Part 4 — My Humiliation at the Festive Table Changed the Plans of the Whole Family, but After My Response My Mother-in-Law’s Smile Disappeared

For several seconds after the unknown message I could not move.

Andria was still looking at me.

“Who is calling you?” he asked.

“A person who can tell more truth about you than you can.”

“Elene, don’t go.”

For the first time his voice did not sound like an order. Fear was mixed into it.

I put the phone into my bag.

“Tomorrow I will find out everything.”

The investigator told us that a car was waiting outside. When I came out of the restaurant, cold air struck my face and I realized that for the first time during the whole evening I was breathing freely.

That same night Andria called me twenty-one times.

The first call was full of anger.

“Come home. We need to sort all this out.”

The second already sounded like a plea.

“My mother has gone crazy. You are the only one who can stop the situation.”

The third message was shorter: “If you back down now, I will transfer everything to you.”

And the fourth did not come from him at all.

His lawyer called me.

“Mrs. Elene, I advise you not to file a complaint. A family conflict often looks wrong from the outside.”

“For me this is not a family conflict. This is a forged signature and an attempt to steal my property.”

“If you continue the case, your husband’s company will collapse.”

“His company has already been destroyed by his choice.”

The lawyer was silent for several seconds.

“Then I am no longer participating in this case.”

“Why?”

“Because today I read all the documents for the first time. I no longer want to lose my own license.”

In the morning I went to the old archival building. The smell of dust and dampness stood on the stairs. On the third floor I was met by a woman who had formerly been the accountant of Andria’s company.

She was holding a small wooden box.

“I am Marika,” she told me. “I was fired two months ago because I began asking questions.”

“What is in the box?”

She opened the lid.

Inside were a flash drive, several receipts, and notes made by my father’s hand.

I was stunned.

“These are my father’s notes.”

“He left several files with me before his death,” Marika said. “He told me to give them to you if anything happened to him.”

At the bottom of the box lay a small card from my father: “When everyone tells you that you are wrong, look at the numbers. They never lie.”

My eyes filled with tears.

My father had not trusted Andria from the beginning. Once before the wedding he told me that he saw greed in him, and then I quarreled with him. I told him he was too strict.

Now his words returned to me years later.

Marika inserted the flash drive into the computer.

Old accounts appeared on the screen. It could be seen there that Andria was not only stealing the company’s money, but was also deceiving two more partners under Galina’s name. Their money had been used to cover the loan taken against my house.

“Will this be enough?” I asked.

“It will be enough to start everything,” Marika answered.

Just then the investigator called me.

“Mrs. Elene, Andria and Galina have appeared for questioning. But they have already accused you.”

“Of what?”

“They say that you stole the company’s money and are now trying to take revenge.”

My heart clenched, although this was not unexpected.

Andria had spent all those months making others doubt me. Now he was repeating the same lie in an official room.

“I have recordings, documents, and a witness,” I said.

“We know. That is exactly why I am calling you. Your case will move quickly.”

I returned home in the evening.

Our house was strangely quiet. Andria’s things were no longer in the living room. The investigators had taken several boxes away, and only one empty nail remained on the wall.

The bedroom wardrobe was half open.

His clothes were no longer there.

But under the bed I found what hurt me most—my old beige scarf, the one I had worn that evening. The sauce stain had not come out completely. I held the fabric in my hand and looked at it for a long time.

It was no longer only a memory of humiliation.

It was the last thing belonging to the woman they wanted me to become.

The following weeks passed noisily.

Questionings.

Bank meetings.

Expert examinations.

Lawyers.

Andria tried to reconcile with me several times. Once he sent me flowers. The next day a letter arrived.

“We must get through this together,” it said.

I put the letter into the trash bin.

On the day of the court I saw him for the first time since we had parted at the restaurant. His face was tense, and Galina was no longer standing beside him.

They blamed each other.

Galina said that Andria made all the decisions.

Andria said that his mother had used access to the financial accounts.

The recording was played in the courtroom.

“Elene will not be able to resist us.”

His own voice came back from the walls.

Andria was looking at the floor at first. Then he raised his head and listened to the recording as if he were learning for the first time that he himself had said those words.

“If she cries, we will take her to a doctor.”

His face became gray.

Galina closed her eyes.

And I sat calmly with my hands placed on my knees.

The judge evaluated the forged signatures, the movement of money, the audio recording, and Marika’s testimony. Galina was sentenced for financial fraud. Andria was also held responsible for forgery and deceiving investors.

After the trial he came to me.

“Elene, please. Talk to me at least once as you did before.”

“Before, you were different too.”

“I still love you.”

“That may be so. But love that takes a house away from a person is no longer safe for me.”

He lowered his head.

“My mother ruined everything.”

“No, Andria. Your mother wrote the plan for you. But you signed it.”

Several months passed.

The house remained with me. The debts were canceled. The company’s victims got back part of their money. And I arranged a small workroom by the window, where sunlight fell on the wooden floor in the morning.

I continued working freelance, but now I had my own studio. I hung my father’s card on the wall.

“Look at the numbers.”

On Sundays Marika came for coffee. Together we checked the accounts of small companies and helped women who had found themselves in financially controlled relationships.

One morning my little nephew Niko came to me. He sat down at the table and drew a house for me with pencils.

“This is your house,” he told me.

“Why doesn’t it have a fence?”

“Because whoever you want can enter here. Whoever you do not want cannot enter.”

I laughed.

“That is a very good rule.”

The first snow was falling outside. White flakes struck the window, and the silence in the room was as peaceful as I had not felt for years.

That evening I received Andria’s last message.

“Tomorrow I am leaving the city. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

I looked at the screen for a long time.

Then I sent only one reply.

“I will not change my mind.”

I put the phone down.

The beige scarf lay on the edge of the bed, with the stain and a crumpled corner. Before, seeing it hurt me. Now I kept it in a small wooden box, beside my father’s card.

Niko picked up a pencil and drew a small door on the box.

“What does this mean?” I asked.

“The old story should stay here,” he answered.

I went to the window and looked at the snow.

For the first time the house was truly mine.

And I locked the door from the inside.