Diana, dear, you understand for yourself—your talent in my company will shine brighter than any star,” Irina Alexandrovna declared dramatically as she raised a glass of champagne. “After all, now we are one family.”
“Thank you for the offer, but…” the young woman hesitated, searching for the right words.
“I do not accept refusals,” her mother-in-law said with a smile, displaying flawless teeth. “Never.”
Outside the windows of the “Imperial” restaurant, the summer twilight deepened. Moscow glittered like jewels set on the black velvet of night. In a separate VIP lounge, Diana and Maksim’s engagement was being celebrated. Crystal glasses chimed elegantly, reflecting the soft light of Murano glass chandeliers.
The young architect nervously brushed a stray lock of chestnut hair from her face. Just yesterday she had imagined an entirely different life—her own firm, large-scale projects, complete creative freedom. Now before her lay the doors of the elite architectural studio “Kontinent,” owned by the empire of her future mother-in-law.
Maksim, a tall brunette with an open smile, rested his hand on the bride’s shoulder.
“Your mother has an impeccable eye for talent. Trust me, this is your moment to shine.”
His gentle voice somewhat eased Diana’s nerves, yet an inner voice continued to whisper uneasy thoughts. Irina Alexandrovna’s restaurant business had started with a small café in a sleepy suburb and now had morphed into a huge empire comprising design studios, construction companies, and a network of elite establishments all over the country.
Deep inside, a vague feeling began to form: this lavish dinner resembled more a business transaction than a family celebration.
A few months later…
“Brilliant! The design project for your first restaurant is simply stunning,” exclaimed the chief investor, admiring the model.
“It’s all thanks to my talented daughter-in-law,” purred Irina Alexandrovna, placing her hand on Diana’s shoulder. “Although, of course, without my guidance…”
“In fact, the idea for the atrium was entirely mine,” Diana quietly objected.
“Dear, don’t interrupt when I’m speaking,” her mother-in-law snapped as she tightened her grip on Diana’s shoulder. “Remember that.”
Half a year had passed since that memorable dinner. Over that time, Diana’s life had become unrecognizable. A luxurious apartment in “Triumph Palace,” a BMW X5 for official use, and the position of leading architect in a prestigious studio—one could say that dreams were coming true.
The sultry June air filled the spacious office where a fragile figure stooped over blueprints. Behind a massive dark oak table, Diana was finalizing the design for the flagship restaurant of the new “Mercury” chain.
The door swung open without a knock. A woman with impeccably styled platinum-blonde hair entered, surveying the room with a keen eye.
“I thought you were finished,” her mother-in-law remarked while glancing at her Patek Philippe. “We’re dining with Max in an hour—have you forgotten?”
“I need just a little more time,” Diana replied, rubbing her tired eyes. “I’m putting on the finishing touches.”
“Dear, don’t get carried away. It’s just a restaurant, not the Sagrada Família,” Irina Alexandrovna said mockingly. “By the way, tomorrow you need to fly to Sochi. There are problems at the site.”
“But Maksim and I already have tickets to the theater…”
“I’ll take care of Maksim,” her mother-in-law cut coldly. “Business—that’s your life, isn’t it?”
Her expression brooked no argument. Diana silently nodded, mentally tallying how many family plans had been ruined over the past few months by “urgent business trips” and “important meetings.”
The evening sun cast long shadows through the office windows. Once, Diana had relished the view of the Moscow River; now it seemed a mocking reminder of an unattainable freedom.
She picked up the phone and dialed her husband. After a few rings, a familiar voice answered.
“My love, I’m sorry, but I have to leave on a business trip tomorrow…”
A heavy sigh resounded on the other end.
“You have changed, Diana. We haven’t even had a proper conversation in two months.”
“You never had an opinion of your own! When she calls, you run; when she commands, you obey!” Diana’s voice burst into a shout.
“Don’t you dare speak of my mother that way! She gave you everything!” Maksim jumped up from the sofa, his face contorting in anger.
“No, Maks. She took everything from me. Including you.”
Golden rays of the setting August sun filtered through the bedroom blinds. Three years of marriage. Three years of gradually being pushed out of her own life. From the personal office in the architectural studio, Diana had been elevated to deputy chief architect of the entire “RestoArt” holding. A dazzling career that many could only dream of.
With every new promotion, the control grew ever more severe. First, it was minor things: canceled vacations, missed appointments, sudden business trips over weekends. Then came conversations that “it’s not yet time for children” and that “you need to consolidate your position in the company.” Her mother-in-law skillfully manipulated the situation, pitting Diana’s career ambitions against her desire to build a family.
Maksim initially sided with his mother, oblivious to how she was slowly destroying their marriage. Dinners turned into business meetings, romantic evenings into site visits. Even the apartment purchased with Irina Alexandrovna’s money came to resemble a company showroom—furnished with designer pieces to her taste.
“Maksim, I can’t take it anymore,” Diana said, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield herself. “This is not life; it’s an endless race.”
“You’re exaggerating,” her husband replied, turning to look out the window. “Mother just wants what’s best for us.”
“What’s best for whom?” her voice trembled with pain. “I wanted children, Maksim. A family. Something real.”
“It’s too early,” he mechanically repeated his mother’s line. “A career is just beginning to develop…”
“My career or my prison?” Diana bitterly smiled. “Have you noticed that every time I bring up children, your mother assigns me a new task?”
The event of the previous day had finally opened her eyes. At the presentation of the new project, Irina Alexandrovna had publicly appropriated Diana’s idea, passing it off as her own. And Maksim, fully aware of who had worked on the concept, hadn’t even tried to stand up for his wife.
The memories came flooding back, reawakening the feeling of humiliation.
“I spent months developing that concept!” Diana continued. “And you didn’t even blink when she called it ‘our family idea’!”
“What does it matter whose idea it is? We’re one team, one family!”
“No, Maksim. We’re not a team. We are your mother and her two puppets.”
Maksim’s phone rang, interrupting the conversation. Glancing at the screen, his expression changed instantly.
“Mother is asking us to come over, she has news,” he said, immediately forgetting the conversation.
“Of course,” Diana sighed wearily. “As always.”
Irina Alexandrovna’s mansion in Barvikha always evoked mixed feelings in Diana. The architect’s admiration was intermingled with the repulsion toward the woman who made her feel like a captive within these luxurious walls. The impeccable interior, the antique furniture, the modern kitchen where no one ever cooked—it all seemed like a set piece for a play called “The Perfect Family.”
“My dear children!” Irina Alexandrovna greeted them in the living room. “I have amazing news!”
Diana noticed that her mother-in-law looked especially pleased—a sure sign that something was in the works that would tighten the noose around her neck even further.
“Diana, dear, I have been invited to head the architectural department of the East European Restaurateurs Association!” announced her mother-in-law. “And I recommended you for my old position as director of ‘RestoArt’!”
Maksim embraced his mother with joy.
“Do you hear, Diana? It’s incredible!”
But Diana understood the price of this “gift” better than anyone.
“Are there any conditions attached to this appointment?” she asked quietly.
“Opportunities like this are not up for discussion; they must be accepted with gratitude,” replied her mother-in-law sharply. “Total commitment. Business trips, meetings, negotiations…”
“And still no children allowed, right?” Diana looked at Irina Alexandrovna intently.
For a moment, her mother-in-law’s face twisted, but she quickly regained her composure.
“Dear, business and children are incompatible—especially in such a position.”
Maksim looked confused.
“Diana, but isn’t this an enormous chance…”
“Chance for what, Maksim? For an even wider gulf between us?”
“Good heavens, how dramatic,” Irina Alexandrovna scoffed. “Son, explain to your wife that such opportunities come but once in a lifetime.”
“Diana, Mama is right…”
A sudden clarity illuminated Diana’s mind. All these years, they had not been offering her a career—they were slowly cutting her off from her husband, turning her into a workaholic with no time or energy for a personal life.
“I know what’s happening, Irina Alexandrovna,” Diana said, straightening up. “You don’t want to give your son to another woman. You need a puppet, not a daughter-in-law.”
“Don’t talk nonsense!” her mother-in-law paled. “I cared for both of you!”
“Have you forgotten whom you’re speaking to?” Maksim grabbed Diana’s hand. “Apologize to your mother!”
“No. No more apologies. Either me, or her. It’s your choice.”
Maksim’s gaze shifted from his wife to his mother, clearly dumbfounded by the need to choose—a choice he had always postponed.
It was Irina Alexandrovna who broke the silence first, her voice deceptively gentle:
“Diana, you’re tired. Let’s calm down and return to this discussion later. The position offer remains.”
After Maksim left, only the two women were left in the living room. Outside, the fading summer evening cast long shadows on the marble floor.
Irina Alexandrovna approached the bar and poured herself a cognac. For a few seconds, she studied the amber liquid, then turned her gaze toward her daughter-in-law.
“Everything could have been different,” she said, taking a sip. “Sit down, Diana. We need to talk as businesswomen.”
Diana cautiously sank into an armchair, mechanically touching her wedding band.
“I propose we don’t prolong this farce,” the mistress of the house put her glass on the table. “A divorce. Quick and painless.”
“What?” Diana gasped.
“As compensation, you will receive either the position of director or a branch of your choice. A worthy alternative to a marriage that is doomed,” Irina Alexandrovna continued coldly.
Diana stood up, trying to still the trembling.
“You planned to get rid of me from the very start?”
Her mother-in-law smirked as the firelight danced on her hair.
“Planned? No. But I was considering the possibility. Now there is a chance to merge our assets with the Verkhovskys’ empire. They have a daughter—educated, from a good family…”
Diana leaned against the wall, feeling dizzy.
“Verkhovskys? The owners of the ‘Mont Blanc’ chain?” her voice wavered as she grasped the scale of betrayal.
“Smart girl,” her mother-in-law nodded. “The merger would double the capitalization. Maksim understands the importance of such a move.”
“Does he know about your plans?” Diana barely managed to ask.
“Men don’t need the details,” Irina Alexandrovna waved dismissively. “They care only about the result.”
Suddenly, the ceilings in the living room felt oppressively low to Diana. Three years of trying to be part of the family, three years of concessions and sacrifices—all had been in vain.
“What if I refuse to divorce?” A dangerous glint shone in her eyes.
Irina Alexandrovna poured herself another cognac, calmly studying her glass in the light.
“In that case, instead of an amicable settlement, you’ll face a lawsuit. My lawyers will prove that your workaholism is tantamount to neglecting your marital duties. My attorneys are the best in the country. They will leave you penniless, with no reputation or job,” each word fell like a heavy stone. “The choice is yours: leave with dignity and keep your business, or lose everything.”
To her surprise, Diana let out a bitter laugh.
“You know what’s the funniest part? I truly loved Maksim. Not your money, not your status—him.”
“Love is a luxury we cannot afford,” her mother-in-law sneered. “I hope you make the right decision. Tomorrow, my assistant will bring the documents. A branch in Krasnodar or a position—choose.”
Maksim stood at the apartment window, his figure seeming unfamiliar. Diana looked at the man with whom she had dreamed of sharing a life, and she no longer recognized him.
“Your mother offered me a divorce,” she said bluntly as she closed the door behind her.
Her husband flinched but did not turn around.
“She thinks it’s for everyone’s benefit.”
“Better for whom? For business? For the Verkhovskys?” Diana’s voice trembled with tension.
Maksim abruptly turned around.
“Did she tell you everything?”
“Yes, your mother was more honest than you. At least someone in your family speaks the truth.”
The elegant furniture, the design, the decor—all that her mother-in-law had imposed now seemed like a façade of a false life.
“Diana, understand, our marriage was always a challenge because of your mother,” Maksim ran his hand through his hair. “I was never ready to choose between the two of you.”
“And you chose her,” her voice was laced with bitterness.
“I chose the future,” he replied wearily. “So what did she offer you: a branch or a position?”
“A settlement for the years lost,” Diana said as she kicked off the stiletto shoes given by her mother-in-law. “Tell me, have you ever thought of our children? What could they have been like?”
Her husband averted his gaze, and that said more than words.
“She’s offering a branch in Krasnodar,” Diana said quietly.
“Take it,” Maksim nodded. “It’s a good asset.”
There were no apologies. No regrets.
In the austere conference room of the legal firm “Pravovoy Garant,” Diana mechanically signed the documents, following the instructions of Irina Alexandrovna’s lawyer. She had chosen the branch so as to completely free herself from her mother-in-law’s influence.
“You are doing the right thing,” Irina Alexandrovna smiled as the last paper was signed. “I am sure you will manage the branch successfully.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Diana replied.
Three weeks later, news shook the market: the Krasnodar branch of “RestoArt” had been sold to its main competitor—the “GastroPlaza” holding. The deal was estimated in the hundreds of millions and came as a shock to everyone.
Diana’s phone rang incessantly. Irina Alexandrovna called for the tenth time that morning. When Diana answered, she heard a furious voice:
“You had no right! This is a despicable blow!”
“I was trained by the best,” Diana replied calmly. “The branch was my own property as per the contract. What I do with it is none of your business.”
“Max was right! You are just a vindictive woman!” her mother-in-law yelled.
“No, I am a businesswoman. Business is strategy, remember?” Diana smiled as she looked at the project for her new architectural firm. “Tell Maksim that I wish him happiness in his new dynastic marriage.”
A bright May day illuminated the spacious room with high ceilings. The sign “DiArch Studio” shone on the facade of a restored mansion in central St. Petersburg. A year had passed since the divorce.
Diana, dressed in an elegant gray suit, accepted congratulations on the opening of her architectural studio. The money from the sale of the branch had allowed her to start her own firm and assemble a team of like-minded people.
A message from her ex-husband appeared on the phone: “Heard about your opening. Congratulations. M.”
She did not reply. Instead, she raised a champagne glass before her team and said:
“Here’s to the freedom to be ourselves! To the ability to build not only buildings but our own lives!