Inheritance
7 AM. Seriously, who calls at 7 in the morning on a Saturday? Marina fumbled for her phone on the nightstand, eyes still closed.
— Hello?
— Marina dear, it’s me, Valeria Petrovna. Mikhail Semyonovich and I are already coming up to your apartment. Don’t worry, we have keys.
Marina shot up in bed as if jolted by electricity. Her brain wasn’t fully awake yet, but something in her mother-in-law’s voice made her uneasy. She was way too cheerful for this hour.
— Valeria Petrovna, wait… who is Mikhail Semyonovich?
— Oh, darling, he’s the appraiser! We agreed on this with Igor yesterday… Oh, did he not mention it? Well, no matter, we’ll explain everything now!
The call ended. Marina stared at her phone, feeling a tight knot forming inside. An appraiser? What kind of appraiser? And most importantly — why?
Next to her, Igor was snoring away, still out cold after last night’s office party. Marina shook his shoulder.
— Igor! Igor, wake up right now!
— Mmm… what… Marina, let me sleep…
— Your mother is on her way here with some appraiser! What does that mean?
Igor opened one eye, and in it Marina saw… fear? Guilt? He quickly looked away.
— I don’t know… probably something to do with grandma’s inheritance…
— Igor, look at me. LOOK AT ME!
He turned to her reluctantly. Marina had known her husband for five years and could always tell when he was lying. And he was definitely lying now.
A ring at the door interrupted their conversation. Actually, not just a ring — an extended chime, like someone had decided to play the Wedding March on their doorbell.
Marina threw on her robe and went to open the door. Through the peephole, she saw her mother-in-law smiling brightly—and next to her was a middle-aged man she didn’t recognize, holding a briefcase.
“Marina, my sunshine!” Valeria Petrovna chirped the moment the door opened. “How are you feeling? No need to worry, we’ll be quick, and everything will turn out just fine!”
Without waiting for permission, she walked straight into the hallway and motioned for the man to follow her inside.
“Let me introduce you—this is Mikhail Semyonovich Krylov, a property appraiser. He’s a very experienced specialist, been working for about twenty years.”
Mikhail Semyonovich reached out to shake hands, offering Marina an apologetic smile. It was obvious he felt out of place.
“Hello… Honestly, I thought you’d been informed…”
“Informed about what?” Marina’s voice turned sharper. “Valeria Petrovna, could you please explain what’s going on?”
“Oh, there’s really nothing to explain!” her mother-in-law waved it off. “Igor and I just decided to set up a deed of gift. Just to keep things honest and fair. The apartment is such a nice, big place—what if something happens… God forbid, of course! But you never know…”
Marina felt the blood drain from her face. This apartment had been bought with her money—the money she spent three years saving up, working sixty-hour weeks at the advertising agency. The money from selling her mother’s jewelry after her death. Every single ruble invested here was hers.
“Igor!” she yelled. “GET OVER HERE!”
Her husband appeared in the hallway, pulling on his jeans. His eyes darted awkwardly, clearly guilty.
“It’s my apartment!” The mother-in-law brought an appraiser at 7 a.m.—but her daughter-in-law’s response shocked everyone.
“Igor, sweetheart,” his mother said gently, “why don’t you tell your wife what we discussed yesterday? She’s a smart girl, I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“Mom, I told you, we should’ve talked to Marina first…”
“Oh, nonsense! Why fuss between family? And besides, Mikhail Semyonovich cleared his schedule and made an appointment with us…”
Marina raised her hand, cutting off the stream of words.
“Stop. Everyone, just stop. Mikhail Semyonovich, with your permission, I’d like to see the documents. Both yours and the request for the appraisal.”
The appraiser glanced uneasily first at Valeria Petrovna, then at Igor.
“Well… your husband filed the request… as a co-owner…”
“Co-owner?” Marina felt something break inside her. “Igor, what did you tell them?”
“I… well… we’re married, so I thought it was ours…”
“NO!” Marina shouted so loudly that everyone jumped. “It’s not ours! The apartment is registered to me. Me alone. Under a bill of sale, with MY money!”
She left for the bedroom and soon returned with a folder of documents.
“Mikhail Semyonovich, here is the certificate of ownership. Do you see? The only owner is Ivanova Marina Andreyevna. Now, show me the document that gives my husband the right to handle my apartment.”
The appraiser carefully examined the papers and then gave Igor an apologetic look.
“I… I’m sorry, but it’s true, there’s only one owner listed here. If the wife doesn’t give permission…”
“Marina, dear,” Valeria Petrovna’s tone turned syrupy sweet, “why are you acting like a stranger? We’re family! And just think—what if something happened to you? God forbid! Poor Igor would be left with nothing!”
“And what if something happens to Igor?” Marina shot back. “Am I supposed to wind up out on the street?”
“How can you say that!” his mother exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “I’m his mother—I won’t let anyone hurt my son! But you… you’re young, beautiful, you’ll find another husband…”
A heavy silence filled the room—you could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. Marina looked at her mother-in-law, then at her husband. His face was full of anguish, but he stayed silent.
“I see,” Marina said quietly. “Mikhail Semyonovich, I’m sorry for the trouble. No one’s evaluating anything. There will be no gift deeds.”
“But Marina…”
“Valeriya Petrovna,” Marina’s voice turned icy, “You brought a stranger into MY apartment at seven in the morning on a Saturday to appraise MY property without MY consent, just to force me to give MY apartment to YOUR son. Am I understanding the situation correctly?”
“Well… it’s not exactly that harsh…”
“It’s exactly that. And do you know what that’s called? It’s called fraud. And extortion.”
Valeriya Petrovna turned crimson.
“How dare you! I am his mother! I’m thinking about my son’s future!”
“You’re thinking about the apartment. A free apartment.” Marina opened the door. “Mikhail Semyonovich, take care. Sorry you wasted your time.”
The appraiser quickly gathered his papers.
“It’s all right, it happens… Goodbye.”
When he left, Marina closed the door and turned to her mother-in-law.
“Now let’s talk honestly. Valeriya Petrovna, have you ever invested even a single penny into this apartment?”
“What do money matters have to do with this! It’s about family!”
“Family? Fine. Igor,” she turned to her husband, “will you explain how you could make arrangements with your mother about my apartment behind my back?”
Igor swallowed hard.
“Marina, well… mom is just worried… she’s thinking about the future…”
“What future? The one where you throw me out of my own apartment?”
“No, it’s not like that!” Valeriya Petrovna snapped. “You see what he’s like! Gentle, kind… anyone could fool him! And the apartment—at least that’s some kind of guarantee!”
“A guarantee from me, right?” Marina laughed, but her laugh was bitter. “So I’m a threat, is that it?”
“Well… things happen… divorces…”
“So that’s it!” Marina clapped her hands. “You’re already planning for our divorce! Want to protect your son in advance!”
“Marina, really! What divorce! We just want what’s best!”
“What’s best? You want me to give the apartment I bought with my money to your son. So that afterwards, I live here as a dependent. Is that your idea of ‘what’s best’?”
Valeriya Petrovna pressed her lips together.
“You’re so ungrateful. Igor married you, gave you his last name…”
“STOP!” Marina shouted. “That’s it! Enough! Igor,” she turned to her husband, “you have two minutes to choose. Either you tell your mother right now that this apartment is mine and will stay mine, or you both leave right now.”
“Marina, don’t be so hasty… let’s just talk calmly…”
“Calmly? CALMLY?! You barged into my home with an appraiser to take my apartment away from me, and I’m supposed to be calm?”
“Not take it away, just… transfer…”
“IN YOUR NAME! That’s exactly what taking it away means!”
Igor looked helplessly from his mother to his wife.
“Mom, maybe we really shouldn’t… we can deal with this later…”
“There won’t be a later!” Marina snapped. “Igor, I want to hear from you right now—whose apartment is this?”
“Well… it’s yours, of course…”
— And who will it belong to?
— To you…
— And I’m not supposed to include anyone else as a co-owner?
— No, you won’t…
Valeria Petrovna stared at her son in horror.
— Igor! What are you saying! She totally tricked you! You’re a man!
— He’s a man who respects his wife’s rights, — Marina said firmly. — Or at least he should. Valeria Petrovna, it’s time for you to go.
— Time to go? I’m his mother! I have rights…
— You have the right to visit when you’re invited. At a time that suits us. Not to burst in early in the morning with strangers.
— Igor, do you hear this? She’s throwing me out!
Igor shifted nervously from foot to foot.
— Mom, maybe you could… come back later…
— Come back later? — Valeria Petrovna exploded. — I’ve done everything for you your whole life! I raised you alone! I sacrificed everything! And this… this witch…
— OUT! — Marina screamed. — GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!
— Don’t you dare yell at me!
— I will yell! THIS IS MY HOUSE! And if you don’t leave right now, I’ll call the police!
Marina grabbed her phone.
— Hello, police? I have a domestic disturbance, unauthorized entry…
— What are you doing! — Igor snatched the phone from her. — Don’t call the police!
— Then leave together with your mommy.
— What do you mean, leave? Marina, I live here…
— You lived here. Up until you decided to take my apartment away from me.
— But I didn’t mean to… mom said…
— Mom said! — Marina mocked. — You’re thirty-two years old, Igor! Thirty-two! And you still do whatever your mother tells you!
Valeria Petrovna took her son’s arm.
— Igor, let’s go. Don’t bother with someone so… ungrateful. I have a couch at home.
— Perfect, — Marina said. — Settle in on the couch. And leave the keys.
— What keys?
— The ones you used to come in here without permission.
Igor reluctantly placed the keys on the table.
— Marina, come on, this is ridiculous… where am I supposed to live?
— That’s your problem. My problem is to protect my property from being taken.
— But we’re husband and wife!
— Husband and wife is a partnership based on trust. And you betrayed that trust.
Igor stared at her, confused.
— Marina, you can’t do this… over an apartment…
— It’s not about the apartment. It’s about the lies. About you making decisions about my things without me. About your mother’s opinion being more important to you than mine.
— Well… she is my mother…
— And what am I? The help?
Valeria Petrovna pulled her son toward the door.
— Igor, don’t humiliate yourself! See what she’s become! She’s lost her head over an apartment!
When the door closed behind them, Marina leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. Her hands were shaking, her chest burning. Five years married. Five years believing she had a family.
Turns out, what she really had was an apartment. And apparently, that’s what matters most.
The phone rang around eight in the evening. It was Igor.
— Hi, Marina… How are you?
— I’m fine.
— Listen… I’ve been thinking… maybe we shouldn’t have fought like that?
— And was it really your own idea, Igor, or your mother’s?
— My own! Honestly! Marina, let’s patch things up… I never meant to hurt you…
— Then what did you want?
A pause.
— Well… Mom just worries about my future…
— Uh-huh. So it’s Mom again.
— No, not again! I realize now that I shouldn’t have made any decisions without you…
— Igor, be honest with me: if I had agreed to transfer the apartment to you this morning, would you have refused?
A long silence followed.
— Well… I wouldn’t have refused…
— I see. Igor, until you understand the difference between a wife and a temporary tenant, there’s nothing more for us to talk about.
— Marina, that’s not fair…
— It’s exactly like that. Good night.
She hung up and turned off her phone.
City lights glowed outside the window. Somewhere out there, in one of those apartments, Valeria Petrovna was telling her son what a terrible wife he had. Somewhere nearby, Igor was sitting too, wondering how he could return to a warm apartment without losing his mother’s approval.
And here, in her own apartment, sat Marina. Alone. But in her own place. Bought with her own money, her own hard work, and her own sacrifices.
And for the first time in many years, she truly felt free.
In the morning, she would change the locks. Then, she’d call a lawyer—just to find out how to protect herself from situations like this in the future. And she’d also consider if it even made sense to stay with a man who, at thirty-two years old, still couldn’t choose between his wife and his mother.
But that could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, she simply sat in her apartment, drank tea, and thought about how sometimes losing a family is the only way to save yourself.
Money isn’t the most important thing in life, of course. But when it comes to defending your dignity, even an apartment can become a fortress.
And Marina was ready to defend her fortress.