Anna climbed the stairs with a folder of papers pressed to her chest. The appointment with the notary had ended earlier than expected, and she chose not to warn Nikolai that she was coming home early. All she wanted was to step into the apartment, brew some herbal tea, and sit in silence with everything the past few days had dumped on her.
Grandpa Semyon had left her far more than the apartment in Saint Petersburg’s historic center she’d originally expected. The quiet old man—who had spent his whole working life as an engineer at a shipbuilding plant—also owned a country house, an antique collection of paintings by Russian artists, and a very solid amount of money spread across bank accounts. Anna still couldn’t grasp the true size of what she’d inherited.
When she reached the front door, she heard voices. Many voices. A crowd had clearly gathered in the living room. Anna frowned—Nikolai hadn’t said anything about guests. She turned the key as quietly as she could and listened.
“Can you even imagine how much money?” her husband exclaimed. “That old man turned out to be a real miser! He saved his whole life, lived poorer than a church mouse, and the accounts—millions!”
Anna stopped in the entryway. Her heartbeat quickened. What was he talking about?
“Kolya, you’re a lucky devil!” That was Igor, Nikolai’s brother. “Now you’ll finally live!”
“And that downtown apartment alone is worth a fortune!” Marina, Igor’s wife, jumped in. “Four rooms, high ceilings, a view of the Neva! You sell it—you’ll have enough for two apartments in a new complex.”
“Why sell?” Valentina Petrovna, her mother-in-law, cut in. “You’ll rent it out. That’s stable income! And with that money you can buy a proper dacha with land. Your father and I have dreamed for years about a real place, not the crumbling shack we have now.”
Anna carefully slipped off her shoes and padded closer, barefoot. The living-room door was slightly ajar, and she could see them all. At the table sat Nikolai, his brother and Marina, Valentina Petrovna and Viktor Pavlovich—her father-in-law—and even Nikolai’s aunt, Lyudmila.
“And what do you need those old paintings for?” Igor continued, rubbing his palms together. “Sell them and you can start a business. I’ve been dreaming about opening an auto shop. With that kind of start-up money…”
“STOP,” Nikolai raised his hand. “Not all at once. First we have to get everything properly оформлено. Anka’s naive—she doesn’t even understand what it’s worth. She says she feels sorry for her grandpa, wants to keep his memory. What nonsense. Dead people don’t need money.”
“That’s the right way to think, son,” Viktor Pavlovich nodded approvingly. “The key is convincing her that you’re family and everything should be shared. And then we can… redistribute it.”
“I think we absolutely should sell the apartment,” Valentina Petrovna declared. “With that money we can buy each child an apartment. Igor and Marina have needed more space for ages—they’ve got two kids growing up. And your father and I wouldn’t mind finally doing renovations.”
“Mom, you’re brilliant!” Nikolai blurted out. “Exactly! We’ll tell Anka it’s for the family, for future children. She’s always wanted a baby—there’s our argument. We need a bigger place in a good neighborhood, near a school.”
“And what about me?” Lyudmila suddenly asked. “I’m a relative too, you know!”
“Aunt Lyud, don’t worry,” Igor soothed her. “There’ll be plenty for everyone. The sums are so big we can pay off your mortgage and still have money left for a vacation. The main thing is to play it smart.”
Marina giggled.
“I can already see Anka’s face when she finds out we’re sitting here dividing up her inheritance!”
“She won’t find out,” Nikolai waved it away. “We’ll move step by step. First I’ll talk her into selling the paintings—I’ll say they require special care, expensive care. Then the apartment—tell her it’s too far from us, inconvenient to watch over. And the money… the money will be easiest of all to funnel into ‘family needs.’”
“You’re clever, Kolya,” Valentina Petrovna praised him. “You take after your father. He always knew how to handle women. The main thing is not giving them too much freedom.”
“And if she refuses?” Marina doubted. “It’s still her grandfather, her inheritance by law.”
“What do you know about laws?” Viktor Pavlovich scoffed. “In marriage everything is shared. Kolya is her husband—he has the same rights. And we’re family. We’re supposed to support each other.”
“Speaking of support,” Lyudmila inserted, “I could use about three hundred thousand right now. Debts are choking me—collectors keep calling.”
“Aunt Lyud, hold on a little longer,” Nikolai reassured her. “As soon as we get access to the accounts, we’ll help right away. I promise.”
“And the country house?” Igor asked. “You said the plot is big, the house is brick…”
“Fifteen hundred square meters,” Nikolai confirmed. “The house needs repairs, but the location is incredible—forest, a lake nearby. We can build a guest house, a sauna. We’ll all отдыхать there together.”
“ALL TOGETHER!” Valentina Petrovna echoed. “That’s the right way! A family should be together. And your Anna is kind of distant—always working, always taking some courses. That’s not right.”
“She’s strange in general,” Marina agreed. “Always reading, going to the theater. A normal wife should think about the family, about her husband, not run around museums.”
“We’ll fix that,” Nikolai smirked. “Once there’s a baby, she won’t have time for stupid hobbies. For now… we just have to do everything correctly. I’ve already checked—if she signs a power of attorney so I can manage the property, everything after that will be easier.”
“Son, maybe have her transfer it straight to you?” Viktor Pavlovich suggested. “That’s safer. Who knows what idea might pop into her head.”
“Dad, not all at once. Anka may be naive, but she isn’t an idiot. If we move too fast, she’ll get suspicious. We’ll act gently—but persistently.”
“Why are you babying her?” Lyudmila snapped. “Tell her directly: you’re rich now, you have to help the family. What’s so complicated?”
“Aunt Lyud, you don’t know Anka,” Nikolai said. “She’s stubborn—once she decides something, you can’t talk her out of it. Remember how she refused to take a loan for my car? Said it was a financial pit. I had to get it myself—still paying it off.”
“She’s stingy,” Valentina Petrovna pronounced. “I always said she wasn’t a match for you, Kolya. Simple family, parents are ordinary engineers. Now money has dropped into her lap—she’ll get arrogant.”
“She won’t get arrogant, Mom. She’s just… careful. But I know how to approach her. Seven years married—I’ve learned.”
Igor poured cognac from the bottle on the table.
“To luck! To everything working out!”
“Too early to celebrate,” Lyudmila grumbled. “First you have to get the money.”
“We will,” Nikolai said confidently. “I have a plan. First I’ll convince her to go see the country house. I’ll show her how much work is needed, how much the renovation will cost. She’ll panic over the expenses and agree to sell. After that—it’s just technique.”
“And the paintings?” Marina asked. “You said there are famous artists.”
“There are a couple by Shishkin and Aivazovsky. But Anka doesn’t know anything about art. I’ll tell her they’re copies, worthless. We’ll sell them quietly and she won’t even notice.”
“Kolya, you’re a real strategist!” Igor admired. “You’ve thought of everything!”
“Of course,” Nikolai grinned. “I work in sales for a reason. I know how to persuade people.”
Anna stood in the entryway as anger surged through her. Her hands trembled, her temples pounded. Seven years… Seven years she had lived with a man who could sit there, behind her back, dividing up HER inheritance—HER grandfather’s legacy.
She drew a deep breath and flung the living-room door open.
“Good evening,” she said in an icy voice.
Everyone went still. Nikolai turned pale, dropping his shot glass. Igor choked on his breath. Valentina Petrovna opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“Anya…” Nikolai began. “You’re early—”
“SHUT UP!” Anna roared, and they all flinched. “Just shut up and listen!”
She swept her gaze over them one by one.
“So you’re dividing my inheritance? MY inheritance from MY grandfather? The man who raised me while my parents worked themselves to the bone? The man who taught me to read, took me to museums, and told me stories about paintings?”
“Anna, you didn’t understand—” Valentina Petrovna tried to intervene.
“I understood perfectly!” Anna slammed her fist on the table. “Sell the apartment, sell the paintings, sell the house! And who the hell are you to decide what happens to MY property?”
“We’re family…” Marina squeaked.
“Family?” Anna laughed, but there wasn’t a hint of joy in it. “A family that, in seven years, never once asked about my grandfather? That didn’t even show up at his funeral? What kind of family is that?”
“Don’t you dare speak to my parents like that!” Nikolai tried to protest.
“And you—keep your mouth shut!” Anna snapped, turning on him. “Mr. Strategist! Making plans! Wanting me to sign a power of attorney! I’ll ‘sign’ you something you’ll remember for the rest of your life!”
She snatched up her phone and started dialing.
“What are you doing?” Nikolai asked, alarmed.
“Hello, Ekaterina Sergeyevna?” Anna spoke into the phone. “This is Anna Vorontsova. Yes, I need a consultation about divorce. And about the property split. No, inheritance received during marriage isn’t subject to division—I know that. I just want to confirm that my husband has absolutely ZERO rights to my grandfather’s assets. Yes, tomorrow at ten.”
She ended the call and looked at Nikolai, who had gone ghost-white.
“That’s my lawyer. A very good one. And by the way—the paintings you planned to sell as ‘copies’ are originals. They’re already registered in a catalog. Try to sell them and you’ll be charged with fraud.”
“Anna, let’s talk calmly…” Viktor Pavlovich attempted to take control.
“No,” Anna cut him off. “Talking is over. Now ALL OF YOU GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT!”
“This is our apartment…” Nikolai started.
“It’s a rented apartment, the lease is in MY name, and I pay for it with MY salary!” Anna shouted. “So get the hell out—all of you!”
“You have no right!” Valentina Petrovna barked.
“Oh, I absolutely do,” Anna grabbed the cognac bottle from the table. “See this bottle? I’ll pour it over your heads and then call the police and say a bunch of drunk people barged into my home. And, by the way, I have a camera in the hallway. It recorded everything—how you sat here carving up my inheritance.”
“A camera?” Nikolai sank into a chair. “What camera?”
“The one I installed a month ago when money started disappearing from our stash,” Anna said coldly. “And I never did find out where it went. Now I’m guessing—handouts for your dear relatives?”
Lyudmila nervously began gathering her things.
“I… I should go…”
“STOP!” Anna barked. “We’re not done. Aunt Lyuda, you need three hundred thousand? Or should we remember the two hundred thousand you borrowed from Nikolai last year and never returned? I kept quiet then—but I kept the receipts.”
“That’s… that’s family business…” Lyudmila mumbled.
“Exactly. YOUR family business. And I’m leaving this ‘family.’”
Anna turned to Igor and Marina.
“And you two lovebirds—remember how you begged for help with the down payment on your mortgage? And I gave you three hundred thousand from MY savings? Where’s the receipt? Where’s even a thank-you?”
“But we’re relatives…” Igor muttered.
“Were,” Anna snapped. “Now—OUT.”
Valentina Petrovna tried to regain control.
“Anna, you’re behaving wrongly. We only wanted what was best…”
“Go to hell with your ‘best’!” Anna exploded. “For seven years I swallowed your jabs—how I’m never the right kind of wife, how I can’t cook your precious aspic, how I don’t want to sit at home sewing socks, how I read too much. ENOUGH!”
She grabbed Valentina Petrovna’s purse and tossed it at her.
“OUT! ALL OF YOU—OUT OF HERE!”
“Nikolai, are you going to let your wife speak to us like this?” Viktor Pavlovich demanded.
Nikolai stood up, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left.
“Anna, you’re going too far. These are my parents…”
“Perfect!” Anna flung the front door open. “Go live with them, then! I’ll live here ALONE—in peace—without strategists and schemers!”
“You won’t do it…”
“Oh, I will,” Anna said. “Nikolai Viktorovich Somov, I demand you leave this apartment immediately—and take your greedy relatives with you.”
“But… my things…”
“I’ll pack them into trash bags and leave them on the landing. Now—OUT!”
Igor and Marina headed for the door first. Lyudmila hurried after them. Valentina Petrovna lifted her chin proudly.
“You’ll regret this, Anna! Nikolai is a wonderful husband, and you—”
“And I’m a free woman!” Anna cut her off. “With an inheritance, a job, and a brain. I don’t need parasites. GET OUT!”
Nikolai stood in the doorway, unable to believe what was happening.
“Anya, let’s talk… I was wrong… it was a stupid joke…”
“A joke?” Anna burst into harsh laughter. “So you’ve been ‘joking’ for seven years? When you took money ‘for a business’ and lost it playing cards? Yes, I know about that. When you said you worked late but you were actually drinking in bars? I know that too. When you lied that your salary was tiny while you were handing half of it to your parents? I know that as well!”
“How do you—”
“Because I’m not an idiot, Nikolai,” Anna said sharply. “I just loved you and kept hoping you’d change. But today… today you showed your real face. Dividing MY inheritance behind MY back—together with THESE people.” She pointed at his relatives.
Lyudmila tried to slip away unnoticed, but Anna stopped her.
“Wait, Aunt Lyuda. I’m not going to share my inheritance with any of you,” Anna said to her stunned mother-in-law. “But here’s what I will say: I want the two hundred thousand you owe back. Through court if I have to. I have every document.”
“How dare you…”
“Get out. Now. Before I call the police!”
Valentina Petrovna grabbed her husband’s arm.
“Come on, Vitya. Let her cool off. Nikolai, pack your things and move in with us.”
“Mom, but—”
“No ‘buts.’ If your wife has gone mad, that doesn’t mean you should tolerate humiliation!”
Anna stepped right up to Nikolai.
“You know what’s the funniest part? Grandpa warned me about you. He said you were a freeloader and a lazy man. But I didn’t listen—I thought it was love. God, I was stupid.”
“Anna, please…”
“No. Leave. And leave your keys.”
Nikolai slowly unclipped the keys from his keychain and placed them on the cabinet. His relatives were already gathered on the stairwell.
“You’ll regret this,” he hissed.
“Let it all burn blue for all I care!” Anna shouted, and slammed the door.
She leaned against it, breathing hard. Her hands were shaking, but her soul felt strangely light—like a huge stone had finally rolled off her shoulders.
Her phone rang. “Kolya” flashed on the screen.
Anna rejected the call and blocked his number. Then she blocked every number belonging to his relatives.
She went into the kitchen, put the kettle on, and pulled out the herbal blend Grandpa used to make. She sat at the table and opened the folder of documents.
Among the papers lay a letter from Grandpa. She opened the envelope and reread the familiar lines:
“My dear Anya! If you’re reading this, it means I’m no longer here. Don’t cry, my little granddaughter. I lived a long, good life. Everything I saved is yours now. I know you’ll use it wisely. And one more thing, sweetheart… If your Nikolai starts claiming the inheritance—send him packing. He isn’t worthy of you. You’re strong, smart, and beautiful. You’ll find someone better. For now, live for yourself. Travel, study, grow. The world is beautiful—don’t waste time on people who don’t deserve you. Your Grandpa Semyon.”
Anna smiled through tears. Grandpa had been right. As always.
A month later Anna sat in a café across from the notary office. The divorce had gone through quickly—there was no joint property to divide, no shared debts either. Nikolai tried to claim part of the inheritance, but her lawyer explained very clearly how hopeless that idea was.
“Another coffee?” the waiter asked.
“Yes, please. And a cheesecake.”
She opened her laptop and scrolled through travel agency websites. She had always dreamed of visiting Italy, studying the art of the Renaissance. Now nothing was holding her back.
Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: “Anna, it’s Kolya. Let’s meet and talk. I understand my mistakes.”
Anna smirked and deleted the message. Then she opened a chat with her friend.
“Marta, hi! Remember you invited me on that trip through Tuscany? I’m coming!”
The reply came instantly.
“Yesss!!! Finally! What about Nikolai?”
“Nikolai is the past. Along with his whole clan.”
“You’ll tell me everything?”
“Absolutely. Over a glass of wine in Italy.”
Anna closed the laptop and looked out the window. Spring was starting. Snow melted, revealing last year’s grass, and the first green shoots were already pushing up.
A new life. Without lies, betrayal, or greed.
She took out her phone and called a realtor.
“Hello, this is Anna Vorontsova. I want to rent an apartment. Yes, smaller is fine. The main thing is that the windows face a quiet courtyard. I’ll be living alone.”
Meanwhile, Nikolai sat in a cramped room in his parents’ apartment, scrolling through dating sites. He had no money at all—the last of it had gone to a lawyer who still couldn’t do anything. His parents scolded him daily for the fortune he’d let slip away. Igor and Marina stopped speaking to him once they realized there would be no payout. Lyudmila vanished the moment Anna sued her for the unpaid debt.
He stared at Anna’s photo—the one he still hadn’t deleted from his phone. Beautiful, intelligent, independent. And he had lost everything. Because of his own greed and stupidity.
“Kolya!” his mother yelled from the kitchen. “Come eat! And don’t forget—you’re finding a job tomorrow! Stop living off our backs!”
Nikolai pushed himself up heavily. Maybe karma really did exist. He snorted. He’d been plotting to take someone else’s wealth—and ended up with nothing.
To hell with that greed. And to hell with those relatives too.