Elena Nikolaevna stopped at the familiar door, took out her keys, and stepped into her son’s apartment. A woman’s laughter and the scent of perfume greeted her in the hallway. She walked into the living room and froze—the sofa was occupied by an unfamiliar woman in a bathrobe, clearly just out of bed.
— Artur! — she called to her son, trying to keep her dignity.
He appeared from the kitchen with a mug in his hand, saw his mother, and visibly tensed.
— Mom, you could have warned me… — he began irritably.
— You have a wife, Irina, and a daughter, Svetlana, — Elena Nikolaevna cut him off, ignoring the stranger’s presence. — Or is your memory as selective as your conscience?
— That’s exactly what I’m going to talk to my wife about today, — Artur replied calmly, putting on a show of indifference.
The woman in the robe rose and demonstratively hugged him, as if staking a claim.
— Introduce us, darling, — she purred with a poisonous smile. — Though I suppose introductions are superfluous. I’m Olga.
— And I’m a disappointed mother, — Elena Nikolaevna answered coolly. — I hope you realize you’re intruding on someone else’s family?
— Oh, but isn’t family about love? — Olga sneered. — And all I see here is… habit.
— There’s nothing for me to do here, — Elena Nikolaevna threw at her son, turning to leave. — But remember, Artur: as you sow, so shall you reap.
On the way home she remembered how, twenty-five years earlier, she and her husband Nikolai had moved into this very apartment. She sold her grandmother’s dacha, he put in his savings—they bought it together, dreaming of a happy family. But life turned out differently. Constant quarrels, mutual reproaches, coldness. They didn’t dare separate—habit and the fear of losing the apartment bound them more tightly than any feelings. Little Artur grew up amid conflicts and took them for normal.
“A bad omen—raising children on the ruins of a marriage,” she thought bitterly. “They go on to build the same ruins, just with a prettier coat of paint.”
When their son turned seven, Nikolai and some friends started a small cooperative. Business picked up, and now, fifteen years later, their company had become a major construction holding with Nikolai at the helm. The money came, but not happiness—only new reasons to fight.
In the spacious four-room apartment she was met by her daughter-in-law Irina, holding her granddaughter Sveta. The girl reached joyfully for her grandmother, and for a moment Elena Nikolaevna’s heart thawed.
— How is Artur? — Irina asked, rocking the child. — You look upset.
Elena Nikolaevna frowned at her. Irina was a good wife and mother, but her son had clearly decided to destroy his family. She knew perfectly well who that woman in the robe was—Olga from the bank where Artur worked.
— Irochka, my dear, — she began cautiously, — life sometimes hands us painful lessons. You’ll see for yourself when he comes.
— Did something happen? — Irina grew anxious.
— The thing that happens when men think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, — Elena Nikolaevna said tartly. — Though more often than not it’s just artificial turf.
Meanwhile, Artur was hugging Olga on that same sofa, savoring the illusion of freedom.
— Everything’s going as it should, — he said smugly. — Soon I’ll be free, and we’ll really start living.
— At last, — Olga ran a playful finger down his chest. — I was beginning to think you were one of those men who plan to leave their wives all their lives and die married anyway.
— Not funny, — Artur winced. — I just need to do everything properly. I have a reputation.
— What reputation? — Olga laughed. — Secret lover of a bank clerk? Very respectable.
Artur thought of how his father had once insisted he become a lawyer—“good for the company.” But he chose programming and never regretted it. The conflict with his father peaked when Artur announced he wanted to marry Irina.
— No time, I’ve got a meeting, — Nikolai tossed out then, without even lifting his eyes from the papers.
His mother took her husband’s side, as always. Artur registered the marriage with Irina in secret, without even telling his parents. “Let them learn from a fait accompli,” he decided.
After Svetlana was born, Elena Nikolaevna decided to mend things and invited her daughter-in-law and granddaughter to live with her. Since then Irina had stayed with her mother-in-law, while Artur more and more often slept at his bachelor pad, blaming work. That was why his mother had decided to check on him.
By evening Artur came to his mother’s place, still floating from his meeting with Olga. Elena Nikolaevna wasn’t home. Irina met him with a gloomy face and eyes red from crying.
— Your father died today, — she said without preamble, her voice trembling. — I called you several times, but you didn’t answer.
— What?.. — Artur sank into a chair, his smug confidence dropping from his face at once.
— A heart attack. Right in the office, — Irina looked at him in pain. — And the worst part? You never found the courage to make peace with him. And now you never will.
— I… I didn’t know… — Artur muttered, but deep down he was already calculating what would happen to his father’s company. The inheritance could change everything.
— Of course it’s terrible, — he said, feigning grief. — Dad was… a difficult man, but he achieved a lot.
Irina looked at him with contempt—the falseness was obvious even to a child, let alone a woman who had lived with him for years.
— You’re thinking about the money, aren’t you? — she asked quietly. — At a moment like this you’re thinking about the inheritance?
— Don’t talk nonsense, — he snapped. — We just need to be practical. Life goes on.
— Yes, life goes on, — Irina agreed with a bitter smile. — Especially yours. With that… Olga.
After reaching his mother by phone, Artur learned she’d only gotten the news about her husband at noon and was now at the morgue handling paperwork. His next call was to the company lawyer.
— My condolences, Artur, — the lawyer said. — The board has already met and chosen an interim manager. As for the inheritance of assets—it all comes down to the will. We need to read it.
— When can that be done? — Artur pressed.
— After the funeral. But you understand that you’re most likely to be the primary heir?
— Of course, — Artur smirked. — Who else?
When he returned to the room, Irina was in an armchair, rocking their sleeping daughter. Sveta slept peacefully, unaware her grandfather was gone.
— Your mother told me about your mistress, — Irina said quietly. — What are you going to do now?
— I’ll file for divorce, — he answered honestly, deciding there was no point hiding anymore. — There’s no sense continuing this farce.
— Excellent, — Irina looked up at him, and there was no pain in her eyes. — And you’ll give up your daughter?
Artur was surprised by the proposal—he’d expected tears, pleading, an attempt to hold him.
— If you don’t mind… — she went on carefully. — Fewer problems with alimony and visitation…
— I don’t mind, — Artur nodded. — In fact, I insist.
— Then it’s settled, — Irina exhaled in relief.
“How simple it turned out,” he thought, not realizing he’d walked straight into a trap.
The funeral was modest—Nikolai had never liked pomp. The divorce was finalized quickly, by mutual consent. He relinquished his parental rights, agreeing only to pay child support. Elena Nikolaevna was furious at such a decision.
— Get rid of that… creature! — she demanded when Olga moved in with her son. — She destroyed your family!
— Don’t meddle in my life! — he snapped. — I’m an adult; I know what I’m doing!
— An adult? — his mother retorted acidly. — Adults don’t abandon their children for the first pretty stranger!
— Olga isn’t some random passerby! We love each other!
— Love… — Elena Nikolaevna laughed bitterly. — We’ll see how long that love lasts.
Realizing Artur had inherited his father’s stubbornness, Elena Nikolaevna decided to support her son. “Grandchildren can be many, but a son is one,” she reasoned.
— Irina, you need to move out, — she announced to her former daughter-in-law a week after the divorce. — I’ll cover a rental for you at first so you can get on your feet.
— Give me four months, — Irina asked calmly. — That’ll be enough to sort everything out.
— All right, — Elena Nikolaevna agreed magnanimously. — But after that I’ll pack your things myself and take them wherever you say. I don’t want you dragging this out.
— Don’t worry, — Irina smiled. — I’m not one to cling to the past.
Time moved slowly and inexorably. Understanding that reconciliation with his son was nowhere in sight, not even in the distant future, Nikolai decided to transfer all his assets to his granddaughter Svetlana—both the share in the apartment and the savings account and the company stock. When the inheritance papers were properly executed, Irina paid her mother-in-law a polite visit.
— Elena Nikolaevna, it’s time for you to vacate my apartment, — Irina said with cold courtesy.
— How is it yours? — the mother-in-law asked in surprise.
— It used to be, — Irina corrected calmly. — Now the apartment belongs entirely to Svetlana, and I am her legal representative until she comes of age. However, I’m ready to buy out your former share at a fair price.
Elena Nikolaevna blinked in confusion—where had this gray mouse gotten such nerve and money? But there really was no choice.
— You… you do realize this is dishonorable? — she tried to prick her conscience.
— I’m being sensible, — Irina replied evenly. — You always said I wasn’t practical enough. Apparently, my education wasn’t in vain.
At the notary’s office, Elena Nikolaevna got a true shock—neither she nor Artur received anything under the will. Everything went to little Svetlana.
— How is that possible?! — she shouted at her son. — You promised you’d sort it out! You said your father would forgive you!
— I thought… — Artur mumbled, riffling through the papers. — He couldn’t have done this to me!
— He could, and he did, — the notary said dryly. — The will is properly executed. Challenging it will be extremely difficult.
— We’ll try! — Elena fumed. — We’ll find a way!
— With what funds? — the lawyer inquired. — Court costs won’t be cheap.
When she learned that Artur had been left with practically nothing, Olga staged a grand scandal—smashing dishes and screaming for the whole neighborhood to hear.
— You promised me a well-off, beautiful, carefree life! — she shrieked as she packed. — You went on about the inheritance, the apartment! And it turns out you’re a worthless loser and pauper!
— Olga, wait, I’ll fix it! — Artur tried to stop her. — We’ll figure something out!
— Fix what, you pathetic man? — she snorted in contempt. — You couldn’t even persuade your own father! And I’m taking the car—it’s registered to me!
— But what about our plans? The wedding?
— What wedding—with a bankrupt? — she laughed nastily. — Find a proper job first, then we’ll talk. For now—goodbye, loser!
With boxes of her belongings, Elena Nikolaevna returned to the two-room apartment with her son—the very one she and her late husband had bought twenty-five years ago. She decided not to waste the money from the sold share—what if her son, in a fit of anger, threw her out too.
— Mom, this is temporary, — Artur tried to reassure her, clearing space in the closet. — I’ll find a better job, save up…
— What job? — she said with a bitter smirk. — You’ve no management experience. Who needs you?
— We’ll think of something, — he mumbled uncertainly.
— Oh, you’re good at thinking things up, — his mother said acidly. — You’ve already dreamed up a life like this for us…
And in the spacious four-room apartment, Irina was signing a contract as the construction holding’s executive director. Little Svetlana ran happily through the rooms with a Labrador puppy, whose bark rang with sheer joy.
— Mom, look how funny he is! — the girl shouted. — He already knows his name! Barsik, come here!
Irina smiled, watching her daughter. How wonderful that everything had turned out so well. No more betrayals, no daily humiliations from her mother-in-law, no more scenes and reproaches.
— Mommy, why doesn’t Dad live with us anymore? — Svetlana asked, crouching beside the puppy.
— Because sometimes adults can’t come to an agreement, sunshine, — Irina explained gently. — But you and I are fine on our own, aren’t we?
— Of course! — the girl laughed. — We have Barsik now, and you don’t cry at night anymore!
In the next room, company documents lay on the desk—now all of it belonged to her daughter. Which meant it needed competent management until Svetlana came of age.
The phone rang—the new secretary was calling.
— Irina Sergeyevna, there’s an important meeting tomorrow with the investors on the new residential complex, — she reported. — The documents are prepared.
— Excellent, I’ll be ready, — Irina answered confidently.
She set down the phone and looked out the large living-room window. Somewhere out there, in a cramped two-room flat, Artur and his mother were calculating child support for Svetlana. And here—her new life, which she had built with her own hands and mind.
— Mommy, was Granddad very smart? — Svetlana asked, coming up to her mother.
— Very smart and a fair man, dear, — Irina replied warmly, hugging her daughter. — He understood people well.
— So he knew you’d take good care of his work?
— Exactly so, my little wise one.
Meanwhile, in the old apartment, Artur was fruitlessly combing through job listings, while Elena Nikolaevna spat venom at his every move.
— See? They want experience! — she jeered. — And what can you do? Spend money and swap wives, that’s all!
— Mother, don’t, — her son pleaded wearily. — It’s miserable enough as it is.
— And you think I’m enjoying this? — she flared. — I thought I’d live decently in old age, and now I’m back in this hole! All because of your stupidity!
— I’ll make it right, I’ll find a job…
— Make what right, you hapless womanizer? — she sneered. — You should have studied law like your father advised; now you’ll be fixing computers—what a fine prospect!
At that very time Irina was studying the company’s financial reports, marveling at her father-in-law’s foresight. The old man had truly built a profitable business that would now serve as a solid foundation for Svetlana’s future.
— Mom, are we rich? — the girl suddenly asked, peeking over her shoulder at the numbers.
— We’re comfortable, sweetheart, — Irina answered carefully. — But the greatest wealth is brains and hard work. Money is just a tool.
— Like a hammer?
— Something like that, — her mother laughed. — With a hammer you can build a house, or you can wreck one. It all depends on whose hands it’s in.
— Got it! — the girl nodded. — And Daddy didn’t know how to use that hammer?
— Sadly, no, dear. He didn’t.
And that was the plain truth. A very different truth from the one they once thought they knew.