“Kolia, you simply must teach her a lesson,” Anna Sergeyevna said coldly over the phone, proudly seated in the back of her luxury car.
She listened with irritation to her son’s response.
“Listen, I can’t be the only one constantly dealing with raising your Varvara!” she snapped. “Ugh, that name—like something a crow would croak out…”
Again, she didn’t like what Nikolai said.
“Fine, if you’re really stuck there… So be it. I’m already on my way to the office. No big deal if I run late. I’ll stop by and see for myself what’s going on.”
She ended the call with a sigh, then glanced at the driver through the rearview mirror.
“Misha, change the route!”
When the white SUV carrying Anna Sergeyevna pulled up to the barrier at the entrance to the upscale residential complex, they were met by a confused security guard.
“Sorry, the courtyard entrance is temporarily closed,” he said.
“What’s going on?”
Anna Sergeyevna leaned out the window to get to the bottom of it.
“Something weird is happening in the courtyard,” the guard explained. “We’re waiting for the police.”
Anna Sergeyevna frowned. She sensed instinctively that this sudden commotion had something to do with her. She told her driver to park nearby, stepped out of the car, and walked toward the apartment buildings. A crowd had gathered in the yard; people were filming with their phones. Pushing her way through the onlookers, her sense of unease grew.
She spotted her sister Zoya, half-dressed, yelling and shaking her fist toward the upper floors, trying to gather clothes that were scattered all over the courtyard. Items were still flying down from an apartment window on the seventh floor.
A pair of underpants floated down and landed on Anna Sergeyevna’s head. Disgusted, she brushed them off and quickly fixed her hair. Then she strode over to her sister.
“Zoya, what on earth is going on?”
“Can’t you see for yourself?!”
Sobbing, Zoya continued picking up her things while more rained down. Furious, she threw an armful of clothes to the ground and turned toward the playground.
“Igor, what are you doing? Come help!” she shouted.
Only now did Anna Sergeyevna notice Zoya’s husband Igor sitting silently on a swing, smoking. Unlike his wife, he was fully dressed and didn’t react to her yelling.
Anna Sergeyevna was starting to piece together what had happened, and her fury was building. Her sharp red nails dug into her palms.
“Good thing I came instead of Kolia,” she thought. “That spineless boy wouldn’t have done anything. But I won’t be so polite with this girl!”
She marched to the building entrance, pulling the key fob for the intercom from her bag—but didn’t get a chance to use it. A police siren wailed. A patrol car pulled up to the barrier, and the guard let it through.
Anna Sergeyevna paused, deciding to wait and let the police handle it. As the three officers approached her, she smiled.
“Glad you’re here,” she said. “I’m the owner of the apartment where all this is happening. Let’s sort this out.”
The four of them entered the building, took the elevator to the seventh floor, and stood in front of the apartment door. Anna Sergeyevna tried her key, but it wouldn’t turn.
“Looks like someone left a key in from the inside,” one officer guessed.
Annoyed, she knocked.
“Varya, open up immediately!” she ordered harshly.
No answer. Silence.
Boiling again, Anna Sergeyevna pounded louder.
“Open up, you little tramp, or it’ll get worse!”
Neither she nor the officers initially noticed the elevator doors opening behind them. There were five other apartments on the floor, but the person who stepped out headed straight toward them.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “Is there a problem?”
When Anna Sergeyevna saw who it was, she went pale.
“You?”
What happened next completely shattered the confidence of the high-powered businesswoman.
Anna Sergeyevna couldn’t stop laughing, even though they were in a restaurant full of people. Her son Nikolai looked embarrassed, glancing around nervously.
“Mom, what’s with this reaction?” he finally asked.
Nikolai kept eyeing the restrooms, where Varvara had gone. Anna Sergeyevna wiped away tears of laughter and finally calmed down.
“God… Where did you dig up this scarecrow?” she said, staring at her son in disbelief, with a tinge of pity. “Aren’t you even a little embarrassed by your choice?”
“Mom, please stop.”
Nikolai looked like a guilty schoolboy.
“So where did you meet her?” his mother asked again.
“At the supermarket. She was working at the checkout,” he answered quietly.
“Bravo! What a match!” Anna Sergeyevna clapped sarcastically. “Couldn’t you have found someone more ridiculous? Kolia, don’t tell me there aren’t any decent girls around you?”
“Mom, all they care about is money, clothes, and vacations. Varya’s different. I really like her,” he said. “She’s simple, easy to be around. No drama, no demands.”
“Sounds like a schemer to me, if she managed to trap you.”
Their conversation was interrupted as Varya returned from the restroom and walked back to their table. She looked out of place in the upscale restaurant with its posh clientele.
Too plain, as Anna Sergeyevna later put it. Even Varya herself felt uncomfortable in the fancy setting Nikolai had chosen for her to meet his mother.
Out of courtesy, Anna Sergeyevna refrained from any obvious ridicule. Still, the evening was tense.
But Nikolai and Varya got married anyway.
Anna Sergeyevna slightly reconsidered her opinion of the girl. Maybe it was for the best. A quiet, meek daughter-in-law would worship her forever—or so she thought.
Anna Sergeyevna had divorced Nikolai’s father when he was only seven. She and Dmitry had married as students, started a business from scratch, and found success. Financially, they did well, but warmth and affection in the marriage faded quickly. They became strangers to each other.
There were rumors Anna had cheated and been caught in the act, but Dmitry never commented. They divided their assets and each went their own way.
Nikolai stayed with his mother, though Dmitry initially wanted his son to live with him.
“You’ll raise him into a doormat,” he warned her.
But Nikolai was already a full-fledged mama’s boy and reacted to his father’s idea with a meltdown.
To her credit, Anna Sergeyevna turned out to be a very effective businesswoman. She believed in her own power and completely dominated her son, who barely saw his father.
And so the son grew up—and brought Varvara into his life.
Anna Sergeyevna rented them an apartment in a nice complex. She hosted business partners at home often, and her plain daughter-in-law didn’t fit the image.
Outside of her social events, however, Anna Sergeyevna took great pleasure in assigning her daughter-in-law endless chores. Varya often replaced the maid.
“You should remember who you owe everything to,” the mother-in-law constantly reminded her. “I hope you don’t think my son is the reason you live like this?”
And Varya said nothing. She had quit her supermarket job to keep up with her mother-in-law’s demands. Back in her village, she had a sick mother and a younger brother who depended on the money she regularly sent. Now she had to take that money from her husband’s “allowance,” or more accurately, from his mother’s charity.
Nikolai worked, but wasn’t exactly a star employee.
When Anna Sergeyevna’s company hit financial trouble, she fired the maid. Varya officially took over that role—without pay, of course.
She didn’t complain to Nikolai, and he pretended not to notice.
Everything reached a boiling point when Anna Sergeyevna’s younger sister Zoya and her husband Igor came to visit. Nikolai was away, and Anna had a new idea for tormenting her daughter-in-law—she put Zoya and Igor in the couple’s apartment.
“You’re obligated to serve my relatives,” she told a stunned Varya. “You’ll just have to work double.”
Compared to her older sister, Zoya was the “poor relative” and had a big chip on her shoulder. She saw this as a perfect chance to boss around the “village Cinderella.” Sometimes she got so carried away even her husband Igor tried to intervene.
“Why do you care?” Zoya snapped. “Got a thing for the little stray?”
One day Varya left without saying anything. When she returned, Zoya exploded—hurling insults and even slapping her.
Igor wasn’t home at the time—he’d gone out to buy cigarettes.
Suddenly, Varya slapped her back, then grabbed a dish towel and chased her out of the apartment, striking her as she went. The stunned “lady” barely realized she’d ended up on the landing.
Zoya tried to get back inside, but Varya locked the door. Through the window, Zoya saw their suitcases flying down from the seventh floor. She used a bystander’s phone to call her sister but couldn’t explain much.
Anna Sergeyevna was in shock, staring at her ex-husband who calmly walked past her and the officers, approached the door, and knocked.
“Varya, sweetheart, it’s me,” he said.
The door opened immediately. Dmitry turned to the police.
“So, what’s the issue?” he asked calmly.
“We received a complaint from this woman…” one officer began, glancing at Anna Sergeyevna.
“Interesting,” Dmitry smirked. “That woman moved her relatives into an apartment without the owner’s consent.”
“What owner?” Anna Sergeyevna tried to protest.
“Varvara is the legal owner of this apartment. I bought it and registered it in her name,” Dmitry explained. “I’m her father-in-law. Any more questions? By the way…”
He turned to Varya.
“Sweetheart, you can file a police report for unlawful entry into your residence.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Dmitry noticed his ex-wife had gone pale. She had no idea that Nikolai had introduced his wife to his father. Dmitry had taken a liking to the girl and had learned her full story.
“You did all this just to spite me?” Anna Sergeyevna asked bitterly.
“I did it for the kids’ well-being,” Dmitry replied. “I hope Nikolai takes this as a lesson. Because now, whether he lives here or not is entirely up to Varvara.”
Varya invited her father-in-law in for tea and a chat, while Anna Sergeyevna went off to deal with her humiliated relatives. She realized her world would never be the same again.