“You stole my money?! No, Sergey, now you’ll pay for EVERYTHING — including your mother!”
Rita woke up to the alarm at 5 a.m. It was dark. Exhaustion had settled into every fiber of her body. Yesterday’s report, written until midnight… “Just a little more,” she encouraged herself, “and I’ll buy that red car. And then… I’ll finally get some sleep.”
She got up and poured herself a strong black coffee.
“Are you up?” Sergey’s hoarse voice came from the bedroom. He stood in the doorway, wearing crumpled boxer shorts.
“Yes, work doesn’t wait.”
“Did you even sleep?”
“An hour. Maybe two.”
“That’s not normal,” he stated like a doctor.
“You know, when you’re lying around watching football, I’m hardly in the mood to sleep,” she snapped.
“Starting again? The fact is, you got yourself into this trap.”
“Oh, thanks for the concern!” Her words burned the air. “And who’s going to pay the mortgage? The renovation your mother wants?”
Sergey slammed his fist on the table.
“Enough! You always turn everything into a reproach!”
“Because you don’t see the obvious! I work like crazy, and you…”
He grabbed her wrist.
“Do you think it’s easy for me? Watching you burn out?”
“How touching. But it doesn’t stop you from spending my money.”
“Our money,” he hissed.
“No. Mine.”
Sergey released her hand.
“Mom is coming today,” he said.
“Oh, great! So I get to hear how bad a wife I am too?”
“I hate that you’re always on her side!” Sergey shouted.
“Are you crazy?”
“No, Sergey. I just woke up.”
She grabbed her bag and left, slamming the door.
Returning in the evening, Rita froze at the doorway. The apartment door was ajar. Dirty shoe prints were on the floor — not his.
“Sergey?” Silence.
On the kitchen table lay a torn envelope. Plane tickets. Moscow – Istanbul. Tonight, 11:50 p.m. In Sergey’s and his mother’s names.
Blood ran cold in her temples. She rushed to the bedroom. The dresser drawers were open, Sergey’s clothes gone.
Grabbing her phone, she opened her banking app. “Last transaction: transfer of 2,850,000 rubles…”
“Bitch…” she whispered.
She immediately called Sergey. He answered calmly, as if just waking up.
“You stole my money?!” Her scream could have shattered glass.
“Don’t raise your voice. It’s compensation. For all your hysterics.”
“I’m calling the police!”
“Go ahead,” he laughed lazily. “You yourself added me as a trusted user on the account. Everything’s legal. Mom says the apartment is hers now. The documents are ready. So… move out by tonight.”
Click. He hung up.
Rita stood in the empty bedroom when the door creaked open. Mother-in-law Nina Vasilyevna entered, wearing a new coat and carrying a huge Louis Vuitton bag — the very one Rita had been saving for.
“Oh, there you are! Taking what’s mine,” she smiled. “Sergey’s already at the airport. I came for the rest.”
“The rest of what?”
“Well, your jewelry, your fur coat… Winters are cold in Turkey.”
“You’re… insane.”
“Oh, dear, no need for hysteria. You brought this on yourself. Should’ve been more compliant.”
“Get out!” Rita lunged at her.
At that moment, the phone rang. Unknown number.
“Rita Petrova?” a male voice said. “This is Maxim from the bank. We detected a suspicious transfer. Do you confirm this operation?”
“No. This is fraud,” her voice trembled but held hope.
“Alright. We will temporarily block the transfer. You need to come to the branch urgently.”
Rita rushed out of the apartment. Taxi, traffic, nerves on edge. She made it. Maxim was already waiting.
“Sign here and here,” he handed over documents.
She signed.
“Is the transfer blocked for good now?”
“Yes.”
But joy was short-lived.
“There she is! She attacked me!” a loud voice rang out.
Nina Vasilyevna stood in the doorway, hair disheveled, with a bruise under her eye.
“She hit me!” the mother-in-law screamed. “I barely escaped!”
Rita froze. It was a trap.
At that moment, the bank security chief entered the staff room where they were taken.
“Nina Vasilyevna Sokolova?” His voice turned icy. “Interesting. You’re flagged in our system as a potential fraudster. A month ago, a similar incident happened at another branch — also an ‘attack’ and an attempted urgent transfer.”
The mother-in-law paled and tried to flee but was intercepted.
The door opened again, and Sergey appeared.
“Mom… It’s over.”
He showed his phone — a police report with his signature.
“I told everything. About the past schemes. The forged documents. Everything.”
Rita couldn’t believe her ears.
The policeman took Sergey by the shoulder.
“Are you ready to give official testimony?”
“Yes. But…” he glanced at Rita. “Forgive me.”
She turned away.
Nina Vasilyevna suddenly screamed:
“Traitor! I did all this for you!”
“No, mom. For yourself.”
The interrogation lasted late into the night. The investigator asked Rita to enter the office where Sergey sat.
“I asked for this meeting,” Sergey’s voice was even, without remorse.
“Well? Where’s your ‘sorry’?”
“I found something interesting,” he pushed a folder toward her. “Mom’s secret stash. Swiss accounts. Property in Sochi. It was supposed to be mine. But then she decided to flee to Turkey alone. With all the money.”
Rita couldn’t hold back laughter.
“Oh God… You didn’t turn her in because of me. You did it because she cheated you.”
“And what did you expect?! For me to be her errand boy all my life?!”
“I wanted you to be a man! But you’re just a younger version of your mother!”
The door suddenly opened.
“Sergey Petrov? You’re under arrest on suspicion of complicity in fraud,” a dry voice said as an officer pulled out handcuffs.
“Rita… tell them…” He reached out a trembling hand.
“Goodbye, Sergey,” she said coldly.
A month later, Rita stood on an empty beach in Sochi. In her pocket was the key to a new apartment — the very one once owned by Nina Vasilyevna.
Her phone rang.
“Rita Petrova? This is Sergey’s lawyer. He asks me to tell you that…”
“Tell him,” she interrupted, staring at the turquoise waves, “that I sold his collection of expensive watches. Very profitably.”
Silence on the line.
“He said you’d be… less harsh.”
Rita smirked.
“He was wrong.”
She threw the phone in her bag and walked toward the water. Somewhere far behind, the phone rang again. But she didn’t look back.
