“In our family, money is kept by the elders,” my father-in-law declared, but my answer destroyed his perfect plan of control in a single second.
Gleb Borisovich sat at the head of the table with his hands folded over his stomach. His wife, Tamara Petrovna, gazed at him with devotion, while my husband, Oleg, nervously shifted his eyes from his father to me.
“You young people only know how to spend,” my father-in-law continued, tapping his finger against the polished wood. “Your mother and I have lived a whole life. We know the value of every kopeck. So the card, Alina, the one your grandfather transferred the inheritance to, put it on the dresser. We’ll decide ourselves how to handle that money. We’ll build you a house. Ours. Shared. Big.”
I took a deep breath. Everything inside me was boiling, but my voice came out surprisingly calm.
“That money will stay in my personal account, Gleb Borisovich. And I will be the only one deciding what to do with it.”
A heavy, ringing silence fell over the room. Tamara Petrovna gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Oleg turned pale, and my father-in-law’s face slowly began turning crimson.
“What did you say?” he asked, leaning forward. “Repeat that.”
“I said my money will stay with me. It is an inheritance from my grandfather, and it has nothing to do with your family or your plans,” I said clearly.
“Alina, why are you being so harsh?” Oleg finally spoke, grabbing the sleeve of my sweater. “Father only wants what’s best. We really don’t know how to save money. And this way there will be a house outside the city.”
“Oleg, let go of my hand,” I said, turning to my husband. “You and I have been living in a rented apartment for two years. We are saving for our own down payment on a mortgage. What do my grandfather’s money have to do with your parents’ country house, where we won’t even be the owners?”
“What do you mean, you won’t be?” my father-in-law shouted, slamming his palm on the table. “We are one family! Or do you consider us strangers? You entered our home, Alina! My son married you!”
“Your son took me as his wife, Gleb Borisovich, not as his slave,” I said, standing up from the chair. “And I never entered your home. We live separately and pay our own rent. My salary and my inheritance are my personal business.”
“Enough!” my father-in-law also rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing. “Oleg, control your wife. She has lost all fear. A mother’s word means nothing to her, and my word is an empty sound. If she doesn’t hand over the card right now, she can pack her things. We don’t need selfish women like her in our family.”
“Dad, wait,” Oleg mumbled, stepping between us. “Alina, seriously, apologize to my father. You’re wrong. We put everything into a shared fund.”
I looked at my husband, and I felt disgusted. The man I had married now looked like a frightened five-year-old boy, ready to hand over everything just so Daddy wouldn’t be angry.
“What shared fund, Oleg?” I asked, looking him straight in the eyes. “The one your father took one hundred thousand rubles from three months ago to buy himself a new trailer for his car? Without even asking us? Is that what you call a shared fund?”
“The trailer is needed for work!” Tamara Petrovna shouted from the sofa. “Father uses it to transport construction materials! For you, you ungrateful people!”
“I don’t need a trailer, Tamara Petrovna. And I don’t need a house outside the city either. I need my own apartment in the city, closer to work,” I said, shifting my gaze to my father-in-law. “I will not give you the card. This conversation is over.”
I turned around and walked into the hallway. Oleg ran after me, glancing back at his father as he went.
“Alina, wait! Where are you going? Let’s talk normally, without emotions!” He caught me right by the door and tried to put his arms around my shoulders.
“Don’t touch me, Oleg. I’m going home,” I said as I put on my sneakers. My hands were trembling a little, but I tried to hold myself together.
“Have you lost your mind?” he whispered, looking back at the closed living room door. “Do you understand what you’ve just done? Father won’t talk to us now. His heart could give out!”
“His heart is perfectly fine when he needs to grab someone else’s money,” I snapped. “Are you coming with me, or are you staying here?”
“I can’t leave now. I need to calm Father down,” Oleg lowered his eyes. “Alina, please be smarter. Just give them that amount. We still don’t have enough for an apartment anyway, and at least we won’t fight with my parents. Father promised to give us a room on the second floor.”
I froze with my jacket in my hands.
“A room on the second floor? For money that would cover half of our own apartment? Do you even hear yourself?”
“What difference does it make whose apartment it is if we’re family?” Oleg suddenly shouted. “Why do you always divide everything? Mine, yours! Father is right. You’re selfish!”
I said nothing. I simply opened the door, stepped onto the landing, and called the elevator. My husband’s shouts flew after me, but I didn’t even turn around.
I shook the whole way home in the taxi. The inheritance from my grandfather was not huge, but it was a significant amount — about two million rubles. Grandpa had saved it his entire life, denying himself many things, and before his death, he had strictly forbidden me to waste that money on nonsense.
“Buy yourself a home, Alya, so you won’t depend on anyone,” he used to say.
And I intended to fulfill his wish.
At home, I made tea, trying to calm down. It was already eleven at night when the key turned in the lock. Oleg came in. His face was gloomy and determined. He didn’t even take off his shoes, just walked straight into the room.
“We need to have a serious talk,” he said from the doorway.
“Take off your shoes first. You’re tracking dirt everywhere,” I answered calmly.
He irritably kicked off his boots and sat on the sofa across from me.
“I talked to Father. He is ready to compromise.”
“Oh really? And what does the great Gleb Borisovich’s compromise involve?” I took a sip of tea.
“Stop acting like a clown, Alina. The situation is very serious. Father said the money can be placed into an account opened in my name. Then he’ll be sure it won’t leave the family. You never know, maybe you’ll decide to leave me. This way, everything is fair. We are husband and wife, after all.”
I nearly choked on my tea.
“In your name? So your father thinks that if the money is in your account, it’s safe, but if it’s in mine, it isn’t?”
“Yes, because you’re acting unpredictably. Today you made a scandal out of nothing and insulted my parents.”
“Oleg, this money belongs to me by law and by conscience. It will not be transferred to your account or your parents’ account. That is my final word. If that doesn’t suit you, the door is open.”
Oleg jumped up from the sofa, his face twisting with anger.
“Oh, so that’s how it is? The door is open? You’re ready to destroy our family over money?”
“Your parents are destroying this family by trying to get into my pocket, and so are you, because you allow them to do it,” I replied, looking him straight in the eyes.
“Go to hell with your money!” Oleg shouted. “You think you’re so smart? We’ll see how you talk when you’re alone!”
He rushed into the bedroom and began yanking drawers out of the dresser with a crash, throwing his things into a large sports bag. I didn’t move. I sat in the kitchen and listened to the noise, feeling something inside me finally break.
Did I love him? Yes, I did. But I had no intention of living in eternal submission to his authoritarian father and spineless husband.
About ten minutes later, Oleg appeared in the hallway with the bag in his hand.
“I’m going to my parents. Until you apologize to me and to Father, I’m not coming back. I’m giving you three days to think.”
“You don’t have to come back, Oleg. Tomorrow I’m filing for divorce,” I said quietly.
He froze at the door, clearly not expecting that turn of events. His plan to scare me by leaving had failed.
“Are you joking?” His voice cracked into a higher pitch. “You’re divorcing me over some card?”
“Not over the card. Because I don’t have a husband. I only have an attachment to Gleb Borisovich. Goodbye.”
Oleg slammed the door so hard that the glass in the kitchen cabinet rattled.
I barely slept for the rest of the night. I sorted through documents and searched for our marriage certificate. In the morning, right after work, I went to the registry office and filed an application. Thank God, we had no children, and there was nothing to divide except the rented apartment, so the process should not drag on.
Two days passed. I blocked my father-in-law’s and mother-in-law’s numbers, but I didn’t block Oleg’s. We still needed to resolve matters concerning his things and the divorce.
On Thursday evening, I received a notification from my mobile banking app. I opened the app and went numb. From our joint savings account, where we had been putting money aside for the down payment and where I transferred half of my salary every month, all the money had been withdrawn.
Four hundred and fifty thousand rubles.
In the “recipient” field, it said: Gleb Borisovich Sh.
My vision darkened. It was our shared money, but the account was in Oleg’s name because his bank offered better interest rates. And he had simply taken it and given it to his father.
I immediately called Oleg. He answered after the third ring, his voice smug.
“Hello, Alina. What, did you miss me? Have you realized what it feels like to be alone?”
“Where is the money from the account, Oleg?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
“Oh, that,” he chuckled. “That’s compensation. For the moral damage you caused my family. Besides, Father said that since you’re keeping your inheritance, that money rightfully belongs to us. We planned to use it for shared needs. So Father invested it into the construction. The bricks have already been delivered.”
“You stole my money, Oleg. Half of that amount is my hard-earned money that I saved from my bonuses.”
“What theft, Alina? We’re married. The money is shared. I spend it wherever I want. That’s what Father said. So calm down and take it as a lesson. Next time, you’ll respect your elders.”
“Your father is a thief, and so are you,” I said, then hung up.
I sat on the sofa, breathing heavily. The burning anger inside me turned into cold, calculated rage.
They thought they had trapped me? They thought I would be left with nothing and crawl back on my knees begging for forgiveness?
They had chosen the wrong woman.
I opened my laptop and began taking action. First, I called the owner of the apartment we were renting.
“Hello, Viktor Nikolayevich? Good afternoon, this is Alina. I wanted to let you know that Oleg and I are moving out. The lease agreement is in my name, so I’m terminating it. Yes, you can keep the thirty-thousand-ruble deposit as payment for the last month, but I’ll bring you the key tomorrow.”
“All right, Alina. It’s a shame. You were good tenants,” the landlord replied.
“Thank you, Viktor Nikolayevich. I’ll meet you at the apartment tomorrow at noon to hand over the keys.”
The next call was to my friend Lena, who owned a small cargo van. She delivered furniture for a living.
“Lena, hi. I need your help. And your van. Tomorrow morning, I urgently need to move some things.”
“Hi, Alya! What happened? Did that husband of yours mess up again?” my friend asked, holding her breath.
“Worse. He and his father took all our savings. I’m leaving him. I need to take everything that belongs to me. And almost everything here belongs to me, except his clothes and old laptop.”
“Got it. I’ll be at your place at nine in the morning with a couple of strong guys from the delivery service. We’ll arrange a surprise for your beloved husband.”
Friday morning began with packing. We worked quickly and smoothly. Lena’s guys packed up the appliances and furniture that had been bought with my money and my parents’ money: the new refrigerator, the washing machine, the expensive orthopedic mattress, the plasma TV, and even the kitchen set that I had personally ordered three months earlier.
By eleven in the morning, the apartment was completely empty. In the middle of the bare room stood Oleg’s lonely sports bag with the remaining things he hadn’t managed to take, and his old computer tower on the floor.
At noon, Viktor Nikolayevich arrived. He looked around at the empty walls, raised his eyebrows in surprise, but didn’t argue. The agreement clearly stated that the furniture was ours. I handed him the keys, we signed the handover act, and I went outside.
But that was not all. The real ending of this story was about to unfold right now.
I knew that on Fridays Gleb Borisovich worked only until lunchtime, then drove to that very country house where the construction was taking place. Oleg was also there now. He had taken a day off to help his father unload the very bricks bought with my money.
I called a taxi and went to the suburban village. I knew my father-in-law’s country house address by heart.
When the car pulled up to the tall iron gates, I saw the scene: a brand-new trailer, loaded to the top with red bricks, stood in the yard. My father-in-law, wearing a work jacket, was giving orders, while Oleg and some hired worker carried bricks onto the plot.
I got out of the car and loudly slammed the door. All three of them turned around. Oleg’s face showed strong surprise that quickly turned into triumph. He had decided that I had come to reconcile.
“Oh, look who showed up!” Gleb Borisovich shouted loudly, wiping sweat from his forehead. “What, Alina, have you come to your senses? Realized you can’t go against family? Fine, come in. We’re not proud people. We’ll accept your apology.”
I walked up to the gates without entering the yard.
“I didn’t come to apologize, Gleb Borisovich,” I said loudly and clearly. “I came to get back what is mine.”
“What exactly did you come to get back?” my father-in-law frowned. “Oleg, what nonsense is she talking about?”
Oleg came closer, taking off his work gloves as he walked.
“Alina, stop putting on a show. The money is already being used. Look, we bought the bricks. We’re laying the foundation. Stop acting foolish. Go to Father and say the right words.”
“Oleg, did you not hear me clearly on the phone?” I took a sheet of paper from my handbag. “This is a copy of the police report regarding fraud and theft of funds from the savings account. Yes, the account is in your name, but I have statements from all my salary cards for the past two years, showing that exactly half of that amount was transferred from my account by me. And I have a recording of our phone conversation from yesterday, where you directly said that you took that money without my consent and gave it to your father. By law, this is jointly acquired marital property, and you had no right to spend it without the consent of your spouse. My lawyer said the case is one hundred percent winnable.”
Oleg’s face instantly turned gray. He looked at his father.
“Dad… she filed a report. And she has a recording…”
“What police?” my father-in-law shouted, running toward us. “You think you can scare me, girl? You won’t prove anything! That is my son’s money!”
“I will prove it, Gleb Borisovich. And your son is facing a very real sentence, or at the very least a huge fine and a criminal record. He is twenty-six years old, with his whole life ahead of him and a good job. What do you think his bosses will say when a summons arrives?” I looked at Oleg, who was already trembling slightly. “And one more thing, Oleg. I gave up the apartment. The lease has been terminated. Your bag is waiting for you at Viktor Nikolayevich’s place, and all the furniture and appliances are already in my new storage unit. The apartment is empty. You won’t even have anything to sleep on tonight.”
“Empty?” Oleg stammered. “What about the refrigerator? The TV?”
“All with me. You can file for division of property if you want, but the court costs will be higher than what it’s worth to you.”
“You… you snake!” my father-in-law hissed, his fists clenching. “Oleg, don’t listen to her! She won’t do anything!”
“I will, Gleb Borisovich. I’m going straight from here to the police station. If my two hundred and twenty-five thousand rubles are not returned to my card within half an hour, the report will be officially registered. Your time starts now.”
I turned around and walked toward the taxi waiting for me.
“Alina, wait!” Oleg shouted. He ran out through the gates, caught up with me, and grabbed my arm. “Wait! Don’t go to the police! I’ll transfer the money to you! I’ll transfer it right now!”
“Oleg, what are you doing?” his father screamed from the yard. “Don’t you dare transfer anything to her! Let her go to hell!”
“Dad, shut up!” Oleg suddenly shouted back at his father. “I don’t need a criminal record! I have a career! Are you going to find me a new job afterward?”
Oleg frantically pulled his phone out of his pocket. His fingers fumbled, and he entered the wrong password several times. I stood silently and watched him. There was no pity left in me, no hurt either — only emptiness and relief.
Two minutes later, my phone beeped. I opened the screen. Two hundred and twenty-five thousand rubles had arrived in my account.
“Well? Are you satisfied?” Oleg asked, breathing heavily. Beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead. “You destroyed everything, Alina. Are you happy now?”
“Very, Oleg. I have already filed for divorce. The summons will come to your parents’ address, since you no longer have an apartment of your own.”
I got into the taxi, gave the driver the address of my new rented apartment, and closed the door. The car pulled away, leaving behind Oleg standing in the middle of the road and his father still shouting angrily by the gates.
I leaned back in the seat and smiled.
My perfect plan for freedom had worked one hundred percent.
Grandpa would have been proud of me.