under piles of unnecessary papers, contracts, and memorandums, lay their shared history.
With trembling hands, she rifled through folders; her heart pounded as if trying to break free. She was searching for what hope remained.
She recalled: in the early years, when the company was just starting, she, being a lawyer by education, insisted that everything be properly documented.
“Ira, stop, there’s no time for paperwork!” Gleb laughed then. “We have to work, not shuffle papers!”
But she insisted. And now, in the furthest folder, Irina found it—a small, unremarkable, slightly yellowed sheet. The trademark registration certificate. The name “Monolit,” the logo, the brand. Everything that gave their company the right to exist.
She fixed her gaze on one single line: “Rights holder.” And there, black on white, stood only one name—Somova Irina Viktorovna.
Her hands stopped trembling. She pressed the paper to her chest like a treasure. At that moment, she understood: this was not just paper. It was her shield. And it would be her sword. Inside her raged a storm of hatred, but now it changed to an icy calm. The plan ripened instantly. Cruel. Ruthless. Just.
(Then the text repeats the beginning but more condensed, the narrative retelling the same events with slight variations.)
They wanted a deal? They would get one—on her terms.
A week later, they met in the notary’s office. Gleb and Diana sat side by side like two winners. He almost purred with pleasure, anticipating how he would rid himself of the past and gain full control of the company. Diana cast glances at Irina full of barely hidden triumph.
Irina was calm. She silently nodded as the notary read the agreement terms. Yes, she, Irina Somova, relinquished all rights to her share in the company “Monolit.” Yes, he, Gleb Somov, transferred full and sole ownership of the apartment to her.
“Are the terms clear? Any objections?” the notary asked in a colorless voice.
“All clear,” Gleb said smugly, pushing the documents toward Irina. “Sign it, Ira. Let’s start a new life.”
Irina took the pen without hesitation and signed. Then Gleb signed. The notary’s seal fell with a dull thud.
At the very moment Gleb leaned back in his chair with relief, Irina’s lawyer, who had been silently sitting in the corner, cleared his throat and placed another document on the table. The same slightly yellowed one.
“And now that the property division deal is honestly complete,” the lawyer said in a steady, cold voice, “we have one more small matter.”
Gleb’s face tightened. Diana’s smile froze.
“The trade name and registered trademark ‘Monolit’,” the lawyer continued, “are the intellectual property exclusively of my client. And she officially forbids you to use them from this moment on.”
Gleb looked back and forth between the document and Irina’s calm face. Slowly, painfully it dawned on him.
“What?.. What is this nonsense?” he stammered.
“This is not nonsense, Gleb Igorevich,” the lawyer’s voice was merciless. “It means that from this minute you have no right to call your company ‘Monolit.’ You still have the office and the concrete mixers. But the name, reputation, and all contracts tied to the brand belong to Irina Viktorovna. You just traded all of that for an apartment. Of your own free will.”
An overwhelming silence fell in the meeting room. Diana withdrew her hand from Gleb’s arm as if touched by a leper.
“Gleb, is this true?” she hissed.
“Wait… Ira…” Gleb jumped up, his face losing all arrogance. “We can negotiate! I’ll buy that trademark from you!”
Irina slowly stood.
“That brand is not for sale, Gleb. And now it will work for my new company. And you… you just traded it for an apartment. Which is now mine. By law. With your own signature.”
Six months later, the construction company “Monolit” under Irina Somova’s leadership signed several of the largest contracts in the city. She not only survived—she thrived, reclaiming not only her business but herself.
Gleb’s company, hastily renamed the bland “Stroy-Garant,” did not last a year. Losing its name and reputation, he quickly sank into debt and went bankrupt. Diana left him a month after that notary meeting, realizing her king was naked.
And Irina Somova was no longer a wife.
She was a businesswoman again.
And never again a victim.