What They Deserved

Anna closed the final report and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. The job of financial director in her father’s family-owned conglomerate demanded sharp focus and flawless execution. At thirty-two, she had earned every ounce of her position through hard work, integrity, and quiet ambition.

The office lights dimmed as the building emptied for the day. Anna glanced at the clock, then gathered her things.

“Dad, I’m heading out,” she said, poking her head into her father’s office.

He looked up, tired but smiling. “Say hello to Alexey for me. When are you two coming to the dacha again?”

“We’re planning for the weekend,” Anna replied. “Alexey promised to help with the greenhouse frame.”

He nodded approvingly. “You two are good together.”

Anna smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

---

The drive home took half an hour. She pulled her sleek new car into the private lot and headed upstairs to the spacious three-room apartment she had bought before getting married. High ceilings, large windows, warm finishes—it had become their nest over four years of shared life.

“Lesha, I’m home!” she called out, kicking off her heels.

“In the kitchen!” his voice called back. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Alexey was at the stove, stirring something fragrant. A mid-level manager in a logistics firm, he didn’t make much—but he contributed in other ways. Household chores were shared equally, and they rarely argued. For Anna, his modest income had never been an issue.

“How was your day?” she asked, wrapping her arms around him from behind.

“Same circus,” he said, smiling as he leaned into her. “How about you? Still stuck with the new partners?”

“We’re working through contract terms,” Anna said, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table. “Did your mom call today?”

“She did. Talked about the neighbors, the usual weather complaints.” He set plates in front of them. “Her birthday’s coming up soon, remember?”

“Of course,” Anna nodded. “Sixty. We need something meaningful.”

---

They spent weekends at Anna’s inherited dacha—a small, cozy cottage surrounded by birch trees and lilac bushes. Galina Ivanovna, Alexey’s mother, adored the place.

“Remember last year when we helped her with her dental implants?” Alexey said, slicing bread.

“She still sends me thank-you messages,” Anna replied. “And the trip to Sochi, the apartment repairs… it was all worth it. She deserves comfort.”

Galina Ivanovna had always treated Anna with warmth. She called her “daughter,” respected boundaries, and never overstepped. Anna had often thought herself lucky to have married into a family so kind.

“What about jewelry for her birthday?” Alexey asked as he cleared the table.

“I thought about that,” Anna said thoughtfully. “But I want something that lasts. Something she can build memories around.”

---

In the following days, Anna mulled it over. A spa voucher? No—too impersonal. New appliances? She had everything already. Then, while scrolling listings during a lunch break, it came to her.

“Dad, what do you think about gifting Galina Ivanovna a dacha?” she asked over sandwiches in his office.

He looked at her with interest. “Like, buying her a country place?”

“She’s always wanted her own vegetable garden. A small plot, a neat house—something simple but hers.”

Her father nodded slowly. “Smart idea. Look in the suburbs—close, safe, and manageable.”

---

Anna spent evenings combing through listings. Most were wrong—too far, too large, or too derelict. But one caught her eye.

“Suburban area, twenty-minute drive,” the realtor explained. “Cozy little house, fruit trees, solid structure. Six hundred square meters.”

She studied the photos: clean yard, white fence, sunlit kitchen.

“How much?” she asked.

“Two and a half million,” he said. “Owners are relocating—very motivated to sell.”

Anna snapped a few screenshots and called her father to discuss. He approved.

That evening, she dialed Alexey, heart light and excited.

---

“Lesha, guess what?” she beamed. “I found the perfect gift for your mom—a dacha! Just outside the city, cozy and full of potential.”

“You’re serious?” he sounded thrilled. “She’ll go crazy with joy! She’s always wanted to grow her own tomatoes.”

“They’re asking two and a half million,” Anna said. “But it’s worth every ruble.”

“You’re incredible,” he said warmly. “She’ll remember this forever.”

Anna smiled, heart full. This—this—was why she gave. To make people feel loved.

“I have to run,” he added. “Let’s talk more over dinner.”

As she was about to hang up, the line didn’t disconnect.

Then she heard it.

---

“Leshenka, are you done chatting with that rich girl?” Galina Ivanovna’s voice snapped from the speaker, sharp and resentful.

Anna froze, phone still in her hand.

“Yes, Mom,” Alexey sighed. “She started talking about gifts again. Always flashing her money like it’s some noble act.”

“I’m tired of her charity,” Galina said bitterly. “I feel like a beggar in my own family. She keeps reminding us who pays the bills.”

Anna’s knees buckled. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Don’t worry,” Alexey replied. “It won’t last forever. Remember the lawyer I mentioned? There are ways to get her to transfer the property.”

“What ways?” Galina asked eagerly.

“I’ll sneak papers into her usual contracts,” he said. “She trusts me. She’ll sign without reading.”

Anna felt the phone slip slightly in her hand. Her stomach twisted.

“And then?” Galina pressed.

“Then we squeeze her for more. Family emergencies. Treatment abroad, maybe. Once we have enough, I’ll file for divorce and go after her savings.”

“You’re my smart boy,” Galina said proudly. “Just don’t rush. Keep her comfortable until we’ve drained her dry.”

Anna ended the call in silence.

And the silence stayed with her.

---

That night, Alexey came home humming, oblivious.

“Anya, sunshine, I’m home!” he called. “Did you check out the dacha?”

She was waiting in the kitchen, arms crossed. On the table: a neat stack of documents.

“What's this?” he asked, flipping the top sheet. His smile vanished.

“Divorce papers,” Anna replied calmly.

Alexey blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You forgot to end your call,” she said, her voice like steel. “I heard everything. You and your mother.”

He hesitated—then straightened. “You misunderstood—”

“Faking illness? Hidden contracts? Emptying my accounts?” Anna interrupted. “Explain that.”

“Anya, please. It was just a conversation. Nonsense. You know how Mom talks—”

“No,” she cut in. “I know how you talk. And I know how you lie.”

He reached for her hand. “We’re family.”

“No,” Anna said. “Family doesn’t plot betrayal.”

She stepped back.

“You have one hour to leave. The apartment is mine—bought before marriage. You have no claim here.”

His face darkened. “You think you can just throw me out? I’ll take half your assets in court!”

“Try it,” she said. “Every asset is protected, tied to corporate accounts, trusts, and dated documents. You’ll get nothing. Just like you gave me.”

He stared at her, speechless.

An hour later, he left with a suitcase and a bruised ego.

---

The divorce was swift. He walked away with a token sum.

A month later, Galina Ivanovna arrived at her door, face wet with tears.

“Anya, please,” she begged. “I didn’t mean what I said. It was all Alexey’s idea. I love you like a daughter.”

Anna opened the door just enough to be heard.

“You love me?” she asked quietly. “You planned to fake cancer for money.”

Galina sobbed. “Please… don’t cut me off. We were family.”

“No,” Anna said, eyes cold. “You don’t betray family.”

She closed the door.

---

The next morning, Anna changed her phone number. Blocked every number linked to her ex-husband’s family. The silence that followed was peaceful.

Galina Ivanovna lost her financial lifeline.

Alexey, now living in a rented room, tried reaching out through mutual friends. None succeeded.

Anna kept building.

She focused on her business, on her father, on the quiet joy of walking through life without liars at her side. The scars were deep—but clean. And they reminded her:

Love is trust. And trust is earned, not assumed.