Natalya reluctantly walked home—after all, at home she was awaited by her eternally dissatisfied mother-in-law and her disabled husband, whom Natalya cared for. But as soon as she entered the house, she froze, overhearing their conversation! Their words sent chills down her spine…

Natalya Alekseeva glanced tiredly at the clock and sighed hopelessly, as the end of her work shift was approaching. Lately, work had been her salvation from family problems, and even her students, who once again hadn’t done their homework and misbehaved in class, brought her more joy than her husband and his mother. Every day, Natalya tried to keep herself busy with something, just to stay at work a little longer.

Today, too, she decided to tidy up the paperwork. Natalya had been working as a piano teacher at the children’s school of arts for over five years, and she was very responsible about her job. Both in teaching and in paperwork, Natalya maintained perfect order.

She had always liked her work, and lately, even more so. Her work was interrupted by a phone call. Looking at the display, Natalya involuntarily grimaced.

It was her husband, Pyotr, calling. Yes, she answered. “Where have you disappeared to?” he asked in a displeased tone, instead of greeting her.

“At work,” Natalya tried to speak calmly. In reality, she wanted to scream from the hopelessness she had been trapped in for over half a year. “Why are you still at work?” Pyotr raised his voice.

“You should already be at the store to buy groceries. I’m sitting here hungry, by the way.” “I cooked a whole pot of borscht this morning,” Natalya sighed, though she knew perfectly well that there was nothing left of the soup but memories. “Are you kidding me?” the man was angry. Natalya knew exactly what that meant.

She would have to listen all evening to how ungrateful a wife she was. After all, it was her fault that her husband ended up in a wheelchair. Six months ago, Natalya had asked her husband to meet her after work.

It was winter outside, and it was insanely cold. “Petya, please,” the young woman pleaded. “Before work, I ran into the store and bought two bags of groceries.”

“And it’s cold outside.” “And what do you want from me?” the man asked in a displeased tone. “Meet me,” Natalya requested.

Of course, she could have called a taxi, but she wanted her husband to show her some care. “Seriously?” Pyotr protested. “You’re asking me to go out in this cold just because you didn’t think ahead?” “But I bought us all sorts of treats for the table,” the woman replied, pleased with herself. “Please.” “Fine,” the man gritted through his teeth.

After work, the woman waited for her husband at the entrance, but he didn’t show up. Natalya kept calling his cell phone until the subscriber was out of range.

She had to call a taxi to get home. She barely made it up to the seventh floor, dragging heavy bags, because the elevator was out of order again. Cursing herself, Natalya entered the apartment, hoping that Pyotr hadn’t come to pick her up and wasn’t answering her calls just because he was angry with her.

But the apartment greeted her with silence and darkness. “Petya, are you home?” Natalya called out. But no one answered.

She walked through the rooms, hoping her husband had just fallen asleep and didn’t hear her, but Pyotr was nowhere to be found. “Strange,” the woman said to herself. That had never happened before.

Natalya dialed her husband’s number again, but the subscriber was still out of range. The woman decided to call her mother-in-law, Larisa Ivanovna, with whom relations were bad. From the very first day, the older woman had disliked Natalya.

Pyotr’s mother had dreamed that her son would marry his ex-girlfriend Alyona—a smart, beautiful, and in-demand hairdresser. But Pyotr chose the plain pianist, which greatly angered his mother.

Sighing, Natalya dialed her mother-in-law’s number. “Hello, Larisa Ivanovna, good evening.” “So you showed up,” the woman hissed into the phone.

“How does the earth even bear people like you?” “What happened?” Natalya was taken aback by her mother-in-law’s words. Yes, she knew perfectly well that Larisa Ivanovna didn’t like her. But the older woman had never said such things before.

“You still have the nerve to ask what’s going on?” Larisa Ivanovna seemed about to choke with rage. “I don’t understand,” the young woman said, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

She realized something terrible had happened to Pyotr. “My son ended up in an accident because of you!” the woman’s anger knew no bounds.

“What do you mean, an accident?” It was as if Natalya had been struck with a heavy object. Her head buzzed. “What happened to Petya?” “It’s bad!” Larisa Ivanovna screamed.

“Petya will remain disabled forever. And it’s all your fault.” “Where is my husband?” the woman asked quietly.

“In the hospital.” Not knowing what she was doing, Natalya rushed to the hospital. After talking to the doctors, she learned that her husband had a spinal injury.

He needed expensive rehabilitation, or he might remain permanently in a wheelchair. But Pyotr, one could say, got off lightly. The real culprit of the accident was less fortunate.

He was in intensive care, and it was unclear if he would survive. At first, Natalya took on all the care for her husband. She took a leave of absence from the art school and cared for Pyotr, fulfilling his every whim.

Gradually, the man started to go overboard with his demands. And if Natalya refused to do anything, Pyotr would quickly remind her whose fault it was that he ended up on that road. “If it weren’t for your empty head, I’d be healthy now,” the man reproached Natalya.

“So if I say I want Peking duck, you should make it for me.” “We don’t have extra money,” Natalya reminded him yet again. “Our savings have run out, so I need to go back to work.”

“And who will take care of me?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow. “Petya, I can’t split myself in two. I can’t both care for you and earn money,” the woman gently objected.

She was afraid to say anything against her husband, so as not to provoke another outburst of anger. “I’ve thought of something,” Pyotr said, squinting his eyes. “What?” Natalya asked with interest.

“We need to move in with my mother.” The man was proud of himself for coming up with a solution to their situation. “While you work, Mom will help me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the woman said doubtfully. She knew perfectly well that her peaceful life would end the moment she set foot in her mother-in-law’s house. “You should have thought of that earlier, when you asked me to meet you in such cold weather,” Pyotr snapped.

“So our move is a done deal.” “What about my apartment?” Natalya sighed heavily. “We’ll rent it out,” the man shrugged. “An extra penny won’t hurt. Actually, we should sell it and use the money for my rehabilitation.”

“But you’re against that?” Pyotr said sarcastically. “It’s your grandmother’s memory, but I don’t matter.” “I do care, but I won’t sell the apartment,” Natalya said firmly.

It really was important to her to keep what her grandmother had left her—this apartment. “So we’re moving in with Mom,” Pyotr banged on the table. Since then, Natalya’s life turned into hell.

She became a free housemaid in her mother-in-law’s apartment. The woman cleaned, cooked, washed, ironed, and still went to work. And due to lack of money, she started tutoring.

Of course, Larisa Ivanovna wasn’t happy about that, since Natalya spent less time doing housework. But Pyotr was happy, since Natalya was the only one bringing money into the house. She paid the utilities, bought groceries, and necessary medicines for both Larisa Ivanovna and Pyotr.

Pyotr’s older brother, Mikhail, also lived with them, but he didn’t contribute financially. All the money Mikhail earned he spent on himself. When Natalya tried to hint that Mikhail should at least help with groceries and utilities, she was quickly put in her place—not to meddle in things that didn’t concern her.

It wasn’t her business. With each day, life in her mother-in-law’s apartment became unbearable. But Natalya’s conscience wouldn’t let her just leave, so she found the only way out—staying late at work as long as possible.

“So,” Pyotr said in a commanding tone, “you’ll go to the store and buy red caviar.”
“But I don’t have any money,” Natalya tried to object. “Payday is only in a week.”
“Of course! Who cares what I want?” Pyotr asked in an offended tone. “If I could walk, I wouldn’t be begging you for money for every little thing.”
“Little thing?” Natalya’s eyes widened. “Since when is red caviar a little thing? And what about its price?”
“Don’t nitpick my words,” Pyotr waved his hand. “If you don’t want to make your husband happy, just say so.” But he didn’t listen to his wife and hung up.

Natalya sighed heavily. She’d have to cut corners somewhere and buy the caviar, otherwise, she’d face endless nagging—not just from Pyotr, but also from Larisa Ivanovna.

She got up from the table, grabbed her purse, and headed out. Stepping outside, Natalya smiled. She loved summer for its colors and warmth.

Turning around, she saw the person who had turned her life into hell. Natalya looked at the man with dislike. God, how she hated this person who had ruined her life.

She was surrounded by utter misery. Sometimes, Natalya thought about just leaving everything behind and walking away. Let them say what they want, but then her conscience would wake up and not let her abandon her disabled husband.

She knew she’d never forgive herself if she did. She would have continued caring for her husband, if not for his constant whims.
“What do you want?” Natalya asked, her voice hostile.

“I want to talk to you,” the stranger said. “You probably already guessed who I am.”
“I’ll remember you for the rest of my life, and we have nothing to talk about,” Natalya replied firmly. The last thing she wanted was to talk to this man. She turned and walked the other way, but he overtook her and blocked her path.

“Natalya, please listen to me,” he pleaded. “It’s very important to me. I think it’s important for you, too.”
“Really?” Natalya raised an eyebrow. “And how is your information important for me? I need help from you, not information.”

The man was embarrassed. “By the way, my name is Yegor.”
“And what help am I supposed to give you?” Natalya was starting to get angry.

It had been more than half a year already. “You’d better talk to my husband.”
“He’s the last person I need to talk to,” Yegor shook his head. “Can you spare me 10–15 minutes?”
“Actually, I really need to get home,” Natalya said doubtfully, glancing at her watch.

“Please, it’s very important.” The man looked at her imploringly.

“Fine,” Natalya agreed reluctantly, immediately scolding herself for being so soft-hearted.

What did this man want from her?
“Let’s sit on the bench near the school.” Without waiting for an answer, Natalya headed for the benches under the big trees. She put her purse beside her.

“I’m listening,” Natalya said, sitting down and leaning back, looking at her companion.
“As you may have guessed, I’m the other party in the accident that injured your husband,” the man said, staring into the distance. “Only he, you could say, got off lightly compared to me.”

“Lightly?” Natalya protested. “Petya has been in a wheelchair for six months already, but you look like you’ve recovered. You’re walking on two legs, not even limping.”

“I’ve got plenty of other ailments,” Yegor smiled wryly. “But I’m not here to talk about those. That’s not why I came.”

“Then why?” Natalya was growing tired of the pointless conversation.
“When I came to in the hospital, I was told some very unpleasant news,” Yegor sighed. He still couldn’t recall those events—the accident and its aftermath—calmly.

“The thing is, you testified that I was at fault in that accident.”
“And what was so unpleasant for you?” Natalya dared to look at him.
“I know I’m not guilty,” he said, his tone firm and brooking no argument.

“That day there was a blizzard, and I was driving at 40 km/h, so at the collision, I couldn’t have damaged the cars so badly—just like your husband.”
“I don’t understand,” Natalya frowned. “What does Pyotr have to do with it?”
“Your husband claims he was driving at exactly the same speed. Do you understand?” Yegor asked hopefully.

“If we were both driving at the same speed—40 km/h—the consequences would not have been so severe.”
“Oh God!” gasped Natalya. She knew her husband loved speeding. He’d even been fined several times for it. Of course, there would have been more fines if Pyotr’s close friend Slavik, a traffic cop, hadn’t covered for him a few times.

Suddenly, Natalya remembered that Slavik had been the one to respond to the accident that day. He was the one who drew up the accident report.

“You’re saying Pyotr was driving much faster than the report states?”
“Yes,” Yegor nodded. “And I’ll tell you more: your husband ran a red light.”

“I don’t believe you,” Natalya was shocked. “How could that be? Even though he loves to drive fast, Pyotr is a careful driver. My husband would never run a red light in his right mind.”

“The thing is, Pyotr wasn’t sober,” Yegor sighed.
“But the test showed otherwise,” Natalya insisted.

“You know very well that having a close friend in the traffic police can turn a situation upside down,” Yegor started to get angry, though he’d promised himself to stay calm. “Your husband’s friend tried to make it look like I was the one driving drunk. And he would have succeeded if not for my sister Katya, who arrived at the accident almost at the same time as the police. She’s a lawyer and oversaw the whole process.”

“What do you want from me?” Natalya, stunned by what she’d heard, asked.
“My dashcam disappeared—the one with the accident recorded on it.”

Yegor looked at Natalya. She was his only hope. For what he hadn’t done, he could end up actually serving time and paying large sums in damages.

“Could you look for it at your place? It’s the only proof of my innocence.”
“You think my husband would keep evidence against himself?” Natalya asked reasonably.

“If things are as you say, I doubt Pyotr would keep proof of his own guilt.”
“I understand that,” Yegor tried to persuade her. “But sometimes people do keep things for no reason. Maybe Pyotr kept the dashcam’s memory card?”

“Yegor, I’d be happy to help you,” Natalya said with pity. Suddenly, she realized this could be her way out. “But we’re not living at home now—we’re at my mother-in-law’s. I have no idea where to look for the dashcam, let alone the memory card, in her apartment. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Natalya, just try, please,” the man pleaded.

“All right,” Natalya promised. “I’ll call you for sure.” They exchanged phone numbers.

Natalya hurried home. She saw a light at the end of the tunnel. She walked home, vowing to herself that if there was evidence of Pyotr’s guilt, she would find it.

Maybe her husband would be punished to the full extent of the law, but she no longer cared. Suddenly, Natalya realized she no longer loved her husband, and she would gladly leave him right now—but first, she needed to find the dashcam from the accident. Well, she could endure a couple more weeks.

Natalya entered the apartment in high spirits. She had a new purpose in life. To be honest, she should have sent her husband and his mother to hell long ago. Why had she put up with all the abuse from Pyotr and Larisa Ivanovna for so long? Just look at her!

As she stepped into the hallway, her mother-in-law hissed at her, “Look who finally showed up! Took your time, didn’t you?”
“And good evening to you too!” Natalya replied with a smile.

She decided to stop paying attention to the old woman’s antics.
“Where have you been?” Larisa Ivanovna wouldn’t let up.
“At work,” Natalya replied cheerfully.

“At your precious work?”
At that moment, Pyotr rolled into the hallway in his wheelchair, as dissatisfied as ever.
“Did you buy the caviar?” he grumbled.
“No,” Natalya shook her head. To be honest, she’d completely forgotten about it.

“You worthless thing!” Larisa Ivanovna shrieked. “For once your husband asks you for something!”
“And you?”
“What about me?” Larisa Ivanovna raised an eyebrow.
“You didn’t buy it?” Natalya tried to keep her composure, remembering she needed to find the dashcam.
“Maybe because I don’t have extra money? Did that ever occur to you?”
“Well, you did some tutoring yesterday,” Pyotr reminded her.
“So?” Natalya shrugged. “That money went to pay for the internet. You sit at the computer all day.”

“Are you going to blame me for that now?” Pyotr snapped. “If it weren’t for you—”
“I know, I know,” Natalya interrupted sharply. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be alive and healthy. But let me remind you, I wasn’t the one driving the car—you were. So the responsibility for the accident is yours.”

“And who asked Petenka to pick you up?” Larisa Ivanovna pressed on.
“I did,” Natalya smiled. “But only because I’d bought a bunch of stuff for the New Year’s table. We wanted to go shopping together on the weekend.”

“They say initiative punishes the initiator.”
“Oh, so that’s how you talk now,” the old woman hissed. “Since when did you get so bold? And I saw her this evening with a man near her school,” said Pyotr’s older brother, Mikhail, who’d come out of his room. “She was chatting with him so sweetly. Like lovebirds.”

“Do you know who it was?” Pyotr asked, watching his wife closely. He thought he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. But Natalya quickly composed herself.

“No, I don’t,” Mikhail shook his head. “I saw him from behind.”
“You little snake,” Larisa Ivanovna jabbed a finger at Natalya’s chest.
“I’d advise you not to do that again,” Natalya warned.
“You’re threatening me? In my own house?” the old woman was shocked. “You crippled your husband and now you’ve got a lover?”

“Yes,” Natalya replied calmly. “First, your son got himself into this state. Second, he was the one driving. And as for that man—he’s the father of one of my students, who came to ask about his son’s progress. Any more questions?”

“Not for now,” Larisa Ivanovna shook her head, taken aback by her daughter-in-law’s newfound courage.
“In that case, I’m going to shower and rest,” Natalya said, amazed at her own boldness. She headed to the bathroom, leaving her relatives staring after her in shock.

“And one more thing,” she said, turning back, “if I hear one more reproach from any of you, I’ll leave this apartment for good. And I’ll take all your financial support with me. Understood?”
“Yes,” Pyotr nodded.

Pleased with herself, Natalya locked herself in the bathroom. She began searching the shelves for the dashcam or memory card. But unfortunately, she found nothing.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” she told herself, looking at her reflection. “Alright, I’ll keep searching.” After her shower, Natalya came out.

“You need to put her in her place,” Larisa Ivanovna whispered. “Or we’ll never have peace.”
“Mama, what am I supposed to do?” Pyotr shrugged. “If I put pressure on her, she’ll really pack up and leave. Then what will we live on?”

“Don’t count on me,” said Mikhail. “I’m not going to support you.”
“See?” Larisa Ivanovna sighed. “Petenka, we have to do something.”
“Calm down,” Pyotr snapped. “Natasha will cool off and things will go back to normal.”

“What if she found out the truth?” The old woman was terrified.
“Keep your voice down,” Pyotr hushed her. “Even if she doesn’t know, she’ll figure out we’re hiding something if she hears you.”

Natalya pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath so as not to give herself away. She listened carefully to what her relatives would say next.

“By the way, Mama, did you hide what I gave you securely?” Pyotr asked.
“You already asked me that,” Larisa replied irritably. “I told you yes, stop asking all the time.”

“Natasha won’t stumble upon it by accident, will she?” Pyotr pressed.
“What would she be doing in my room?” the old woman wondered. “And even if she did, she wouldn’t find anything.”

“Good,” Pyotr relaxed, then sighed.
“Damn, I’m starving!”
“Your wife will be out of the shower soon—tell her,” Mikhail smirked. “She lives here at our expense and still acts up.”
“Stay out of my marriage,” Pyotr retorted. “Get married yourself, then boss your wife around.”

“Petenka’s right,” Larisa Ivanovna sided with her younger son. “If Natasha really rebels and leaves, what will we live on?”
“You have your pension,” Mikhail snorted.
“And Petya can get disability,”
“Stop mocking me,” Pyotr snapped. “You know very well I can’t get any benefits.”

“Why not?” Natalya wondered. “This is getting more and more interesting.”
“I can’t spend my pension right now,” Larisa Ivanovna explained. “I’m saving for a trip to Europe.”

“Unbelievable!” Natalya thought indignantly. “I’m carrying Pyotr and his crazy family out of guilt, and here’s the truth: my husband can’t get disability, my mother-in-law is saving for Europe, and Mikhail just won’t pitch in.”

Natalya sighed. “What a fool I am!” She walked to the bathroom door, opened it, then slammed it shut again, pretending she’d just come out of the shower. Passing her mother-in-law’s room, she glanced at her husband and his relatives.

“I’m going to bed. Tomorrow, besides work, I have two lessons,” she said. “So I need to rest. I hope tonight will be relatively quiet.”

“Of course, of course!” Larisa Ivanovna agreed. Natalya entered the room she shared with her husband. In truth, she wanted to lock the door and not let Pyotr in. But she couldn’t do that. Not yet. When she finally learned what her husband was hiding, then she would say and do everything she wanted.

Left alone, Natalya began to think how she could be alone in the apartment. Then she could search Larisa Ivanovna’s room for the dashcam or memory card. At least, Natalya hoped that’s what Pyotr and his mother were talking about.

Natalya couldn’t sleep for a long time. She wondered why her husband couldn’t qualify for disability, and why she hadn’t thought of it earlier. What was wrong with her lately? Getting up early, she quickly showered and left for work, skipping breakfast. The last thing she wanted was to see her husband and his family. To get rid of the Alekseevs, she had to find the dashcam or memory card.

Of course, Natalya could have ignored Yegor and filed for divorce. But then she’d lose the chance to find evidence against Pyotr. She couldn’t do that. She wanted to find out why her husband was lying to her.

Arriving at work, Natalya immediately went to the violin teacher Anastasia’s office—her close friend for over thirteen years.
“Hey, friend,” Natalya smiled when she saw her. Anastasia was her lifeline.

Her friend always listened, gave advice, and supported her.
“Hi,” Nastya was glad to see her. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Natalya nodded.

She really needed a sip of hot coffee. Not having breakfast at home, she’d stopped by the store for her favorite pastries.
“Natalya, are you okay?” Nastya asked, concerned.

“Not really,” Natalya sighed. She needed to share what was happening, but was afraid Nastya would judge her for being weak. Her friend always scolded her for letting her husband and his family walk all over her.

“Don’t you see they’re using you?” Nastya would say. “Blatantly and shamelessly.”
“I know, I just feel guilty about what happened to Petya. It’s my punishment.”

“Sorry, but I don’t understand you,” Nastya would end the conversation, knowing she couldn’t change her friend’s mind. Someday, she thought, Natalya would realize how wrong she’d been to blame herself.

But today was different. Natalya realized she had been wrong.

“Nastya, I have so much to tell you,” Natalya said.
“I’m listening,” Nastya replied, setting two mugs of coffee on the table. Natalya told her everything that had happened in the last day. Her friend listened attentively, sipping her coffee.

“And now I have no idea where to look for the dashcam, or why my husband can’t get disability,” Natalya finished.
“As for your husband, I have a theory,” Nastya said thoughtfully.
“What is it?” Natalya asked.

“I think he’s been fully recovered for a long time. He can walk just fine.”
“If that’s true, why is he pretending?” Natalya had never thought of that.

“There could be many reasons,” Nastya shrugged. “Remember before the accident, Petya complained he didn’t like his job and wanted to quit?”
“Yes, I remember,” Natalya said, frowning. “We fought about it because in three years of marriage, Petya had already changed jobs seven times.”

“You pressured him, and he stayed,” Nastya nodded. “So now, Petya can finally quit the job he hated and mooch off you.”
“Oh my God, I’m such a fool,” Natalya whispered.

When Pyotr quit, it never occurred to her that he’d done it voluntarily—he told her they fired him because they didn’t want a disabled employee.

“Natalya, stop blaming yourself,” Nastya said, taking her friend’s hand. “You had other things on your mind. The Alekseevs took advantage of that. I’m glad you’ve realized it.”

“I never thought I’d thank Yegor for anything,” Natalya chuckled. “I blamed him for everything, but now…”
“Once you find the dashcam for him, you’ll be even,” Nastya smiled. She was glad her friend finally saw her husband’s true colors. Lately, she’d been very worried about Natalya.

“If only I knew where to look for it,” Natalya sighed. “And as I understand it, it’s in my mother-in-law’s room, and she’s always home.”

“We need to figure out a way to get her and Pyotr out of the house,” Nastya mused. “At least Mikhail is at work during the day—less trouble with him.”

“That’s true,” Natalya shuddered at the thought of her brother-in-law. She didn’t like Mikhail. Lately, she’d noticed he looked at her strangely.

“Alright, let’s get to work,” Nastya sighed. “We have an evaluation coming up.”
“Right,” Natalya had completely forgotten about the need to prepare for her qualification review. Family problems had swept her away.

By the end of the workday, Natalya sighed in exhaustion. She had been productive today, and she was glad for it. Thanks to her work, she barely thought about Pyotr or his mother at all.

Unexpectedly, Nastya entered her office, looking pleased.
“Natalya, look what I have!” she said, triumphantly handing her friend some papers.

“What’s this?” Natalya was confused.
“Two tickets to a country resort for two days,” Nastya announced ceremoniously. “For your husband and his mother.”

“Where did you get these?” Natalya was stunned.
“Where I got them, there aren’t any more,” Nastya grinned. She was happy to help her friend.

“But that’s so expensive,” Natalya whispered. “I don’t have the money to pay you back.”
“Pay me when you can,” Nastya waved her off. “And anyway, it’s my gift to you.”

“I can’t accept this,” Natalya protested.
“Come on, you know for our family this isn’t a big deal,” Nastya said firmly. “When I told Kirill about your problems, he solved them right away.”

“You involved your husband?” Natalya felt ashamed that another woman’s husband was solving her problems.
“Stop it,” Nastya advised. “You know Kirill only truly respects you out of all my friends. If not for you, I never would have gotten out of that mess I was in as a teenager. Kirill is grateful to you for his wife and now supports you in every way.”

“Thank your husband for me,” Natalya said with gratitude, nearly tearing up. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“It’s nothing,” Nastya smiled, hugging her. “If not for you, I wouldn’t have Kirill or our little Olesya. I owe you for life.”

Natalya was truly grateful. Now she just had to wait for Pyotr and Larisa Ivanovna to leave for the resort. Then she and Nastya could turn the mother-in-law’s room upside down and find proof of Pyotr’s guilt.

Saturday arrived. Natalya was eagerly awaiting the moment Larisa Ivanovna and Pyotr would leave for the resort so she and Nastya could start searching for evidence against Pyotr.

“Listen carefully,” Larisa Ivanovna said in a lecturing tone as she stood by the taxi. “While we’re gone, do a thorough cleaning. But don’t go into my room.”

“How am I supposed to clean, then?” Natalya asked, feigning innocence.

In reality, she had no intention of doing any housework. Even if she didn’t find any evidence against Pyotr, she was done being a servant to his family. She already brought in all the money; that was enough.

“I know you, butterfingers,” Larisa Ivanovna waved her off. “You’ll just ruin my things. You haven’t learned anything in life except banging on your piano. What did your grandmother even teach you?”

“Don’t you dare speak badly about my grandmother, even in your thoughts,” Natalya warned.

She was ready to tear anyone apart for her grandmother, Maria Yegorovna. Natalya’s parents had been geologists. On their last expedition, they brought her a big doll, which she still kept to this day. Natalya remembered her parents’ last visit, her mother spinning in a pretty dress, her father looking at her with loving eyes. She never saw her parents alive again.

One night, the phone rang, her grandmother answered, screamed, and then cried for a long time. Natalya tried to comfort her, not understanding what was happening. Only two years later did she find out her parents had died in a car accident after a wedding.

Since then, Maria Yegorovna raised her granddaughter, instilling only the best values. Maybe that’s why Natalya believed in people and tried to help them. But after realizing her husband’s family was using her, she understood that sometimes you had to show your teeth.

“Why are you so riled up?” Larisa Ivanovna muttered, stepping away from her daughter-in-law just in case.
“Alright, we’re leaving,” Pyotr grumbled. He didn’t want to go to the resort at all—he had other plans for the weekend. He was supposed to tell his wife he was going fishing with a friend, but really he was going to another city with his ex-girlfriend Alyona.

Since the accident, Alyona had become a frequent guest at the Alekseevs’ home. Natalya didn’t like it, but Larisa Ivanovna quickly put her in her place, saying Alyona was her guest, and who came to visit the mistress was none of Natalya’s business.

At first, Pyotr and Alyona just talked, but gradually emotions took over, and their affair rekindled. If at first this arrangement suited Alyona, lately she’d started demanding Pyotr leave Natalya. She was tired of being second, but Pyotr wasn’t in a hurry—Alyona knew the truth about his health, and if he left Natalya, he’d have to find a job, but he liked living at his wife’s expense.

Mikhail helped Pyotr into the car, then left without a word. That suited Natalya perfectly. After seeing her husband and mother-in-law off, she returned to the apartment and called her friend.

“Hello, Nastya? All good. The apartment is ours.”
“I’ll be right there,” Nastya replied.

Natalya went to the kitchen to put on the kettle. Her hands trembled a little—if she and Nastya were lucky, she’d finally be free of the Alekseevs.

Deciding not to wait, Natalya grabbed the vacuum and headed for her mother-in-law’s room. She would break the ban and start looking for the dashcam. In the room, she looked around.

“Where to start?” she muttered. She opened the wardrobe and looked at the shelves—this would not be easy.

She closed it and moved toward the window, setting the vacuum aside.
“What are you doing here?” came a voice behind her.

Natalya turned pale with fright. Turning around, she saw Mikhail standing in the doorway.
“I’m cleaning,” she stammered.

Lost in thought, she hadn’t heard him enter.
“Mom told you not to touch her room,” he reminded her, stepping inside, eyes fixed on her.

“Right, I totally forgot,” she slapped her forehead. “I’ll go clean our room instead.”
“No,” Mikhail shook his head.

“I’ve waited too long for this moment to let it slip now. No way.”
Natalya looked at her brother-in-law in fear, not knowing what he wanted.

She tried to leave, taking the vacuum and heading for the door.
“And where do you think you’re going?” he asked quietly, blocking her path.

His gaze was intense, unblinking.
“To my room,” Natalya stammered, already cursing herself for not waiting for Nastya—Mikhail wouldn’t dare bother her if Nastya was there.

“Your room?” Mikhail sneered. “There’s nothing of yours here anymore. You live here only because Petya wants it. No one asked me.”

“Take it up with Pyotr,” Natalya blurted, holding the vacuum in front of her like a shield.

“Why do I need my brother when I have you? You know everything in life comes at a price.” Mikhail was playing with her like a cat with a mouse, enjoying the fear in her eyes. He’d wanted his brother’s wife for a while, but never had the chance—now was the perfect time.

If Natalya told anyone, he’d just say she came onto him.
“What do you want from me?” she tried to play dumb, hoping Nastya would arrive any minute.

“What do you think?” Mikhail stroked Natalya’s face. She recoiled in disgust.

“Don’t be stupid! I’ll tell your brother everything!” she threatened, backing away as Mikhail approached.

“The more you back away, the less chance you have of escaping,” he said, closing in.
“Seriously?” Natalya nodded. “We love each other.”

“Oh, you’re such a fool!” Mikhail laughed. “He only needs you as a free servant, paying for his whims.”

“What are you talking about?”
“Your precious husband isn’t a cripple anymore,” Mikhail blurted out. “He’s fully recovered.”

“What?” Natalya was in shock. If that was true, how could she not have noticed? Was she really so blinded by guilt? But then why would Pyotr keep lying about his condition? Why always blame her for his accident? She didn’t want to believe it.

The hospital documents are in Mom’s room. If you want, I’ll show you. Mikhail started moving toward her like a predator stalking prey.

“And Petya is seeing Alyona again.”
“Alyona?” Natalya repeated, though she knew perfectly well who she was.

“Don’t be stupid,” Mikhail snapped. He was tired of the chit-chat. Suddenly, he yanked the vacuum from her hands and tossed it aside, then grabbed her tightly so she couldn’t move.

Natalya screamed in terror. Mikhail tried to silence her with his hand, but she jerked away, causing him to fall to the floor. Natalya scrambled onto the couch, screaming for help as loudly as she could, hoping the neighbors would hear.

Mikhail quickly got up and advanced on her, his eyes wild.
“Yell all you want!” he laughed. “No one’s coming to help you.”

“You’re wrong!” came a voice like thunder.

It was Nastya. Natalya looked at her as if she’d just saved the world, tears of relief streaming down her face. Nastya, however, was focused and alert, holding a pepper spray canister her husband had bought her “just in case.” That case had finally come.

Climbing the stairs, Nastya had heard her friend’s screams. Without hesitation, she’d found the door unlocked, entered, and confronted Mikhail with the pepper spray.

“Natalya, are you alright?” she asked, not taking her eyes off Mikhail.

With her free hand, she dialed her phone. “Come up here,” she said, then hung up and put the phone away.

“I am now,” Natalya nodded.
“How did you get in here?” Mikhail growled. “This is private property. Get out before I call the police.”

“Go ahead,” Nastya replied firmly. “You can explain to them why you attacked my friend.”

“What attack?” Mikhail shrugged. “We’re lovers. This is just our game.”

“Liar!” Natalya shouted. “You disgust me—I’d never sleep with you!”

“Never thought you were such a hypocrite,” Mikhail sighed. “Five minutes ago you were begging me to sleep with you, and now, with your friend here, you’re suddenly so proper.”

“Shame on you,” Nastya shook her head, not letting her guard down. “I know my friend—she’d never sleep with someone like you.”

“But she slept with my brother,” Mikhail sneered. “Even old ladies make mistakes.”

Nastya turned to Natalya. “How long do you need to pack?”
“Twenty minutes,” Natalya replied quickly, edging toward the door.

At that moment, Kirill entered the apartment. Seeing his wife with the pepper spray, he asked, “Need help?”
“Kirill, make sure this man doesn’t bother us while Natalya packs,” Nastya said, putting away the spray.

“Alright.” Kirill blocked the doorway, letting Natalya leave. Mikhail knew he was no match for Kirill physically, so he sat on the couch and turned on the TV. Let her leave—he’d tell his mother and brother that she came onto him and he kicked her out. Let her prove otherwise.

Fifteen minutes later, the women emerged with a suitcase.
“Got everything?” Kirill asked.
“No, one thing left,” Natalya looked at Mikhail. “You said there’s proof of Pyotr’s guilt in this room.”

“You must have imagined it,” Mikhail muttered, not looking at her.
“No, I didn’t,” Natalya said firmly. “I want it.”

“You’d better give it to her,” Kirill threatened, stepping into the room.

Mikhail quickly got up, walked to a chair, and turned it over. Taped underneath was a large folder of documents.

“That’s all?” Kirill asked sternly, taking the papers.
“Yes,” Mikhail was frightened.

“If you lied…” Kirill showed him his fist. “Girls, let’s go.” The women didn’t need to be told twice.

They hurried out of the apartment, Kirill following. Outside, Natalya hugged the documents tightly. Too bad they hadn’t found the dashcam, but at least they had proof that Pyotr had been faking his disability. Maybe that would help Yegor in court.

“Thank God I have you guys,” Natalya said gratefully.
“And we have you,” Nastya hugged her back.

“Alright, girls, enough standing around,” Kirill said, putting Natalya’s suitcase in the trunk. “Let’s go home,” Natalya smiled. “We have something to celebrate.”

The next morning, Natalya woke up in Nastya’s guest room. For the first time in ages, she felt truly rested. She stretched, smiled, and realized she felt free. No more Alekseev family, no more endless housework, no more humiliation.

She got up, washed her face, and went to the kitchen, where Nastya and Kirill were already having breakfast.
“Good morning!” Natalya greeted them.
“Morning!” they replied in unison.

“Sleep well?” Nastya asked.
“Like a baby,” Natalya smiled. “Thank you again. I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”
“Don’t mention it,” Kirill waved it off. “We’re family.”

After breakfast, Natalya decided to go for a walk to clear her head. She needed to think about her next steps. She had the documents proving Pyotr had been faking his disability, but she still needed the dashcam or memory card to help Yegor.

As she walked through the park, she suddenly saw a familiar face—Alyona, Pyotr’s ex-girlfriend, sitting alone on a bench, looking upset. Natalya hesitated, then decided to approach her.

“Hello, Alyona,” she said quietly.
Alyona looked up, startled, then forced a smile. “Oh, hi, Natalya.”

“Mind if I sit?”
“Go ahead,” Alyona shrugged.

For a moment, they sat in silence. Then Alyona spoke up, her voice trembling.
“Did you know Pyotr was planning to leave you?”
Natalya nodded. “I figured as much. And you?”

Alyona laughed bitterly. “He promised me the world, but never delivered. Said he’d leave you as soon as he got his hands on your apartment money.”
Natalya felt a surge of anger, but she kept her cool. “He’s been lying to both of us.”

Alyona looked at her, surprised. “You’re not mad at me?”
“I have no reason to be. You’re just another victim in his game.”
Alyona wiped away a tear. “He told me he loved me. That he was only with you out of pity and for the money.”

Natalya put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He used us both. But now it’s over. I have proof that he’s been faking his disability. He won’t be able to manipulate anyone anymore.”

Alyona’s eyes widened. “You do?”
“Yes. And I’m going to make sure he faces the consequences.”

Alyona hesitated, then reached into her bag and pulled out a small object—a memory card.
“I found this in Pyotr’s old jacket. I think it’s from his dashcam. I was going to give it to him, but… after what he did to me, I’d rather help you.”

Natalya took the card, her hands trembling. “Thank you, Alyona. This means more than you know.”

Alyona managed a weak smile. “I hope you find happiness, Natalya. You deserve it.”

They parted ways, and Natalya hurried back to Nastya’s apartment, her heart pounding. She had everything she needed now—proof of Pyotr’s lies and the dashcam memory card for Yegor.

Back at the apartment, she told Nastya and Kirill everything.
“We need to get this to Yegor as soon as possible,” Nastya said.
“And you need to confront Pyotr,” Kirill added. “He can’t get away with this.”

Natalya nodded. “I’ll call Yegor and arrange to meet him. And then… I’ll go to the resort and face Pyotr and his mother.”

Nastya squeezed her hand. “We’ll go with you. You’re not alone.”

Natalya smiled gratefully. For the first time, she felt truly supported.

That afternoon, Yegor arrived at Nastya’s apartment. Natalya handed him the memory card and the documents. He was overwhelmed with gratitude.

“You’ve saved my life, Natalya,” he said, tears in his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll take this to my lawyer right away. Justice will be served.”

After Yegor left, Natalya, Nastya, and Kirill packed up and headed to the resort, ready to confront Pyotr and Larisa Ivanovna with the truth.

Natalya, Nastya, and Kirill arrived at the resort in the late afternoon. The sun was setting, painting the sky in warm hues. Natalya felt both anxious and determined—this was the moment she’d been waiting for.

They found Pyotr and Larisa Ivanovna in the resort’s café. Pyotr was laughing about something, looking much healthier than he pretended at home. Larisa Ivanovna was complaining to a waiter about the soup.

As soon as they noticed Natalya and her friends, both Pyotr and his mother tensed up.

“Natalya?” Pyotr’s voice was wary. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk,” Natalya replied calmly, her eyes steady. “Don’t worry, I won’t stay long.”

Larisa Ivanovna snorted. “You couldn’t even leave us alone for a day?”
“I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say,” Natalya said, sitting down across from them. Nastya and Kirill stood behind her, silent but supportive.

Pyotr tried to keep up his act, slumping in his chair and putting on a pained expression. “If you came to make a scene, save it for home.”

Natalya looked him straight in the eyes. “Drop the act, Pyotr. I know everything. I know you’ve been faking your disability for months. I know about Alyona, about the money, about the lies.”

Pyotr’s face turned pale. Larisa Ivanovna’s eyes widened in shock.
“What are you talking about?” she hissed.
“I have all the proof,” Natalya continued, her voice unwavering. “Medical records, witness statements, and—most importantly—the dashcam footage from the accident. It’s over, Pyotr. You can’t manipulate me, or anyone else, anymore.”

Pyotr tried to bluster. “You’re making this up! You’re just angry because I’m sick!”
“Enough!” Kirill’s voice was like thunder. “We know the truth. If you try to deny it, we’ll go straight to the police.”

Larisa Ivanovna looked at her son, panic in her eyes. “Petya, tell me it’s not true!”
Pyotr said nothing, his head hanging in defeat.

Natalya stood up. “I’m leaving you, Pyotr. And I’m done supporting your family. From now on, you’ll have to take care of yourselves. I’ll bring all this evidence to the authorities and to Yegor’s lawyer. Justice will be done.”

She turned to Larisa Ivanovna. “You always treated me like a servant. You never cared how I felt. Well, I’m free now. I hope you enjoy your trip to Europe—if you can afford it without me.”

With that, Natalya walked out of the café, Nastya and Kirill by her side. She felt lighter than she had in years.

Outside, she took a deep breath of the fresh evening air.
“It’s over,” she whispered, tears of relief welling in her eyes.

Nastya hugged her. “You did it, Natalya. You’re free.”
Kirill smiled. “You have a new life ahead of you. And real friends.”

Natalya smiled through her tears. For the first time in a long time, she felt hope.