“Why did you go there without me at all?” my mother-in-law’s voice shook on the phone, trembling with anger she could barely keep in check, and Valentina felt something inside her tighten with the certainty that trouble was coming.
Valentina stood by the window in the notary’s office, inheritance papers in her hand. A worn old apartment in the city center—left to her by her grandmother five years earlier—was finally being registered after a long legal battle with distant relatives. And now, when only one final step remained, her mother-in-law had found out.
“Galina Petrovna, this is my inheritance. From my grandmother. I don’t understand what this has to do with…”
“What does it have to do with me?” her mother-in-law snapped, her voice turning icy. “It has everything to do with me, because you’re part of our family! And in a family, matters like this are decided together. Stay there. I’m coming.”
Valentina lowered the phone. Her hands were trembling. She knew that tone. She knew what was about to begin. Galina Petrovna could turn any happiness into a nightmare, any win into a loss.
The notary—an elderly woman with kind eyes—looked up from the paperwork.
“Are you alright? Would you like some water?”
“Thank you, I’m fine. It’s just… my mother-in-law is about to arrive. She wants to be present too.”
The notary frowned.
“But this is your personal inheritance. Legally, your husband’s relatives don’t need to be here.”
“I know. But she… she won’t understand.”
Galina Petrovna came in like a commander stepping onto a battlefield—expensive coat, flawless hair, radiating French perfume and righteous indignation.
Behind her, head lowered, trudged Igor—Valentina’s husband. He looked like a boy being marched to the principal’s office.
“Alright,” Galina Petrovna said, sweeping her gaze over the room as if judging the terrain. “Show me the documents.”
Valentina automatically reached for the folder, but the notary stopped her with a gesture.
“I’m sorry, but I can only show these documents to the heir. This is confidential information.”
Galina Petrovna smiled—the very smile that always sent goosebumps up Valentina’s spine.
“I’m the heir’s husband’s mother. In our family, there are no secrets. Right, Valechka?”
Valechka. Coming from her mother-in-law, the diminutive sounded like an insult—like a reminder of who was in charge.
“Galina Petrovna, this is my inheritance. From my grandmother. You have nothing to do with it.”
“Nothing?” her mother-in-law’s eyebrows lifted. “Interesting, coming from someone who lives in an apartment bought with my money, drives a car I gifted, and raises a child on my support!”
“That’s not your support! That’s Igor’s money!”
“Igor’s?” Galina Petrovna laughed. “Darling, Igor works at his father’s company. A company we built. Every penny he earns is family money. Our money. And if you receive an apartment, then it becomes family property too.”
Valentina looked at her husband, searching for help. But Igor studied the pattern on the carpet as if his life depended on it.
“Igor, say something!”
He lifted his head, and in his eyes she saw the familiar emptiness of someone who had given up long ago.
“Mom, maybe we shouldn’t… It was Vala’s grandmother who left it…”
“We shouldn’t?” Galina Petrovna turned sharply to her son. “When your father registered a share of the business in your name, did I say ‘we shouldn’t’? When we bought you an apartment, did I hesitate? Family is shared. Everything is shared—joys and acquisitions.”
“But it’s my grandmother’s memory!” Valentina felt tears gathering. “She left it to me. To me personally!”
“Memory?” her mother-in-law curled her lip as if she’d heard something indecent. “Let’s be honest. It’s real estate in the city center. At least thirty million. And you want to control that kind of money all by yourself?”
“I’m not going to sell it!”
“You’re not going to today. And tomorrow? And what if you and Igor divorce?”
That “what if” hung in the air like a threat. Valentina knew Galina Petrovna never tossed words around for nothing. If she mentioned divorce, she had already entertained the idea.
“We’re not getting divorced,” Igor muttered, but his voice was uncertain.
“Nobody plans to, sweetheart. Life is unpredictable. And I, as a mother, have to protect your interests.”
The notary cleared her throat.
“Allow me to clarify. The apartment is willed personally to Valentina Sergeyevna. It is her separate property—an inheritance received during marriage, but by law—”
“I know the law perfectly well,” Galina Petrovna cut her off. “But there’s the law, and then there’s family ethics. If Valentina wants to remain part of our family, she needs to understand the rules.”
Rules. Valentina knew them by heart.
Rule number one: Galina Petrovna is always right.
Rule number two: if Galina Petrovna is not right, see rule number one.
Rule number three: any financial decision requires Galina Petrovna’s approval.
In five years of marriage, Valentina had learned them all. She had learned to live by her mother-in-law’s schedule. Sunday lunches at her house—mandatory. Vacations—only to places approved by her. Even their daughter’s name had been chosen by Galina Petrovna: Elizaveta, after her own mother.
“What rules?” Valentina felt anger rising inside her. “The rule where I hand everything over to you? The rule where I’m allowed to have nothing of my own?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” her mother-in-law grimaced. “No one is taking anything from you. We just need to formalize the paperwork properly. So the apartment is registered to both of you—your name and Igor’s. As marital property.”
“But it’s my inheritance!”
“In a family there’s no ‘mine’ and ‘yours.’ There’s only ‘ours.’ Or do you disagree?”
It was a trap. Valentina saw it clearly, but she didn’t know how to step around it. If she agreed, she’d lose the apartment. If she refused, she’d become the selfish one who “didn’t care about the family.”
“I believe my grandmother left the apartment to me. And I intend to honor her wishes.”
“Her wishes?” Galina Petrovna smirked. “Are you sure you even know what her wishes were? Maybe you should explain why your grandmother didn’t speak to your parents for the last ten years. Why she left the apartment to you, and not to them.”
A low blow. Valentina went pale. Yes, her grandmother had had a complicated relationship with her parents. Yes, they hadn’t spoken. But it was a painful family secret—one that was never discussed out loud.
“That’s none of your business!”
“Not my business? But this apartment—with such a questionable history—is about to enter our family. I have a right to know—”
“Enough!” Valentina stood up. “Enough manipulation. Enough blackmail. Enough controlling every step we take!”
Silence fell. Igor shrank into his shoulders. The notary froze with her pen in midair. And Galina Petrovna slowly—very slowly—turned toward her daughter-in-law.
“What did you say?”
“I said enough. For five years I’ve swallowed your humiliations. Five years you’ve decided how I should live, what I should wear, what I should cook, how I should raise my daughter. Five years you’ve turned my life into a branch office of your empire. But this inheritance is mine. Mine. And I won’t let you take it.”
“Igor,” Galina Petrovna said without even looking at Valentina, speaking only to her son, “your wife seems to have forgotten herself. Remind her who pays for your lifestyle.”
Igor stood up—but instead of moving toward his mother, he stepped toward his wife.
“Mom… Vala is right. It’s her inheritance. Her grandmother left it to her.”
Galina Petrovna turned to her son. The cold in her eyes was so sharp it felt like the room’s temperature dropped.
“What did you say?”
“I said the apartment belongs to Vala. And she has the right to do with it as she wants.”
“Is that so,” Galina Petrovna nodded. “So you’re both against me. Wonderful. Then let me remind you: the apartment you live in is in my name. The car, too. The summer house—obviously. And Igor, your position in the company exists only because I convinced your father. Want me to keep going?”
“Mom…”
“Choose, son. Either your wife signs the documents to make it joint property, or the two of you can go find somewhere to live—and something to live on.”
It wasn’t Galina Petrovna’s first ultimatum. But usually Igor gave in. Usually Valentina gave in too.
Not today.
Today something finally snapped—maybe the inheritance papers in her hands, maybe the memory of her grandmother’s voice: “Valyusha, never let anyone take what is rightfully yours.” Or maybe it was simply five years of exhaustion from constant control.
“You know what, Galina Petrovna?” Valentina spoke calmly, even though everything inside her shook. “Take it. Take your apartment, your car, your summer house. Take the job in the company. Take everything you bought and everything you can control. But this apartment—my grandmother’s apartment—you will not get. Never.”
“Do you even understand what you’re saying? You’ll end up on the street—with a child!”
“Better the street than a golden cage under your thumb.”
“Vala…” Igor looked lost. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so harsh…”
“And how should we be, Igor?” Valentina shot back. “Endure another five years? Ten? Until our daughter grows up scared the way you are?”
It was cruel, and she knew it. She was hitting a sore spot. But truth often is cruel.
“Scared?” Igor straightened. “I’m not scared. I’m just…”
“Just what? Just used to Mommy deciding everything for you? Just incapable of taking a step without her approval? Igor, you’re thirty-five. And you’re still a mama’s boy!”
“How dare you!” Galina Petrovna stepped forward, but the notary moved between them.
“That’s enough! This is my office, and I won’t allow scandals here. Either you resolve this calmly, or I will call security!”
Galina Petrovna stopped. She wasn’t used to being told what to do. But causing a scene in a notary’s office could damage her reputation.
“Fine,” she said tightly. “Igor, we’re leaving. And you,” she turned to Valentina, “go ahead and register your precious apartment. But remember: if you step out of our home, you will not come back. Neither you nor my granddaughter.”
Granddaughter. Valentina knew that was her mother-in-law’s strongest card. Four-year-old Liza adored her grandmother. And for all Galina Petrovna’s flaws, she truly loved her granddaughter—in her own possessive way.
“You have no right to forbid me from seeing my daughter!”
“I’m not forbidding anything,” Galina Petrovna replied coolly. “I’m stating a fact. If you leave our family, Liza stays with her father. And the court—believe me—will side with the family that can provide the child with a ‘proper’ life. Not with a single mother in a коммуналка.”
A коммуналка—yes, her grandmother’s place was a communal apartment. Three rooms, one of them belonging to Valentina. Not a palace. But it was hers.
“That’s blackmail!”
“That’s reality, dear. Igor, we’re leaving.”
But Igor didn’t move. He stood there, looking from his mother to his wife, and there was a battle in his eyes—five years of wrestling between love and obligation, between the family he’d built and the family he’d grown up in.
“Igor!” Galina Petrovna’s voice hardened. “I said we’re leaving!”
“No,” he said so quietly that for a moment everyone thought they’d misheard him.
“What?”
“I said no, Mom. I’m not leaving. Vala is right. It’s her inheritance. She has the right to do with it as she wants.”
“You… you’re choosing her?” pain and fury tangled in Galina Petrovna’s voice. “After everything I’ve done for you?”
“Mom, I’m grateful for everything. Truly. But I’m a husband and a father. My place is next to my wife and daughter. Not under your wing—next to them.”
“You’ll regret this!”
“Maybe,” Igor said steadily. “But it will be my regret. My choice. The first choice I’ve ever made for myself.”
That seemed to be the last straw. Galina Petrovna spun and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the glass rattled.
Silence.
Valentina stared at her husband, not quite believing what had just happened. Igor—her eternally hesitant, uncertain Igor—had, for the first time in five years, stood on her side.
“You really did that?” she whispered.
“I did. And I still can’t believe it.”
“But the apartment… the job…”
“I’ll find another job. We’ll rent a place. Vala, I’m a programmer—a good programmer. I just spent the last few years working for Dad’s company and stopped believing in myself. But I’ll manage. We’ll manage.”
Valentina threw her arms around him, crying freely now—tears of relief, joy, pride.
The notary coughed politely.
“So… shall we finalize the inheritance?”
“Yes,” Valentina wiped her cheeks. “We finalize it. In my name.”
“And then?” Igor asked. “It’s a communal apartment. Neighbors…”
“Neighbors are neighbors,” Valentina said, trying to smile. “We’ll live there, meet them. And then we’ll see. Maybe someday we’ll buy out their rooms. When we can afford it. On our own. Without anyone’s help—or control.”
An hour later, they stepped out of the notary’s office. In Valentina’s hands was a folder with her ownership papers. Her ownership. The first thing in her life that belonged only to her.
“You know,” Igor said, “Mom won’t forgive us. She’ll cut us off completely.”
“I know.”
“It’ll be hard for Liza without her grandmother.”
“It will,” Valentina admitted. “But it would be harder for her to grow up watching her father get humiliated and controlled.”
“We’ll have to start from zero.”
“From zero?” Valentina smiled. “We have a roof over our heads. It’s only a room in a коммуналка, but it’s ours. You have a profession. I do too. We have our daughter. And most importantly—we have freedom. Freedom to make decisions, make mistakes, live our own lives. That’s not zero, Igor. That’s a lot.”
Igor’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen—Mom.
“Don’t answer,” Valentina said quietly.
“I won’t,” he replied. “But she won’t stop.”
“She will,” Valentina said. “Sooner or later. When she realizes the blackmail doesn’t work anymore.”
They walked down the autumn street holding hands, like they had in the first days of their relationship. There would be plenty of hardships ahead—job hunting, moving, rebuilding their life. But for the first time in five years, Valentina felt like she could breathe.
That evening, as they gathered their things from Galina Petrovna’s apartment (she wasn’t there—she’d dramatically fled to the country house), Igor found an old photo album in his room. Pictures of him as a little boy with his parents. A happy family—or one that only looked happy.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I only understand it now. Dad didn’t leave because he stopped loving Mom. He left because he couldn’t take her control anymore. I was too small to see it. And Mom convinced me he betrayed us.”
“Maybe you should find him,” Valentina said softly. “Talk to him?”
“Maybe. Once we’re settled. Once Mom calms down a little.”
“She won’t calm down, Igor. People like that don’t change.”
“I know,” he sighed. “But she’s my mother. And I love her—despite everything.”
“I understand. And I’m not asking you to abandon her. Just… don’t let her run your life anymore. Our life.”
“I won’t,” Igor promised. “I swear.”
They spent the night in a hotel. The room in the communal apartment needed repairs, and they also wanted to warn the neighbors about new residents. Liza slept between them, arms flung wide, trusting and peaceful.
“Vala,” Igor whispered in the dark, “thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not giving in. For fighting. For me too. I never would’ve dared.”
“You would have,” Valentina murmured. “Sooner or later. I just sped it up.”
“Do you think we’ll make it?”
“Do we have a choice?” Valentina smiled into the darkness. “Of course we’ll make it. People have started with less. The main thing is—we’re together. And we’re free.”
