Elena carefully stirred the sauce when the lady of the house peeked into the kitchen. Svetlana paused at the threshold, scanning the room with a critical eye, then grimaced in displeasure.
“Why is it so stuffy here? You need to air out more often,” said Svetlana, adjusting her perfectly styled hair. “And this smell… What is that scent?” “Caramel sauce for a new dessert,” Elena replied calmly, continuing to stir the thickening mixture. After two years of working in this house, the cook had grown accustomed to the constant comments from the new mistress.
“Sure, of course,” Svetlana said doubtfully, stepping closer and peering into the pot. “Last time, your ‘masterpiece’ was inedible.” Elena remained silent, though she vividly remembered how Dmitry Viktorovich had praised that dessert and even asked for seconds. But Svetlana’s presence always made her want to avoid conflict. The new wife treated the staff with disdain, constantly reminding them of their “place.”
Suddenly, a child’s shout came from the hallway: “Igor! Come back immediately!” Svetlana frowned: “These children are completely out of control. Running back and forth as if it’s a playground. Absolutely no manners.” Elena cast a quick glance at the mistress. She knew that Svetlana clearly had no fondness for her husband’s children, though she tried to mask it in front of Dmitry Viktorovich. However, as soon as he was away, her attitude changed.
A breathless twelve-year-old Igor burst into the kitchen, followed by nine-year-old Lisa. “Give it back! It’s my notebook!” Lisa tried to reach the school notebook her brother held high above his head.
“Children!” Svetlana’s sharp cry made them both freeze in place. “What behavior! Go to your rooms and do your homework!” “We’ve almost finished it,” Lisa muttered, looking down. “I said go!” Svetlana’s voice rang with metal.
The children sullenly left the kitchen. Elena noticed how much they had changed since Svetlana appeared. They used to often pop into the kitchen, help bake cookies, laugh, and talk about school. Now, they tried to minimize their presence around their stepmother.
“By the way, Elena,” Svetlana turned to the cook again. “We will have guests this evening. I ordered a special dinner.” “But the menu is already set…” “It will be changed,” Svetlana interrupted. “Everything is planned. Here’s the list of dishes,” she threw a sheet of paper on the table. “Moreover, a cake will be delivered from the bakery. Make sure it is stored correctly until the evening.”
Elena looked at the list—complicated appetizers, exquisite main dishes. There was too little time left for preparation.
“And please, be more careful this time,” Svetlana added, heading towards the exit. “The guests are important. You can throw out your dessert. It’s not worth the risk.”
When the mistress left, Elena sighed heavily. Lately, Svetlana had been arranging such sudden receptions more often, especially during Dmitry Viktorovich’s business trips. He had left three days ago, and his return was not expected for another week.
Closer to the evening, the cake was delivered. Elena carefully inspected the box—a luxury bakery, lavish decoration. Opening the lid, she immediately recognized the familiar scent. Among the decorations were crushed nuts.
Her heart skipped a beat. She vividly remembered Dmitry Viktorovich’s strict prohibition: no nuts in the house. He and both children had a severe allergy. Even a minor amount could trigger a dangerous reaction.
Elena hurriedly went to find Svetlana. The mistress was just trying on a new dress in front of the living room mirror.
“Svetlana, excuse me, but the cake contains nuts. This could be dangerous for the children,” the cook cautiously informed her.
“I thought you were a cooking expert, not a doctor,” Svetlana snapped, adjusting the folds on her dress. “Stick to your duties.”
“But they really have a serious allergy. There was even a hospitalization last year…”
“Enough!” the mistress abruptly cut her off. “I know what to feed my family. Your job is to follow instructions.”
Elena returned to the kitchen, her heart squeezed by anxiety. Something about Svetlana’s behavior seemed suspicious. Could she have deliberately chosen a cake with nuts? To spite the children? Or was there another reason?
Checking the clock, Elena realized there was no time to ponder. Guests were due to arrive within an hour, and there was still the main course and appetizers to prepare. The cook tried to focus on her work, but her thoughts kept returning to the potentially dangerous dessert.
After a while, Lisa peeked into the kitchen.
“Elena, can I stay here?” the girl asked quietly. “I’ve already done my homework.”
“Of course, dear,” the cook responded softly. “Just be careful—there’s a lot of hot stuff.”
Lisa nodded and settled in her favorite spot—a high stool by the window. Elena watched her discreetly. The girl used to always happily help in the kitchen, but now she just sat there, afraid to move too much.
It was time to move the cake to the serving table. Elena carefully lifted the box and headed towards the exit. Passing by the sink, she ‘accidentally’ stumbled. The box slipped from her hands and fell to the floor with a dull thud. The lid flew off, turning the cake into a chaotic mess of cream and sponge.
“What have you done?!” Svetlana’s icy voice came from behind.
Elena turned around. The mistress stood in the doorway, her face twisted with fury.
“Sorry, it was an accident,” the cook replied calmly, though her heart was pounding. “I’ll clean it up.”
Svetlana glared at Elena in a way that seemed to make the air crackle with tension. Lisa shrank fearfully on her stool.
“Clean up this mess,” Svetlana hissed. “And prepare a replacement. Quickly!”
When the mistress left, Elena began cleaning up the cake remains. Her hands trembled slightly—she knew her action would not go without consequences, but she saw no other way out.
Three days passed. Dmitry Viktorovich returned unexpectedly earlier than planned, causing a storm of joy among the children. Igor and Lisa literally hung on their father, eager to be the first to share news from school.
“Alright, my little ones,” Dmitry Viktorovich smiled, “let me at least change clothes. Then you can tell me everything in detail.”
Elena, watching this scene from the kitchen, involuntarily smiled. With the return of the master, the house seemed to come to life, filled with children’s laughter and warmth. Even Svetlana temporarily removed her mask of perpetual dissatisfaction, portraying the exemplary wife and stepmother.
But by nightfall, the situation drastically changed. Elena was just finishing dinner preparations when the kitchen door burst open with a loud bang. Svetlana appeared in the threshold—her face flushed with bright rouge, her eyes sparkling ominously.
“Thief!” the mistress shrieked, rapidly moving towards the cook. “I know for a fact you did it!”
“What are you talking about?” Elena asked, perplexed, involuntarily taking a step back.
Instead of answering, Svetlana abruptly grabbed the cook by her blouse and began to shake her, not giving her a moment to recover. “Where is it? Where did you hide it?” she screamed, continuing to rummage through Elena’s pockets and folds of clothing.
The noise attracted other staff members: maid Vera, gardener Stepan, and driver Andrey. All of them watched the unfolding scene with bewilderment.
“I didn’t take anything,” Elena firmly declared, trying to free herself from Svetlana’s grip.
“You’re lying!” the mistress shouted, completely losing control of herself. “I saw you digging through my things! Get out of my house! You’re fired!”
Seizing Elena by the arm, Svetlana dragged her towards the exit. At that moment, Dmitry Viktorovich suddenly appeared in the kitchen. The master froze at the door, not believing his eyes.
“What’s happening here?” he asked sternly, shifting his gaze from his wife to the cook.
Svetlana immediately let go of Elena’s arm and turned to her husband, adopting an expression of indignation. “Dima, I caught her!” she blurted out, pointing a trembling finger at the cook. “She tried to steal my jewelry! Can you imagine? We trusted her!”
Dmitry Viktorovich frowned: “Which jewelry specifically?”
“My diamond bracelet!” Svetlana exclaimed theatrically, flailing her arms. “I noticed her lurking around our bedroom. And then the bracelet disappeared!”
Elena silently observed the scene, feeling a lump rise in her throat. How much deceit and falsehood were in the mistress’s words.
“Dmitry Viktorovich,” she spoke quietly but firmly, “I didn’t take any jewelry. But there’s something you need to know.”
Svetlana quickly turned to the cook: “Shut up! Don’t you dare justify yourself!”
“It’s related to the cake ordered for the festive dinner three days ago,” Elena continued, looking directly into the master’s eyes. “It contained nuts. I knew it was extremely dangerous for you and the children, so I deliberately dropped it. But your wife simply ignored my warnings.”
A heavy silence hung in the kitchen. Dmitry Viktorovich slowly shifted his gaze to his wife. Svetlana paled, sweat beads appearing on her forehead.
“It’s… it’s a misunderstanding,” she stammered, stumbling over her words. “I just didn’t know…”
“You didn’t know?” Dmitry Viktorovich’s voice became cold and harsh. “Didn’t know about the allergy that I’ve explained to you dozens of times? About how even the slightest amount of nuts can have serious consequences?”
“I thought it was an exaggeration,” Svetlana attempted to smile. “Besides, the children might not have even tried that cake that evening…”
“Might not have tried?” Dmitry Viktorovich’s voice grew louder and sharper. “You endangered the safety of my children! For what? For some empty show?”
The assembled kitchen staff silently watched the unfolding drama. Maid Vera covered her mouth with her hand, while driver Andrey shook his head disapprovingly.
“Dima, let me explain…” Svetlana began, but her husband interrupted her: “No, now you listen to me. Pack your things and leave the house. Right now.”
“What?” Svetlana nervously chuckled. “You can’t do that…”
“I can,” Dmitry Viktorovich said calmly but firmly. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing now. Your presence here is no longer bearable.”
Svetlana helplessly looked around, hoping to find some support, but encountered only cold or turned-away faces. With a noisy sigh, she turned on her high heels and swiftly exited the kitchen.
As her steps faded in the corridor, Dmitry Viktorovich slowly sat down on a chair. “Elena,” he broke the long silence. “Thank you. For the truth, for caring about the children… for everything. Did Svetlana accuse you of theft because of this situation?”
“It’s simply my duty,” the cook replied reservedly.
“No,” the master shook his head. “It’s much more than just a duty. I’d like to offer you a new position—head of the kitchen. Of course, with a corresponding salary increase.”
Elena barely held back tears: “Thank you, Dmitry Viktorovich. I accept your offer.”
That same evening, Svetlana left the house, taking her belongings. The children, learning what had happened, didn’t even bother to come out to say goodbye to their stepmother.
Gradually, the atmosphere in the house began to change. Igor and Lisa started to enjoy life again, their laughter once again filled every corner of the dwelling. They often stopped by the kitchen, helping Elena cook and trying new dishes.
And Elena, watching the happy faces of the children, was reassured each time: her decision was right. Sometimes, a small, seemingly simple act committed for the sake of good can prevent serious consequences and protect those who truly need protection.