Ekaterina woke up to a sharp ring at the door—insistent and demanding, the kind of ringing used either by officials or by uninvited guests. The wall clock showed half past ten in the morning.
“Mom, who is it?” sleepy Masha peered out from the bedroom.
“Stay in your room, sweetheart,” Ekaterina said, throwing on a light robe as she headed to the door.
On the doorstep stood two women holding folders—and Lyudmila Vasilyevna, her ex-mother-in-law. Her lips were twisted into a smug smile.
“Good afternoon. Child Protective Services. We received a complaint about improper care of minors,” one of the women announced dryly.
Ekaterina went cold. From the hallway came soft footsteps—curious Masha had slipped out after all.
“See for yourselves!” Lyudmila Vasilyevna exclaimed theatrically, throwing up her hands. “The children are neglected, underfed…”
“Masha, go back to your room!” Ekaterina turned to her daughter. “And wake your brother.”
“Do you see how she talks to the children?” her ex-mother-in-law wouldn’t let up. “And you still asked for documents! I warned you—action is needed immediately!”
Seven-year-old Masha, blinking in fear, stepped back, shifting her gaze from her mother to her grandmother. Ekaterina drew a deep breath, fighting to stay calm.
“Come in.” She stepped aside to let the inspectors pass. “Give me ten minutes to get dressed and gather the kids.”
In the bedroom, Ekaterina hurriedly pulled on pants and a sweater, her thoughts swirling. For four years after the divorce she’d hoped Lyudmila Vasilyevna would leave them alone. But it seemed her ex-mother-in-law had been nurturing plans for revenge all that time.
When Ekaterina returned to the living room, she found the inspectors already examining the apartment. One was writing something in a notebook; the other was taking photos on her phone.
“The fridge is empty!” Lyudmila Vasilyevna’s triumphant voice rang out from the kitchen.
“Because today is grocery day,” Ekaterina replied evenly. “I was planning to go to the supermarket after lunch.”
“And are your housing documents in order?” the woman with the notebook asked.
“Of course. I’ll bring them now.”
While Ekaterina searched for the folder of papers, ten-year-old Artyom appeared in the hallway.
“Grandma!” the boy shouted happily, rushing toward Lyudmila Vasilyevna.
“My golden boy!” the older woman hugged him with exaggerated tenderness. “You’ve gotten so thin, poor thing. Your mother doesn’t feed you at all, does she?”
Ekaterina clenched her teeth, swallowing her anger. Four years earlier, when she and Oleg were divorcing, Lyudmila Vasilyevna had tried to persuade her son to take the children. But Oleg had only waved her off.
“Mom, where would I put two kids? I’m at work from morning till night. Let them live with their mother—I pay child support.”
After that, Lyudmila Vasilyevna had shifted her focus to the grandchildren. At every visit she described what a wonderful father they had and what a useless mother Ekaterina was. Ekaterina had been forced to cut down their contact with their grandmother—it was too painful to watch Artyom and Masha look at her with suspicion after those visits.
“The documents are in order,” the inspector said, closing the folder. “Now show us the children’s rooms.”
“They share one,” Ekaterina said, leading the women to the kids’ bedroom.
“A bit cramped,” Lyudmila Vasilyevna remarked. “If they lived with me, each would have their own room.”
“In a three-room apartment?” Ekaterina couldn’t hold back.
“See how sharp she is?” her ex-mother-in-law pounced instantly. “And the children pick that up!”
The inspection lasted three hours. Lyudmila Vasilyevna nitpicked everything: a bit of dust here, toys out of place there, the living-room curtains should be replaced… Ekaterina silently produced documents, opened closets, pulled out the children’s medical records.
At last, the inspectors began to pack up.
“In the report we will note that the living conditions…” one of the women began.
“Wait!” Lyudmila Vasilyevna cut her off. “And the bruises? You didn’t ask about the bruises!”
Ekaterina froze.
“What bruises?”
“Artyom, sweetheart,” the older woman crooned, squatting in front of her grandson. “Show the lady what you have on your leg. Don’t be afraid—Mom won’t hurt you anymore.”
The boy looked at his grandmother in confusion.
“I fell off my rollerblades yesterday…”
“Of course,” Lyudmila Vasilyevna nodded sarcastically. “That’s what everyone says. But we know the truth, don’t we?”
Ekaterina felt nausea rise in her throat. Was her ex-mother-in-law really capable of something so vile?
“It may be worth scheduling a follow-up visit,” one of the inspectors said slowly. “With a psychologist involved…”
At that moment the doorbell rang again. Oleg—Ekaterina’s ex-husband—stood on the threshold.
“What’s going on here?” he frowned, looking everyone over.
“My son!” Lyudmila Vasilyevna beamed. “Finally you’ll see what poverty your children live in!”
“What kind of circus did you put on?” Oleg stepped inside, scowling as he surveyed the room. “Why did you call CPS?”
“Dad!” Artyom and Masha ran to him.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Lyudmila Vasilyevna spread her hands wide. “The kids are hungry, exhausted…”
“That’s enough,” Oleg cut her off. “I come by once every two weeks. They’re fine.”
Ekaterina stared at her ex-husband in surprise. In the four years since the divorce, Oleg had never supported her against his mother.
“Sorry,” Oleg said to the inspectors. “My mother… goes too far sometimes. Can we withdraw the complaint?”
“Son, what are you talking about?” Lyudmila Vasilyevna turned crimson. “I’m looking out for my grandchildren! Look at how cramped they are! And that…” she jabbed a finger at Ekaterina, “can’t even cook them proper food!”
“Mom cooks delicious food!” Masha blurted out brightly. “Pancakes, soup, and she even bakes pies!”
“And she helps with homework,” Artyom added. “And she takes me to hockey.”
Lyudmila Vasilyevna went pale.
“She’s turned you against your grandmother! I can see it!”
“Enough,” the senior inspector said, snapping the folder shut. “There are no grounds for concern. The children are well cared for, fed, and attend school and kindergarten. The medical documents are in order.”
“But the bruises!” the older woman insisted. “The boy has bruises!”
“I fell off my rollerblades,” Artyom said with a frown. “You saw me skating in the yard yourself.”
“The complaint will be dismissed,” the inspector concluded. “And I warn you: filing a false report carries liability.”
Lyudmila Vasilyevna choked with indignation.
“False report?! I’m telling the truth! Ask the neighbors! Vera Nikolayevna will confirm there’s noise here every evening…”
“That’s us practicing dances with Mom,” Masha said softly. “I’m preparing for a performance.”
Ekaterina wrapped an arm around her daughter and kissed her temple. Tears rose in her eyes—not from humiliation, but from pride in her children.
“We should go,” the inspectors said, heading to the door. “All the best.”
“Wait!” Lyudmila Vasilyevna rushed after them. “What about the follow-up? The psychologist? You said…”
“Mom, let’s go home,” Oleg said, taking her by the elbow. “Enough.”
“I’m not going anywhere! I have to protect my grandchildren from this—”
“From whom?” Oleg turned her to face him. “From their mother? The woman who works two jobs so the kids have everything? Do you know why I didn’t fight for custody? Because she’s the best mother.”
Ekaterina looked at Oleg, stunned. For the first time in four years, he said something good about her.
“You don’t understand anything!” Lyudmila Vasilyevna yanked her arm away. “She fooled you, and now she’s turning the kids against me…”
“No—you don’t understand,” Oleg said, shaking his head. “You’re hurting your own grandchildren. Come on. We need to talk.”
After they left, Ekaterina sank onto the sofa, her knees trembling.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” Artyom asked, worried.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Ekaterina said, hugging him. “I’m just tired.”
“Is Grandma not going to come anymore?” Masha asked.
“I don’t know, sunshine. How about breakfast instead? I’ll make pancakes.”
That evening Oleg called.
“I’m sorry about that show. I didn’t think Mom would sink that low.”
“It’s fine,” Ekaterina said wearily, rubbing her temples. “The main thing is the kids are okay.”
“Listen…” Oleg hesitated. “I’ve wanted to say this for a long time. You’re doing an amazing job—with the kids, with everything…”
“Thank you,” Ekaterina replied quietly.
“And one more thing… I had a serious talk with Mom. She won’t bother you anymore.”
Then there was another knock at the door. On the doorstep stood their neighbor, Svetlana Grigoryevna.
“Katya, don’t worry. We all saw what she pulled. If anything happens, the whole building will confirm what a wonderful mother you are.”
Touched, Ekaterina hugged the neighbor. Footsteps sounded in the hallway—several more neighbors came out onto the landing.
“Exactly,” Anna Petrovna from the third floor chimed in. “We see you taking the kids to school, helping them study. And she…” Anna shook her head. “She’s lost her conscience completely.”
From below, Lyudmila Vasilyevna’s loud voice echoed up the stairwell.
“You’re all in on it! Nobody wants to see the truth!”
She was climbing the stairs, waving her arms.
“I’ll take this to court! To the ministry! You’re all wrong!”
“Only you are wrong,” Ekaterina said calmly. “And you’ll have to answer for it.”
“I have to answer?” Lyudmila Vasilyevna laughed. “For saving my grandchildren? You ruined my family! You took my son away, turned the children against me!”
“No,” Ekaterina stepped closer. “You ruined your own family—with your anger, your hatred, your need to control everything. And you know what?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You will not see the grandchildren anymore.”
Lyudmila Vasilyevna froze, unable to find words. For the first time, her daughter-in-law had pushed back.
“You… you wouldn’t dare,” she breathed.
“Oh, I absolutely will,” Ekaterina straightened. “I have witnesses to today’s stunt. I have CPS’s conclusion. And most importantly—your false report. What do you think a judge will say?”
“What court?”
“Tomorrow I’m filing to restrict your contact with the children. Through the courts—officially.”
Lyudmila Vasilyevna turned white.
“Oleg won’t allow it!”
“Oleg?” Ekaterina gave a bitter half-smile. “Ask your son when he last took interest in the kids beyond sending support payments. It’s him telling you he visits every two weeks.”
Her phone vibrated in her pocket—Oleg was calling, as if on cue. Ekaterina declined the call.
“Goodbye, Lyudmila Vasilyevna. I hope this is our last meeting.”
Ekaterina closed the door, leaving her ex-mother-in-law standing there in shock. In the entryway, Artyom and Masha were watching.
“Mom, are we really not going to see Grandma anymore?” Artyom asked quietly.
“Only if you want to,” Ekaterina said. “When you’re older.”
Masha pressed against her mother.
“Can we eat pancakes now? I never did have breakfast…”
Ten days later, the first court hearing took place. The lawyer was confident.
“After that CPS situation, she has no chance. Especially with the neighbors ready to testify.”
Lyudmila Vasilyevna didn’t show up in court. But Oleg did—pale and worn out.
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” he asked during a break. “Mom has realized everything…”
“Realized?” Ekaterina shook her head. “She’s harassed me for four years. Turned the kids against me. And now she tried to weaponize CPS. No, Oleg. Enough.”
“But she’s my mother…”
“And these are your children,” Ekaterina said. “The ones you didn’t protect.”
Oleg looked away.
“I pay child support…”
“Sure,” Ekaterina said. “That’s completely enough, right?”
The court ruled in Ekaterina’s favor. Lyudmila Vasilyevna was forbidden to contact the grandchildren without the mother’s written consent.
Nine months passed. Ekaterina’s and the children’s lives transformed. Artyom took second place at the regional hockey competition. Masha won a dance contest. And Ekaterina could finally sleep peacefully, no longer fearing her ex-mother-in-law’s next stunt.
Lyudmila Vasilyevna tried to send gifts through Oleg, but he showed up less and less. Eventually he stopped coming altogether, limiting himself to child support transfers.
“You know,” Svetlana Grigoryevna said one day, “your ex-mother-in-law is completely alone now. Even her son hardly visits.”
“That’s her choice,” Ekaterina shrugged. “Everyone gets what they deserve.”
That evening, as she tucked the children into bed, Ekaterina thought about how strangely life is arranged. She’d lost her husband and his family—but gained true friends: neighbors who stood up to protect her.
And most of all, she finally felt truly strong. Strong enough to shield her children from any threat—even when that threat came from the people closest to them.