Darling, let’s merge your inheritance into our shared account,” he suggested—unaware that she already knew about his secret divorce plans.

Anastasia carefully arranged the freshly baked buns on the display shelves, settling into her familiar spot behind the counter. The comforting aroma of warm bread and pastries filled the air, creating a sense of home in the small shop nestled in a quiet residential district of Yekaterinburg. For Anastasia, this bakery was far more than a business—it was the legacy her parents had left behind.
The doorbell jingled, signaling a customer’s arrival. An elderly woman stepped inside, her face lighting up with recognition.
“Good morning, Anna Petrovna!” Anastasia greeted warmly. “The usual? A loaf of Borodinsky bread and a pack of cottage cheese?”
“Oh, Nastenka,” the old woman sighed with a smile. “You always remember. That’s why I love coming here—it feels like home.”
Anastasia took pride in knowing her regular customers by name. To many in the neighborhood, this wasn’t just a store; it was a gathering place where locals exchanged news, shared stories, and found comfort in familiar faces.
As the morning rush dwindled, Anastasia sat down for a brief rest. Today marked the anniversary of her parents’ passing—three years since the accident that changed everything. The memory of her father teaching her bookkeeping and her mother showing her how to arrange the shelves was still vivid. Even back then, they had been preparing her for this moment, for adulthood, for responsibility.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of her phone. Glancing at the screen, she saw her husband’s name flashing.
“Hello, Vitya,” she answered.
“Nastya, what time will you be free today?” Victor’s voice carried an unusual excitement.
“Around seven, like always. Why?”
“Perfect! I have a surprise for you. Let’s meet at our favorite restaurant at eight.”
Anastasia smiled. Even after three years of marriage, Victor still found ways to surprise her.
“Alright, I’ll be looking forward to it.”
As she returned to her work, a thought lingered in the back of her mind. What kind of surprise could Victor be planning? Had he finally found a job? He had been unemployed for months, pouring all his energy into a startup idea. Anastasia supported him as best she could, but their finances were becoming a growing concern.
That evening at the restaurant, Anastasia spotted Victor at a table near the back, absentmindedly twirling a glass in his hands. She walked over and kissed him on the cheek.
“Well? What’s the big surprise?” she asked.
Victor’s face lit up. “Nastya, I finally found an investor for my startup!”
Anastasia’s heart swelled with joy. “Vitya, that’s amazing! Congratulations!”
“Yes,” he nodded, but then hesitated. “But there’s a small catch. To show my commitment, I need to invest some of my own money as well. And I was thinking…”
Anastasia tensed. She had a feeling where this was going.
“…maybe we should sell your store? Use the money to launch the business. In a year or two, we could be millionaires!”
A cold wave washed over Anastasia. Sell the store? The only connection she had left to her parents? Their only source of stability?
“Vitya,” she said quietly, “are you serious? You know what that store means to me.”
“Come on, Nastya,” he scoffed. “It’s just a shop. But this—this is a real opportunity!”
Anastasia shook her head. “No, Vitya. That store isn’t just a business. It’s my family’s legacy. I already have stability, a reputation. Is your project really more important than what I’ve built?”
Victor frowned. “Alright, let’s at least discuss this at home. Look at the business plan first.”
Reluctantly, Anastasia agreed, but deep down, she knew she wouldn’t change her mind.
Over the next few weeks, Victor became relentless, constantly presenting figures and projections, painting grand visions of their future wealth. But the more he insisted, the more unsettled Anastasia felt. Something about his urgency didn’t sit right.
Then one evening, she overheard a hushed phone conversation.
“Relax, Kolyan,” Victor was saying. “She’ll agree soon. Once the store is sold, I’ll handle the divorce, and the money will be ours.”
Anastasia felt her heart stop. Betrayal crashed over her like a tidal wave. Gathering her composure, she silently retreated to their bedroom, her mind racing. She needed a plan.
The next morning, she confronted Victor with a carefully crafted strategy.
“You know, Vitya,” she said over breakfast, “maybe you’re right about the shop.”
Victor’s eyes gleamed. “You mean it? You’ll sell?”
“Well… not exactly,” she hedged. “I was thinking we could register the business in both our names first. That way, we build it together.”
Victor hesitated for a fraction of a second before plastering on a grin. “That’s a great idea, dear!”
Anastasia forced a smile in return. But she had no intention of giving him control.
The next day, she met with a lawyer, taking every precaution to safeguard her inheritance. She secured legal documentation proving her sole ownership and prepared a contingency plan.
That evening, Victor brought home legal papers.
“Nastya, I’ve prepared the documents to transfer your assets into our joint account,” he said smoothly. “Just sign here.”
Anastasia took the papers and smiled. “Vitya, I know about your plan to take my money and leave me.”
Victor paled. “What? That’s ridiculous—”
“I heard your conversation with Kolyan.”
Victor stammered, “You misunderstood—”
“Enough.” Anastasia pulled out another set of documents. “These are divorce papers. The store remains mine, as it was before we married. You can take what we acquired together, but that’s it.”
Victor slumped in his chair, realizing his scheme had crumbled.
“What now?” he murmured.
“Now, you sign these and leave.”
Defeated, Victor signed the papers and walked out, sparing one last glance at the woman he had underestimated.
Anastasia took a deep breath. The weight of deception was gone. The store, her future, her peace of mind—they were all safe.
Months later, the shop flourished. Anastasia expanded her business, introduced new products, and strengthened her bond with the community. She had proven to herself that she was capable, strong, and resilient.
One day, she unexpectedly ran into Victor. He looked worn down, humbled.
“Hey, Nastya,” he said awkwardly. “I just… wanted to say I’m sorry.”
Anastasia met his gaze, searching for sincerity. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, Vitya.”
“I have,” he admitted. “Honesty and hard work are worth more than any shortcut.”
She gave him a small nod before walking away, leaving the past behind. As she returned to her shop, she smiled, knowing she had built something real—something that no one could take away from her.
Life moved forward, and so did Anastasia.