Margarita was slowly turning the pages of an old photo album when a sharp ring at the door cut through the quiet. She set the album down on the coffee table and went to answer, puzzled about who could be calling at such an hour.
On the threshold stood a young woman in a bright red dress, with bold makeup and a haughty smile.
“Are you Margarita?” the stranger asked, giving her an appraising once-over.
“Yes. And who are you?”
“I’m Kristina. May I come in? We need to talk.”
Reluctantly, Margarita stepped aside and let her into the entryway. Kristina walked straight into the living room without waiting to be invited and dropped onto the sofa, crossing one leg over the other.
“I came to tell you something important,” she began without any preamble. “You need to move out of this apartment.”
Margarita froze.
“Excuse me—what?”
“Move out of your apartment!” the mistress declared. “Your husband and I are a family. We’ll be living here.”
Silence filled the room. Margarita slowly lowered herself into the armchair opposite.
“You’re talking about Viktor? My husband Viktor?”
“Him. We’ve been seeing each other for six months. He’s wanted to tell you for a long time, but he couldn’t bring himself to. So I came myself. Viktor is moving in with me in the next few days, and then we’ll come back here. It’s a three-room place—spacious. Perfect for our future family.”
Margarita sat perfectly still, processing what she’d heard. There were no tears, no hysteria in her eyes—only a cold calm.
“And Viktor knows you came here today?”
“Of course not. He’d never have let me. He keeps saying he needs time, that he can’t do it all at once. But why drag it out? The sooner you clear out, the better for everyone.”
“I see,” Margarita said quietly. “And where is Viktor now?”
“On a business trip. He’ll be back in three days. By then you should have your things packed.”
Kristina stood, smoothed her dress, and headed for the door.
“I’ll leave you my number. Call when you’re ready to hand over the keys.”
The door slammed. Margarita remained in her chair, staring at the business card the mistress had tossed onto the table.
The next morning, Margarita woke with a clear purpose. She showered, dressed carefully, and sat down at her computer. The first thing she did was open their shared family bank account—the one she and Viktor had been adding to for the past fifteen years. The amount was impressive.
Then she pulled out a folder of documents. The apartment they lived in had originally been bought by her parents and given to her as a wedding present. Back then Viktor had insisted they register the property in both their names—“we’re a family,” he’d said. And Margarita had agreed without a second thought.
She dialed her friend Elena, who worked as a lawyer.
“Lena, I need your help. Urgently.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll explain later. Can you come over?”
An hour later Elena was sitting at the kitchen table, studying the papers closely.
“Okay. The apartment is in both your names, but there’s a prenup. Remember signing it?”
“Vaguely. Viktor said it was just a formality.”
“A formality that’s about to help you. Look—here it clearly says: if one spouse cheats, the cheating spouse loses rights to the jointly acquired property.”
“But how do I prove he cheated?”
“You don’t have to prove anything in this case. I’ve got a better idea.”
Elena took out her phone and started searching for something.
“Here—found it. A colleague of mine handles family cases. She’ll help you file everything correctly. But first we need to learn a bit more about this Kristina.”
Over the next two days Margarita stayed busy. She transferred the money from the joint account into her personal one, arranged a power of attorney for Elena, and gathered the documents they’d need.
At the same time, some interesting details about Kristina came to light. The girl had already been married twice, and both marriages had ended in loud scandals. What’s more, she had debts to several banks.
“Excellent,” Elena said after reviewing what they’d found. “Now we just need to play the hand correctly.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Let Viktor make the decision himself. We’ll just create the right conditions.”
Viktor came back from his trip on the evening of the third day. Margarita met him as usual—set the table for dinner, asked about his trip. He looked tense, glancing at his phone constantly.
“Everything okay?” Margarita asked, pouring tea.
“Yeah. Just tired.”
At that moment the doorbell rang. Viktor jerked upright, but Margarita got there first.
“I’ll answer.”
Kristina stood on the doorstep—this time in a строгий suit, with a folder of documents in her hands.
“Is Viktor home?” she asked, ignoring Margarita.
“Come in,” Margarita replied calmly.
Viktor froze in the kitchen doorway when he saw his mistress.
“Kristina? What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean, what? We had an agreement! You promised you’d take care of it!”
Margarita sat at the table and picked up her teacup.
“Maybe you can explain what’s going on?”
Viktor went pale; Kristina squared her shoulders like she was going into battle.
“Your husband promised to marry me. We’re expecting a baby!”
That was news even to Viktor. He stared at her, eyes wide.
“What? Kristina, you said…”
“I said I want a family. And now your wish has come true. So let’s settle this faster. Margarita, I already explained—you’ll have to move out.”
Margarita set her cup down slowly.
“I understand. Viktor—is that true?”
Viktor stayed silent, not knowing what to say. Kristina pulled papers from the folder.
“Here. I even prepared a lease for you. A one-room place not far from here. Perfectly decent for a single woman.”
“How thoughtful,” Margarita said with a smirk. “Viktor, are you going to say anything?”
“I… Rita, I’m sorry. It just… happened.”
“‘Happened’ is six months of dating? Or ‘happened’ is a baby?”
Viktor lowered his head. Kristina looked triumphant.
“Good. Then it’s settled. When are you moving out?”
“You know what,” Margarita said, standing. “I thought about it and decided: the apartment is yours. Take it.”
Kristina beamed; Viktor looked up in shock.
“Rita?”
“But there’s one condition,” Margarita added. “Actually, a few. Sit down—let’s make it official.”
Margarita laid the prepared documents on the table.
“First: Viktor, do you remember our prenup?”
“What prenup?” Kristina snapped.
“A normal one,” Margarita said. “It states that if one spouse cheats, they lose rights to joint property. But I’m willing not to enforce that clause—on one condition.”
She slid a document across the table.
“This is an agreement to divide property. The apartment stays with you, Viktor. In exchange, you waive any claim to my share of the business.”
“What business?” Viktor blurted.
“The one I opened three years ago. Remember I mentioned ‘handicraft classes’? Well, it hasn’t been classes for a long time. It’s a network of workshops across the city. Income—about two million a month.”
Viktor’s mouth fell open. All this time he’d assumed his wife was just wasting time with her friends.
“That can’t be!”
“It can. Here are the papers. And Kristina—did you know Viktor is an ordinary mid-level manager? Salary: eighty thousand. This apartment was bought by my parents. The car too—also their gift. The savings in the account are my business deposits. But I’m willing to leave you the apartment. Generous, isn’t it?”
Kristina stared from Margarita to Viktor.
“That’s a lie! Viktor said he owns the company!”
“Owns it?” Margarita laughed. “Oh, that’s interesting. Viktor, tell Kristina about your ‘company.’”
Viktor said nothing, fists clenched.
“Fine, I’ll tell her,” Margarita continued. “Viktor works at Stroyresurs. Sales manager. The department head—Pyotr Semyonovich—is actually a good acquaintance of mine. He was very surprised to learn Viktor introduces himself as the company’s owner.”
“You called my work?!” Viktor exploded.
“And why shouldn’t I?” Margarita replied calmly. “I need to know whether the person I’m leaving an apartment worth twenty million to can actually afford it.”
Kristina jerked upright.
“Twenty million?”
“Yes. That’s the current market value. But there’s a catch: the apartment is pledged as collateral.”
“What?!” Viktor and Kristina exclaimed in unison.
“I took out a loan secured against the apartment to expand the business. There are fifteen million left to pay. Monthly payment—three hundred thousand. But don’t worry: if you sign the property division, the debt gets divided too. Your share is only one hundred fifty thousand a month.”
Kristina grabbed her purse.
“This is insane! Viktor, you said you had an apartment, a business, savings!”
“He did have all of that,” Margarita said evenly. “Or rather—he had access to it while he was married to me. But if you’re building a new family, you’ll have to start from scratch.”
“No!” Kristina screamed. “I didn’t sign up for this! The baby…”
She cut herself off.
“Speaking of the baby,” Margarita went on. “I got curious and asked around. Kristina, you went to a gynecologist last week, didn’t you? My friend works at the same clinic. There’s no pregnancy.”
“That’s medical confidentiality!”
“I don’t know anything,” Margarita said lightly. “I’m just assuming. But Viktor can request a certificate—since you announced you’re pregnant.”
Kristina flushed, then went pale.
“You know what—go to hell, both of you! Viktor, you’re a pathetic liar! And you—” she turned to Margarita, “—you’re a crafty snake!”
She stormed out, slamming the door.
Viktor sat at the table, head in his hands. Margarita calmly put the documents back into the folder.
“Rita, let’s talk…”
“About what? About how you lied to me for six months? Or how you pretended to be a successful businessman for your mistress?”
“I can explain…”
“No need. I understand perfectly. A midlife crisis. A desire to feel important, successful. You just chose the wrong way to do it.”
She went to the wardrobe and pulled out a suitcase she had packed in advance.
“These are your things. You can stay with your friend Dima for now. He already knows—I called him.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“I’m giving you time to think. The apartment really is ‘in pledge’—but not to a bank. I registered it as collateral for business investments through our family company. Meaning, technically, we owe ourselves. But if we divorce, we’ll have to redo the paperwork. And yes—you’ll get your half, after the debt is repaid.”
“That’s absurd!”
“That’s business, Viktor. The very thing you dismissed as a silly hobby. By the way—do you know what a franchise of my workshops costs? Five million. And there’s a waiting list.”
Viktor поднял his head; greed flickered in his eyes.
“Rita… maybe we shouldn’t rush. We’ve been together so many years…”
“Stop,” Margarita cut him off. “Don’t even start. You made your choice when you started seeing Kristina. When you lied to her about me, and to me about ‘business trips.’ When you let her come here and demand that I move out of my own home.”
“I didn’t know she’d come!”
“But you told her about the apartment.”
Viktor lowered his head again.
“Here’s what I’ll tell you,” Margarita said, sitting opposite him. “You have two options. One: we divorce and divide everything under the prenup. You get what you brought into the marriage—which, let me remind you, is only your salary over fifteen years, part of which is already spent. Two: we divorce civilly, I don’t invoke the infidelity clause, and you get a quarter of the apartment’s value after the investment loan is paid off. That’s about two million in three years.”
“Three years?!”
“That’s how long is left until it’s paid off. Decide.”
Viktor stood, anger twisting his face.
“You set me up!”
“I did? I was the one dating another woman for six months? I was the one lying about status and income? I was the one who brought a mistress to throw the legal wife out of the house?”
“But you knew! You knew and stayed silent!”
“I found out three days ago,” Margarita said evenly. “From your Kristina. And in those three days I managed to protect what I built for years: my business, my reputation, my dignity.”
Viktor grabbed the suitcase.
“You’ll regret this!”
“Maybe,” Margarita said. “But not today.”
He went to the door, then turned back.
“And what if I tell everyone what you’re really like?”
“Like what?” Margarita smiled. “Successful? Smart? Please, do. While you’re at it, tell them how you spent fifteen years living off your wife while acting like the king of the world.”
The door slammed. Margarita went to the window and watched Viktor load the suitcase into the car—the very car her parents had gifted.
Her phone rang. Elena’s name flashed on the screen.
“So—did it work?” Elena asked.
“Like clockwork. Thank you so much.”
“No problem. You did great not humiliating yourself or fighting. A clean win.”
“You know… I wasn’t even lying. The business really does bring in good money. I just never advertised it.”
“And you did the right thing,” Elena said. “By the way, my brother asked if I can give him your number. He’s an entrepreneur too. I think you two will have things to talk about.”
“Elena, no matchmaking.”
“What matchmaking? Just a business introduction. But Andrey really is a good guy—and the main thing is, he built everything himself.”
Margarita smirked.
“Alright. Give it to him. But I’m promising business only.”
“Of course, of course,” her friend laughed.
After she hung up, Margarita looked around the apartment one more time. For fifteen years she had built warmth and comfort here, putting her soul into every detail. And she had no intention of moving out.
The prenup lay on the table. She picked it up and reread the terms. Viktor had signed it without looking, trusting her. Back then it really had been a formality—two young people not thinking about betrayal. But life had taught Margarita to be cautious.
Her phone rang again. An unfamiliar number.
“Hello?”
“Margarita? This is Andrey—Elena’s brother. She gave me your number.”
“Good evening.”
“Sorry to call so late. Elena said you have a network of workshops? I’m actually looking to rent space for a new project. Could we meet and discuss?”
“Tomorrow, then? Would eleven work for you?”
“Perfect. Thank you. See you.”
Margarita smiled. Life went on. And something told her the most interesting part was only beginning.
A month later Viktor sat in a rented one-room apartment, scrolling through job listings. Stroyresurs had cut staff, and he—the “business owner”—was among the first to be let go. Kristina disappeared right after the scandal, blocking him everywhere.
On the table lay a letter from Margarita’s lawyer with a proposed divorce settlement. The terms were the same: a quarter of the apartment’s value in three years—or nothing, if the infidelity clause was enforced.
He picked up a pen and signed. There was no choice anyway.
Meanwhile, Margarita sat in a restaurant across from Andrey, discussing the details of their joint project