“So you tried to seize my apartment and my cash? Too bad I outwitted you, didn’t I, Maxim?”

Elena woke up first, as usual. Maxim was sleeping next to her, arms spread over the blanket. The sun pierced through the thick curtains, illuminating the familiar outlines of the bedroom. Three years ago, she had brought her husband into her home. Now, it sometimes seemed that it was Elena who was living as a guest.

Getting out of bed, Elena went to the kitchen. She turned on the coffee machine and took out her favorite cup. Outside the window, the avenue buzzed with people hurrying to work. And she was facing another day at the office, where every hour brought in good money.

“Len, did you forget about Mom’s request?” came a voice from the bedroom.

Elena froze by the refrigerator. Yesterday, Zinaida Petrovna had called asking for twenty thousand rubles for treatment. For the third time in six months. The previous debts were still hanging in the air.

“What request?” the wife asked, feigning innocence, returning to the room with coffee.

Maxim stretched and yawned.

“Well, you promised to think about it. Mom really needs money for procedures.”

“I promised to think. And I did,” Elena sat on the edge of the bed. “Maxim, your family has borrowed a hundred thousand from us over the year. And not a single kopek was returned.”

“Oh, come on, we’re family!” the husband propped himself on his elbow. “You have enough money; you earn way more.”

That phrase cut her ears sharply. Elena set the cup on the nightstand.

“I’m the one earning,” she said calmly. “And we spend it together. Mostly on your relatives.”

“Here we go again,” Maxim reclined on the pillows. “I’m not forcing you. You agreed to combine our finances. And I didn’t transfer money without your consent.”

Combine. What a pretty word. Only there was really nothing to combine — Maxim’s salary barely covered his own expenses. But they did start spending Elena’s money together.

“All right,” Elena stood up. “But this time, let Mom officially borrow the money. We’ll draw up an IOU.”

“You’re serious?” the husband frowned. “Demand an IOU from your own mother?”

“Very serious. Or no money.”

Maxim was silent, but his face darkened. Elena noticed but decided not to give in. She had conceded too many times already.

The workday at the office dragged slowly. Negotiations, calls, reports. By lunch, fatigue accumulated, unrelated to work. More to the fact that another conversation about money awaited her at home.

Around three o’clock, Elena got ready for a meeting with a client. Leaving the office, she decided to stop by a nearby cafe — she wanted a proper coffee in a calm atmosphere.

The cafe was half empty. Elena ordered a cappuccino and settled in a far corner. A huge plant shielded her, creating an illusion of privacy. She took out her phone and scrolled through the news feed when she noticed a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye.

Maxim was sitting at a table — with a woman.

Elena froze. Her husband was supposed to be at work. At least, he planned to be there in the morning. And she didn’t know the woman next to him. A pretty blonde, about thirty-five, tastefully dressed.

Her heart raced. Elena pressed herself into the back of the chair. From here, their table was clearly visible, but they would hardly notice her.

“Everything’s going according to plan,” Maxim was telling his companion, smirking. “The last stage remains.”

“And she has no idea?” the woman leaned closer.

“Lena? She’s too busy with work. The main thing is not to scare her off now.”

Elena tensed. What were they talking about? And why was her husband discussing her with a stranger?

“Are the documents ready?” the blonde continued.

“Almost. I just need to slip her a couple of papers to sign. I’ll say it’s for the tax office or something else. She won’t read them; she trusts me.”

Elena’s breath caught. What documents? What did these words mean?

“And then?” the woman sipped her cocktail.

“Then it’s simple. A mutual consent divorce. The apartment will be entirely mine. Plus the savings. Altogether — about seven million, at least.”

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

“Three years of patience,” Maxim corrected. “You know how hard it is to pretend to be a loving husband? But the result is worth it.”

Elena grabbed the edge of the chair. The world blurred. So all this time… all the tender words, plans for the future, family life — a lie?

“What about love?” the woman sneered.

“Love for money — that’s all that was between us,” Maxim put his arm around her shoulders.

Elena closed her eyes. She wanted to jump up, run to them, and pour out everything pent up inside. But her legs didn’t obey. Fragments of memories raced through her mind.

How Maxim persuaded her to combine accounts. How he said everything in a family should be shared. He was just brainwashing her. And Elena agreed every time because she believed — they were family.

“When do you plan to finish the act?” the blonde moved away from Maxim.

“Soon. She’ll sign the documents this week, and then it’s just a matter of technique.”

Maxim glanced at his watch.

“I have to go. Dear wife will be back from work soon. Need to play the role of a perfect husband.”

The couple stood. Maxim said something else to his companion, but Elena no longer heard. There was ringing in her ears, and black spots swam before her eyes.

They headed for the exit. Elena watched them leave, then dropped her head into her hands. Three years of life. Three years her husband considered “work.”

The waitress approached with the bill. Elena paid mechanically and went outside. People hurried about their business, some laughed, some talked on the phone. An ordinary day in an ordinary city. And her world had just collapsed.

The next days passed in a fog. Elena worked on autopilot, smiled at colleagues, answered questions. At home, she played the caring wife. Cooked dinners, asked Maxim about work, listened to his stories.

Every word now sounded false. Every smile seemed a mask. Elena seemed to be looking at a stranger pretending to be her husband.

A plan formed in her mind. Clear, thought out, merciless.

By the end of the week, everything was ready.

The money was transferred to a personal account that Maxim could not access. The apartment documents Elena took to her mother. Everything was decided.

Elena sat at the kitchen table, slowly sipping tea. Outside, rain was drizzling; drops ran down the window panes. A typical Saturday morning. Maxim had gone “to friends,” as he explained the day before.

The key clicked in the lock around noon. The front door slammed open.

“Where’s the money?!” Maxim burst into the kitchen, his face twisted. “Elena, where’s the money?! All the savings are gone from the account!”

The wife calmly lifted her eyes. Maxim stood in the middle of the kitchen, disheveled and red with indignation.

“What’s this? You wanted to take my apartment and money?” Elena asked calmly. “Too bad I turned out to be smarter, huh, Maxim?”

The husband froze. Surprise, then fear, showed on his face.

“What are you talking about?” he mumbled uncertainly.

“About your plans. About the documents you intended to slip me for signing. About the divorce you planned after getting half my property,” Elena took a sip of tea. “And about your pretty blonde.”

Maxim turned pale.

“You… you were spying on me?”

“I happened to see. And heard your entire conversation about ‘three years of work’ and ‘naive Lena.’”

“Elena, I can explain everything…”

“Explain?” The wife put her cup on the saucer. “What is there to explain? You married me for money. For three years you pretended to be a loving husband. You planned to deceitfully take half the apartment and savings. Then leave me and go to your mistress.”

“That’s not true!” Maxim stepped forward. “I really loved you… love you!”

“Enough,” Elena laughed. “At the cafe, you said something completely different. ‘Love for money is all that was between us.’ Remember those words?”

Maxim sank into the chair opposite her.

“Lena, give me a chance to fix everything. That woman… she means nothing. And I don’t need the money. Let’s start over.”

“Start over?” Elena stood. “You know, I have a better idea. Let’s finish this. For good.”

“What do you mean?”

“Divorce. And you’ll leave today.”

“But the apartment… the savings… By law, I’m entitled to half!”

“What half?” Elena went to the window. “The apartment was bought before the marriage. Registered only to me. And the savings… they’re gone.”

“What do you mean gone?!”

“Transferred to another account. Only I have access. And it’ll be easy to prove in court that you didn’t put a single ruble into those savings.”

Maxim jumped up.

“You have no right! That’s our joint money!”

“Our?!” Elena turned to him. “Interesting. You earned peanuts! I supported your family! Where was your money then? Why didn’t you spend it on your mother and father?”

“Elena, what are you doing? We’re family!”

“Family?” Steel appeared in her voice. “Family doesn’t plan to rob each other. Family doesn’t count years of marriage as ‘work.’”

Maxim paced the kitchen.

“Fine, I admit — I had bad thoughts. But I changed my mind! I realized I truly love you!”

“Sure. Especially after you found out you’ll get neither the apartment nor the savings!”

“Elena, please…”

“Pack your things,” the wife interrupted. “You must leave by evening.”

“Where will I go?”

“To the blonde. Or to Mom. I don’t care.”

Maxim tried to say something else, but Elena headed to the bedroom. An hour later, he left the apartment with two suitcases.

The divorce went surprisingly fast. Maxim tried to claim property, but all documents were flawless. The apartment — premarital property. Savings — personal. There was practically no shared property.

Zinaida Petrovna called every day demanding explanations. Elena answered politely:

“Your son deceived me. Look for the money with his new girlfriend.”

A month later, it was all over. Elena sat in a travel agency flipping through brochures.

“Italy? Spain?” the manager suggested.

“Bora Bora,” Elena said, pointing to a photo of a lagoon. “Three weeks. The most expensive room.”

For the first time in years, she was spending money only on herself. And the feeling was surprisingly pleasant.