Anya quietly stirred the soup, thinking about how her culinary abilities had never been criticized by her husband. However, it was her grandmother’s apartment, inherited from her, that had become their home, and her income as a piano teacher was the only stable money they had while Kirill “was launching his business.”
“It’s a relief that you won’t ever have these kinds of problems,” Anya said as she handed him a bowl of steaming borscht. “After all, you’re a genius businessman.”
Kirill didn’t even notice the sarcasm—he simply snorted with satisfaction and began eating.
A week later, the conversation about bankruptcy became a reality. Kirill returned home, pale and with bloodshot eyes, the scent of cheap whiskey lingering on him. He threw his briefcase into the corner and slumped into a chair, not even bothering to take off his shoes.
“We’re finished,” he declared dramatically. “Completely and irreparably.”
Anya, who had been rocking Masha to sleep, froze.
“What happened?”
“Everything happened!” he yelled, pounding the armrest. “A major client pulled out, the tax office imposed huge fines, the bank wants its loan back early… We’re completely screwed, do you get it?”
Anya understood. She could tell that Kirill, despite all his talk of “cutting the excess,” was now panicking.
“Calm down,” Anya said, placing Masha in her crib. “Let’s sort this out. What exactly are the company’s debts?”
“Millions!” Kirill waved his hands in frustration. “The suppliers are suing us, we can’t pay the employees, the tax office is about to seize our accounts… Anya, it’s over.”
She looked at him closely. After five years of marriage, she had learned how to read his moods. When he was truly worried, his left eye would twitch. But now, his eye remained calm.
“And what do you suggest?” she asked carefully.
“The only way out is to liquidate the debts,” Kirill suddenly calmed down and began speaking with business-like clarity. “We’ll have to sell everything. Starting with the apartment.”
“This apartment?” Anya clarified. “My grandmother’s apartment, which has nothing to do with your business?”
“It’s not just yours, it’s ours,” Kirill snapped. “We’re a family, and if we don’t sell it now voluntarily, the bailiffs will come and throw us out. Is that what you want?”
Anya sat down on the armrest of a chair nearby.
“And what about the money from the sale? Will the creditors take it all?”
Kirill bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably.
“Not exactly…” he hesitated. “There’s an option. If we divorce before the lawsuits begin, some of the property will remain yours, since it’s not related to the business. It’s a standard legal tactic.”
“Divorce?” Anya raised an eyebrow. “You’re suggesting we get divorced to keep the money?”
“It’s a fake divorce, silly,” Kirill smiled, taking her hand. “Just a legal procedure. We sell the apartment, give some of the money to the creditors, and hide the rest in your account. Once everything settles, we can remarry. Simple, right?”
Anya looked at his hand, gripping hers a little too tightly, too confidently for someone whose business was supposedly in turmoil.
“Alright,” she said finally. “We’ll talk to a lawyer tomorrow. I need to understand all the details.”
“What details?” Kirill frowned. “We don’t have time for lawyers. We need to act fast.”
“I won’t act fast when it comes to our daughter’s future,” Anya snapped, pulling her hand away. “Either we do everything legally, with professional advice, or nothing.”
Kirill scowled but didn’t argue. He knew when his usually quiet, obedient wife had made up her mind.
The lawyer, an experienced woman, listened to Kirill’s tale of financial ruin.
“Strange,” she said, reviewing the documents Kirill had brought. “According to the papers, your situation isn’t as bad as you say. There are debts, but they aren’t catastrophic for a company of your size.”
“These numbers are outdated,” Kirill interrupted. “It’s much worse now. Please, just tell us about the divorce procedure.”
The lawyer turned to Anya.
“Are you sure you want to divorce? Especially with a small child involved?”
“No,” Anya answered honestly. “But if it’s the only way to protect my daughter from the consequences of bankruptcy…”
“There are other ways to protect,” the lawyer tapped her pen on the table. “For instance, your apartment, as premarital property, is not subject to creditor claims, unless you co-signed any loans.”
Anya shook her head.
“No, I didn’t sign anything.”
“So why sell the apartment?” the lawyer asked, turning to Kirill.
“Because, by law, creditors can claim half of the joint property,” he replied quickly. “Divorce would at least protect part of it.”
“True, but only for property acquired during the marriage,” the lawyer pointed out. “Premarital property is already protected.”
Kirill shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“That’s theoretical. But in practice, the courts can do whatever they want. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
The lawyer shrugged.
“It’s your decision. But I see no reason to rush to sell the apartment.”
When they left the lawyer’s office, Kirill was grim, muttering about the incompetence of the lawyer.
“This fool doesn’t understand real business,” he complained. “Let’s just do what I say. I’ve got everything figured out.”
Anya didn’t respond, but her mind was filled with questions. If the apartment was protected by law, why sell it? If the company wasn’t in a critical situation, why the panic? And why was Kirill pushing for a quick divorce?
“I need to think,” she said finally. “And I’ll talk to my mom.”
“What does your mom have to do with this?” Kirill exploded. “These are our family matters!”
“She’s a financial expert with thirty years of experience,” Anya reminded him. “And she cares about you like a son. Maybe she can offer some advice.”
Anya’s mother, Elena Viktorovna, couldn’t stand Kirill, but Anya knew he feared her. That’s why she needed her mother’s help.
“Fine,” Kirill reluctantly agreed. “But don’t drag this out. Time is against us.”
When Anya spoke with her mother, Elena’s skepticism was apparent.
“Bankruptcy?” she scoffed. “Have you seen any documents to prove this? Tax notices? Lawsuits? Or is it just another dramatic story from your husband?”
Anya reflected. She hadn’t seen any solid proof of Kirill’s claims—just his word.
“Why sell the apartment if it’s not even subject to seizure?” her mother continued. “Premarital property is already protected. Even if the business is failing, your property stays yours.”
“But Kirill says that the courts might make a different decision…”
“That’s nonsense!” Elena Viktorovna interrupted. “Premarital property is sacred. No court will take your apartment.”
Anya felt a weight lift from her chest. She had suspected for days that something wasn’t right with Kirill’s story.
“What do you suggest?” Anya asked quietly.
“Test him,” her mother said. “Tell him you’ll agree to the divorce, but you’ll sell the apartment yourself. The money will stay in your account until everything is fully sorted.”
“What if he doesn’t agree?”
“Then you’ll get answers to all your questions,” Elena said calmly. “And remember, at any time, you and Masha can come back to me. My apartment is big enough for all of us.”
That evening, Anya told Kirill she agreed to the divorce but with conditions.
“I’ll sell the apartment myself,” she said firmly. “Through an agency recommended by mom. The money stays in my account until the official divorce, then we’ll figure out the next steps.”
Kirill tensed, his confident smile fading.
“But we need to act quickly! If we wait for your slow agencies…”
“Either like this, or not at all,” Anya cut him off. “This is my apartment, and I won’t rush its sale.”
Kirill was unusually attentive that evening—helping with Masha, doing the dishes, even suggesting watching a movie together. Anya agreed, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She was beginning to suspect Kirill’s bankruptcy story was a lie.
A week later, while Kirill was in the shower, Anya checked his phone. She found bank statements showing multiple transfers of large sums labeled “For Mom.”
“Why is he transferring money to his mother if the company is bankrupt?” she thought.
Anya’s suspicions were confirmed. Kirill wasn’t bankrupt; he was hiding money, preparing an exit strategy.
It took all of Anya’s composure to keep playing the obedient wife. Her anger was boiling inside—not just because of the betrayal, but because Kirill had been ready to strip his daughter of her home.
A month later, her mother-in-law showed up at their apartment with complaints.
“Kirill doesn’t help me anymore,” Nina Petrovna declared. “I know who’s to blame.”
Anya raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend!” Nina huffed. “If you had helped your husband with his business instead of staying home with the baby, his company wouldn’t have failed!”
Anya smiled sarcastically.
“Are you serious? Kirill told me to leave my job and focus only on the house and the baby.”
Nina Petrovna continued her rant, but Anya interrupted her.
“Kirill said a lot of things,” Anya replied calmly. “But the truth is, the company is fine, and your son is hiding money.”
The truth finally came out. Kirill’s lies unraveled, and Nina Petrovna realized her son’s betrayal. She was ashamed of him.
Anya had her victory. Her apartment was hers, and Kirill’s business was on the verge of collapse. The divorce was final, and Kirill had nothing left.