Anna woke up first, as usual. Victor was lying next to her, one arm sprawled across the blanket, mouth slightly open in peaceful sleep. The morning sunlight began to creep through the thick curtains, painting soft gold lines across the familiar contours of their bedroom. Three years ago, she had brought Victor into this home, heart full of love. Now, on some mornings like this one, it almost felt like she was the guest, and he was the master.

With a quiet sigh, Anna slipped out of bed and padded into the kitchen. She turned on the coffee machine and pulled her favorite ceramic mug from the shelf — the blue one with the little chip on the rim. Outside, the street was already alive, the sounds of cars, footsteps, and busy conversations drifting up to her window. A typical Monday. Another day at the office, where she traded her time and energy for a generous paycheck.

“Annie, did you forget what Mom asked?” came Victor’s voice from the bedroom, groggy but insistent.

Anna froze, one hand on the refrigerator handle. Yesterday, Larisa Ivanovna — his mother — had called asking for twenty thousand rubles for some new treatment. It was the third request in just six months. And not once had any of the previous loans been repaid.

“What request?” she replied with mock innocence, strolling back into the bedroom with coffee in hand.

Victor yawned and stretched. “You said you’d think about it. She really needs the money for her procedures.”

“I did think about it,” Anna replied evenly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “And I’ve come to a conclusion. Victor, your family has borrowed over a hundred thousand from us in the past year. Not a single ruble has been returned.”

“Oh, come on — we’re family!” he said, propping himself up on his elbow. “You’re doing fine. You earn way more than I do.”

That line again. Like a dagger with a dull blade. Anna placed the mug carefully on the nightstand.

“Yes, I earn,” she said slowly. “And we spend. Though oddly, most of it seems to go toward your family.”

Victor sighed and leaned back. “Here we go again. I’m not forcing you. You agreed to combine our finances. And I never transferred anything without asking.”

Combine. Such a lovely word. So romantic. But there hadn’t really been much to combine — his salary barely covered his own hobbies. But spending her money? That, they did together.

“Alright,” she stood up, voice firm. “But this time, your mother needs to make it official. We’ll draw up an IOU.”

“Are you serious?” he frowned. “You want my mother to sign a loan agreement?”

“Completely serious. Otherwise — no money.”

Victor said nothing, but his eyes darkened. Anna saw it and felt a twinge of guilt. But she refused to step back. Not this time.

At work, the day dragged like a stone through mud. Meetings, phone calls, endless spreadsheets. But her mind was elsewhere. The tension at home had built up over weeks — months even. She felt it in her chest like pressure from a storm no one wanted to name.

By mid-afternoon, Anna had a meeting with a high-profile client. Beforehand, she stopped by a cozy café down the block, hoping a proper cappuccino might settle her nerves.

The café was quiet, almost meditative. She chose a spot in the corner, hidden partially behind a tall fern. She pulled out her phone to scroll through the news — anything to stop thinking — when something familiar appeared in her peripheral vision.

Victor.

Sitting at a table. With a woman Anna didn’t recognize.

Her stomach dropped. He was supposed to be at work. And this woman — a stylish blonde, mid-thirties — was definitely not from his office.

Victor leaned toward her, grinning. “Everything’s going according to plan,” he said. “Just one final step.”

“She still doesn’t suspect?” the woman asked, amused.

“Anna? She’s completely distracted. Buried in work. The key is to not spook her.”

Anna sat frozen. Her heart thudded so hard she could barely hear. What were they talking about?

“Are the papers ready?” the woman asked.

“Almost. I’ll sneak a few in with other stuff. Tell her it’s for taxes or whatever. She won’t read carefully — she trusts me.”

Anna’s mouth went dry.

“And then?”

“Simple. Mutual divorce. The apartment becomes mine. Plus the savings. Altogether — it’s a solid seven million.”

The blonde laughed. “Not bad for three years of work.”

Victor smirked. “Three years of pretending. Do you know how exhausting it is to act like a devoted husband every day? But hey — worth it.”

Anna's mind reeled. Pretending? Every day?

The woman leaned in. “And what about love?”

Victor chuckled. “I love money. That’s about it.”

Anna gripped the edge of the chair as the world spun around her. She had no idea how long she sat there after they left.

The following days were a blur. She went through the motions, smiled at co-workers, cooked dinner at night, listened to Victor’s stories — lies now, all of them. Her whole marriage had been a façade. She saw it clearly.

And so, she began planning. Not out of revenge, but for survival.

By Friday, everything was in motion. She transferred her savings to a new account. The apartment documents were delivered to her mother’s home for safekeeping. Every loose thread was tied.

That Saturday morning, Anna sipped tea at the kitchen table. Outside, rain traced tiny rivers down the windowpanes. Victor had left early, saying he was meeting friends.

The front door slammed open near noon.

“Where is it?!” Victor stormed into the kitchen, his face red with panic. “Anna! Where’s the money? The savings are gone!”

She looked at him calmly. He was unshaven, disheveled, wild-eyed.

“Oh, the money?” she said evenly. “You mean the savings you were planning to steal after tricking me into signing documents? Sorry, Victor. I turned out to be smarter.”

He froze. Fear flickered across his face.

“What... what are you talking about?”

“About the divorce you discussed with your girlfriend,” she said, sipping her tea. “About the apartment. The fake tax forms. The trust you were counting on.”

“You… followed me?”

“No. I saw you. And I heard everything. Every word of your little performance.”

Victor swallowed. “Anna, I can explain—”

“There’s nothing left to explain. You used me. You acted for three years. And now that your scheme failed, you suddenly 'love' me?”

“That's not true! I— I was confused! But I know now, I truly—”

Anna laughed bitterly. “You said it yourself. ‘Love for money — that’s all there was.’”

He sank into a chair.

“Let me make it up to you. We can start fresh. That woman meant nothing!”

“You want to start over?” Anna stood up. “No. I want to end it. Today.”

“You can’t just kick me out! Legally, I have a right—”

“You have nothing,” she interrupted coldly. “The apartment is premarital. In my name. And the savings — all traceable. You contributed nothing.”

Victor jumped up. “You have no right! That money was ours!”

“Ours?” she turned to face him. “You never paid a bill, Victor. You never even paid for your own mother’s needs.”

“We’re a family!”

“Families don’t con each other.”

Victor started pacing, voice rising, panic leaking into every syllable. “Okay! I had bad thoughts! But I changed! I realized I love you!”

“No, Victor. You realized you wouldn’t get the money. That’s all.”

“Please—”

“Pack your things,” she said. “You’re leaving by tonight.”

“Where will I go?”

“To your mother. Or your mistress. Or both. I’m not your problem anymore.”

Victor stared, speechless. An hour later, he left the apartment with two suitcases.

The divorce moved quickly. He tried to fight it, but the documents were ironclad. The court acknowledged everything was Anna’s sole property. Victor walked away empty-handed.

Larisa Ivanovna called daily, angry and confused. Anna answered kindly:

“Your son betrayed me. Ask him for the money.”

A month later, Anna found herself at a travel agency, flipping through glossy brochures.

“Italy? France? Thailand?” the agent offered.

“Bora Bora,” Anna replied, pointing to a turquoise lagoon. “Three weeks. And I want the best suite.”

For the first time in years, she was spending money only on herself.

And it felt incredible.