Olga was leafing through a cooking magazine with rapt attention, making notes in the margins. A new recipe for French julienne struck her as especially interesting.
“I should try adding porcini instead of button mushrooms,” she thought, imagining how she would surprise her husband with the unusual flavor.
Cooking had always been her passion.
The mistress of the house could spend hours experimenting in the kitchen, creating new combinations of flavors. Lately she had been dreaming more and more often about her own cookbook, where she would collect all her signature recipes.
Caught up in the search for new ideas, the wife didn’t notice the front door open. Only when she heard heavy footsteps in the hallway did Olga realize her husband had come home.
“Olezhek, you’re back already? I just found such an interesting recipe!” she exclaimed joyfully, stepping into the entryway. “Can you imagine—combining French and Russian cuisine! It would turn into something extraordinary!”
The man walked past her in silence, not even glancing in her direction. He smelled of expensive cologne—and women’s perfume.
Olga felt an unpleasant chill run down her spine.
“Dinner is ready. I made your favo—”
“Enough!” Oleg cut her off sharply. “I’m sick of your culinary experiments! That’s all you can talk about! I’m not interested. I’m tired!”
He went into the living room, pulled some papers from his briefcase, and threw them hard onto the coffee table. Several sheets scattered across the floor.
“What’s this?” the woman asked in a trembling voice, picking up the documents.
“Divorce papers. Sign them. And let’s not have any hysterics.”
Olga felt the room begin to spin before her eyes. She grabbed the back of a chair, trying to keep her balance.
“What are you saying? What divorce? Everything’s fine with us! We only just celebrated your promotion. You told all the relatives yourself what a wonderful wife I am.”
“Was wonderful!” Oleg shouted, unbuttoning his expensive jacket. “For a mid-level manager… maybe. But now I’m deputy CEO! I have a different circle, different prospects. I have a new standard of living—standards you don’t fit. I’m already ashamed to admit you’re my wife. An embarrassment in front of people! Think about it: who are you? A housewife obsessed with your recipes! A gray little mouse! You’re not on my level!”
“But I thought…” Tears ran down Olga’s cheeks. “I wanted to write a book. To start my own cooking channel.”
“My God, how small and pathetic that sounds! Do you hear what I’m saying? I need a woman of a different caliber. Educated, well-groomed, fluent in three languages. Not a cook with dreams of a recipe book.”
“So there is someone else?” she asked, her fingers whitening as she clenched the papers.
“There is. And she’s a hundred times better than you. Beside her I feel proud and respect myself. With you it’s the opposite. Sorry, but our marriage is no longer relevant!”
“Two years! For two years I was by your side! When you started out as a junior manager! When you didn’t even have money for a decent suit! I cooked, did the laundry, ironed.”
“Exactly!” her husband interrupted. “You stayed a laundress and a cook. And I moved up! Enough idle talk. Sign the papers and let’s end this circus. The apartment is yours, so I’ll move out. I’m not claiming anything. Tomorrow I’ll send people for my things.”
Oleg headed for the door, dialing a number as he went.
“Yeah, sunshine, I’m on my way. Wait for me at our restaurant.”
The door slammed with a crash. In the sudden silence you could hear the ticking clock and, somewhere in the kitchen, water dripping from the faucet.
Olga slowly sank into a chair, clutching the divorce papers in her hands. The pie she’d forgotten in the oven began to burn, but she didn’t stir.
The entire world she had carefully built over two years had collapsed in the space of ten minutes.
“How could this be?” her mind pounded. “When did it all go wrong? And why didn’t I see it?”
But the only answer was silence—and the bitter scent of another woman’s perfume, seared forever into her memory.
The next morning began with the doorbell. The woman, who hadn’t slept all night, trudged to open the door to unexpected guests. Two sturdy men in movers’ uniforms stood on the threshold.
“Hello! Mr. Oleg sent us. We’re here for his belongings,” one of them said politely.
The mistress of the house nodded silently and led them to the bedroom. In the large wardrobe hung her husband’s suits—expensive, brand-name. She ran her hand over the fabric of a jacket she herself had chosen for their wedding anniversary. A bitter lump rose in her throat.
“His things are here,” she said quietly. “Just be careful with the blue suit. It’s his favorite.”
“Was his favorite,” she corrected herself inwardly.
While the movers packed, Olga dialed her friend’s number.
“Alla? Hi! Are you at work?”
“Yes, what happened?” the friend asked anxiously. “Your voice sounds strange.”
“Oleg… he brought divorce papers yesterday,” the woman’s voice faltered.
A heavy pause hung on the other end of the line.
“My God… Olya, I’m so sorry! Though, to be honest, I was afraid of this. Your husband changed completely after his promotion.”
“In what way?”
“Sit down. This will take a while,” Alla sighed. “From the moment he was appointed deputy director, he went off the rails. Started snapping at subordinates, belittling everyone—especially women. And then she appeared… Marina Vitalyevna.”
“Who?”
“The new head of HR. Young, ambitious, from a very wealthy family. She wrapped Oleg around her finger fast! They started having lunch together, staying late in his office.”
Olga felt her hands begin to tremble involuntarily.
“And everyone knew about it?”
“Forgive me, dear! I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t dare. I thought maybe it was a temporary lapse. But they’ve gotten completely brazen! Flirting openly in meetings, going off to lunch together. And last week she was bragging about a diamond ring—a gift from ‘a very special man.’”
At that moment one of the movers dropped a box of things. The thud made Olga flinch.
“I’ll call you back,” she said quickly and hung up.
The next hour flew by in a blur.
The movers carried out all of her husband’s belongings, leaving a gaping emptiness in the closet. Mechanically, she tidied up scattered ties and closed the now-empty drawers.
In the pocket of an old jacket she found a photo of the two of them together: still happy, smiling. Unable to bear it, she tore the picture into tiny pieces.
The phone rang again. It was Alla.
“Olenka, how are you? I keep thinking about you. I can’t calm down!”
“You know what I just realized? I’m even grateful to this Marina. She showed me my husband’s true face. Or rather, my almost ex-husband’s.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. But I definitely won’t sit and cry. Enough!” There was steel in Olga’s voice now. “For two years I lived his life. Maybe it’s time to start living mine?”
“Right, my friend!” Alla brightened. “Only—don’t rush to sign the papers. Let him sweat.”
“No! I’ll sign. I don’t want to humiliate myself and cling to someone who betrayed me. But that doesn’t mean I’ll forget or forgive. He’ll pay for every one of my tears.”
After saying goodbye to her friend, the woman went to the window.
A car carrying her husband’s things drove slowly down the street. Olga watched it go and felt that her former life was leaving with it. The future was unknown, but for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t afraid.
She quickly took out her phone and dialed a number.
“Good afternoon! I’m calling about organizing a corporate event. Yes, I’d like to book a large hall for next Friday. For two hundred people. And also… I need to discuss special conditions for the evening.”
…The Grand Hotel was ablaze with lights. A line of expensive cars stretched before the entrance: the company’s top management had gathered for the annual corporate party.
Oleg helped Marina out of the car, admiring her long legs and figure-hugging red dress. His life had changed dramatically over the past month.
The divorce had gone quickly: to his surprise, Olga had signed all the documents easily. Now he was free and happy with a woman of his own circle.
“Darling, just look how everyone admires us,” Marina purred, straightening his tie. “We’re the perfect couple! I’m jealous of myself!”
In the luxurious banquet hall the atmosphere was festive. Waiters carried champagne; live music played.
Oleg and his companion took the central table—his seat as deputy CEO.
“Imagine,” his beloved whispered, “they say the owner of the company is coming tonight for the first time! A mysterious woman! No one’s seen her, but rumor has it she’s very influential.”
The man just smirked.
“Probably some old shrew who inherited the business. We’ve seen the type.”
At that moment the CEO stepped onto the stage.
“Dear colleagues! Tonight is special. For the first time in the company’s history, its owner is present at our gathering. Please welcome—Olga Sergeyevna!”
Oleg choked on his champagne. His ex-wife was walking lightly onto the stage.
But how she had changed! An elegant black dress emphasized her perfect figure; her posture was confident; her hairstyle, stylish. There was no trace of the former housewife.
“Good evening, esteemed colleagues!” Olga’s voice was calm and authoritative. “I’m glad to finally meet you in person. All these years I preferred to watch the company’s development from the sidelines. But the time for change has come!” She paused, sweeping the hushed hall with her gaze. “Starting tomorrow, I will personally step into managing the company. I have big plans for the future. I’m sure that together we can take this business to an entirely new level. Serious changes and rapid growth lie ahead. For tonight, I wish everyone a wonderful evening!”
Olga’s speech was met with thunderous applause. Employees gathered around her, vying to offer champagne. She carried herself with regal poise, managing to give attention to everyone.
Her former husband lunged toward the stage, shoving people aside.
“Olya! Wait! We need to talk! I want to understand!”
But she seemed to dissolve into the crowd. Marina remained at the table, nervously twisting a napkin.
“How could you not know?” she hissed. “Why didn’t you ever tell me your wife owned the company?”
“I didn’t know myself! Do you think if I’d known I would have left her? Don’t be stupid! She would never—”
“Don’t come near me again,” Marina snapped, grabbing her purse. “You’re a complete loser! Why would I need you now?”
She turned on her heel and strode for the exit.
Oleg was left alone at the empty table. His ex-wife had long since vanished, leaving behind a trail of admiring whispers and a whirl of emotions. Only one thought kept turning in his head: “What have I done?..”
At exactly nine in the morning, Oleg was summoned to the CEO’s office. The moment he entered the spacious room, he sensed trouble. The boss didn’t even look up.
“Take a seat, Mr. Oleg,” the CEO said dryly, scanning some papers. “This will be brief. The company no longer requires your services. You don’t meet the new requirements.”
“But how… why?” The man paled in an instant. “I was just recently promoted!”
“Here is the termination order. Please sign. Security will escort you out.”
An hour later Oleg was already standing at the door of his former apartment. Former home. In the fifteen-minute walk he had rehearsed his speech a dozen times, but every word sounded empty and false.
Olga didn’t open right away.
When the door finally swung wide, the man was struck speechless for a moment. She had changed so much! The housecoat had been replaced by an elegant pantsuit; the messy bun by a stylish coiffure.
“Why did you come?” his ex-wife asked coldly.
“Olya… Olenka…” Oleg stepped inside. “Forgive me! I was a complete fool. I see it now. Let’s start over!”
“Stop! Do you know what I hate most? Pitiful men who humiliate themselves and humiliate others—especially women.”
“Tell me!” He grabbed her hand. “Where did you get this company? Why were you silent all these years?”
Olga pulled her hand free and gave a bitter smile.
“You never asked. You were only interested in me as a housewife. Apparently that’s how it was. But since you’re asking, I’ll answer. I have nothing to hide. My grandfather founded this company. Then my father ran it. When he fell ill three years ago, I began gradually stepping into managing the business. But I did it quietly, without making a show of it. I wanted to be seen as a professional, not a lady who got everything by inheritance.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What for? So you’d start fawning over me? Or brag to your friends about your rich wife? I wanted you to love me—not my money and status. But you failed the test, Oleg. The first title that came your way went straight to your head.”
“I love you!” the man blurted out. “I always have! It was a lapse. It can happen to anyone!”
“No. That was—and is—your true face. Your insatiable thirst for power and money.”
At that moment a tall man in an expensive suit strolled unhurriedly out of the living room. His movements were calm, his smile friendly, yet there was a hidden strength in both.
“Is everything all right?” he asked quietly, watching Oleg closely. “I heard shouting, so I thought I’d check. Just in case.”
“Everything’s fine, Alexander,” Olga replied softly. “My ex-husband was just leaving. Isn’t that right, Oleg?”
“I strongly advise you to leave the apartment,” the newcomer said evenly. “I don’t like using force. But if I have to…”
Oleg backed toward the door. His face had turned white with humiliation and anger. A few seconds later the door slammed behind him.
The woman exhaled in relief.
“Thank you, Sasha! I’m very grateful you agreed to help.”
“Who said I’m merely helping?” He looked into her eyes intently. “I intend to compete seriously for your heart, Olga Sergeyevna.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but a satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
“Is that so?” She tilted her head. “And how do you intend to do that?”
“To start, I’m inviting you to lunch. I promise—no banalities. Only sincerity and respect.”
Olga glanced at her watch.
“I have an important meeting in an hour. We need to discuss the company’s reorganization.”
“Then we’ll have dinner this evening. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
There was no fawning or posturing in his voice, only the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
The woman smiled. It seemed life really was taking a sharp turn—and this time, in the right direction.