**“You should be more accommodating to my son,”** declared my mother-in-law, unaware that soon I would uncover a surprising truth.
**“School? Really?”** Valentina Sergeevna grimaced slightly, as if she found something displeasing. **“Artyom could have chosen a more suitable partner.”**
I quietly poured tea into the porcelain cups, my hands shaking with frustration. But I didn’t show it. I had learned over the past three months that in this house, I would always be the outsider.
**“Mom, please stop,”** Artyom said, squeezing my hand gently. **“Katya is a wonderful wife.”**
**“Wonderful?”** My father-in-law looked up from his tablet. **“Son, you could have chosen someone from our circle. But you brought home… a teacher.”**
His tone was dismissive. I wanted to leave right then, but Artyom held my hand. **“Dad, I love Katya. Isn’t that what matters?”**
**“Love?”** Valentina Sergeevna let out a small laugh. **“In our world, marriages are based on different things. But you’ve always been the romantic.”**
She looked me over critically, from my simple blouse to my neatly tied hair. I could feel the disapproval in her gaze.
**“Katerina, dear,”** she said, her voice syrupy sweet, **“what exactly do you teach at your… school?”**
**“Literature and Russian language,”** I answered calmly.
**“Ah, literature!”** she threw up her hands dramatically. **“So, you spend your days reading stories to children?”**
**“Mom!”** Artyom’s voice rose in frustration.
**“What? I’m just asking about her profession. By the way, Katerina, do you understand the kind of family you’ve married into? We have certain standards.”**
I took a sip of tea, trying to keep my emotions in check. The lump in my throat made it difficult, but I kept my voice steady.
**“I understand, Valentina Sergeevna. I try to live up to them.”**
**“Try?”** she laughed coldly. **“You have no idea what it means to be a Morozov wife. This isn’t your typical school parent-teacher meeting.”**
My father-in-law nodded in agreement. Artyom squeezed my hand tightly.
**“That’s enough,”** he said firmly. **“Katya is my wife, and I expect you to treat her with respect.”**
**“Respect is earned,”** Viktor Petrovich put his tablet down. **“So far, all I see is a provincial girl who married into a wealthy family.”**
Tears stung my eyes, but I forced a smile. I couldn’t show weakness. I wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.
**“I’m not a provincial girl, Viktor Petrovich. I was born and raised in Moscow, just like you.”**
**“Moscow?”** Valentina Sergeevna raised an eyebrow. **“Which district, if you don’t mind me asking?”**
**“Biryulyovo.”**
They exchanged glances. To them, Biryulyovo represented everything they thought was beneath them.
**“I see,”** my father-in-law said slowly. **“Well, the important thing is that you understand your place in this family.”**
**“What place?”** Artyom asked, unable to hold back.
**“The place of a wife who must align with her husband’s status,”** Valentina Sergeevna said bluntly.
The week passed in silence. Artyom apologized for his parents and promised to speak with them, but I knew it was pointless.
In their eyes, I would always be the outsider — someone who had married for money. They didn’t know the truth. I had fallen for Artyom long before I discovered his family’s wealth.
We met at a bookstore, debated over literature, laughed at the same jokes. Back then, he was just a guy with kind eyes and worn jeans.
One Thursday morning, Valentina Sergeevna called.
**“Katerina, please come by at four today. We need to talk.”**
Her tone made it clear this wasn’t going to be a friendly chat. I left my last lesson early, despite the principal’s disapproval. But I told myself that family was important — though I still felt uneasy.
The Morozov mansion greeted me with unnerving silence. Even the staff, usually so busy, seemed to have disappeared.
Valentina Sergeevna was waiting in the living room. Her hair was impeccable, her suit perfectly tailored, her smile icy.
**“Sit down, Katerina. Tea?”**
I shook my head, feeling a tightness in my chest. I was barely able to speak.
**“I’ve been thinking long about how to approach this,”** she began, her gaze piercing. **“You must realize — this marriage is a mistake.”**
**“A mistake for whom?”** I responded, trying to sound composed.
**“For all of us. But especially for Artyom. He’s the heir to a large fortune, and you…”** she said, her expression distasteful. **“You’re holding him back.”**
I could feel the anger building inside me, but I stayed silent.
**“I’m prepared to make you an offer,”** she continued, leaning forward. **“Five million for a divorce. No drama. Just tell Artyom you’ve fallen out of love.”**
**“No.”**
**“Ten million.”**
**“Valentina Sergeevna, I am not for sale.”**
Her mask slipped, and the icy composure faltered. **“Then listen closely,”** she said, her voice suddenly cold. **“If you want to stay in this family, you must be more obedient. Cook, clean, fulfill any request. No claims to inheritance, no children without my approval. You’ll remain in the background. Understood?”**
I stared at her, shocked. She wanted me to be submissive, to forgo my own identity. It was hard to believe.
**“And if I refuse?”**
**“Then I will do everything I can to separate you from Artyom. I have resources. It’s easy to fabricate stories.”**
She stood up, signaling that our meeting was over. I followed her, my legs shaking with frustration.
**“Think it over, Katerina. You have a week.”**
After leaving the mansion, I stood outside for a long time, trying to calm myself. My hands shook so badly that I had trouble unlocking the car.
Should I tell Artyom? He probably wouldn’t believe me. Even if he did, what difference would it make? Valentina Sergeevna had power, connections. I was just… a teacher.
Then I saw her. Valentina Sergeevna, stepping out of a shiny Mercedes. But she wasn’t alone. A tall man was holding her by the waist, laughing. She didn’t seem to mind the attention.
I instinctively hid behind a pillar, my heart pounding. They walked into a restaurant, smiling and whispering. He pulled her closer, and they kissed.
I was stunned. The woman who lectured me on morality — here she was, acting entirely differently.
I snapped a few photos. This was my leverage now. After all, hadn’t she threatened to frame me in the same way?
The family dinner the following Friday was different. My purse held my phone, and my resolve was stronger than ever.
**“Katerina looks thinner,”** Viktor Petrovich observed. **“Artyom, are you being too hard on her?”**
**“Dad, why would you say that?”** Artyom asked, clearly concerned.
**“Just stress from work,”** I replied.
**“Ah, yes. The school.”** Valentina Sergeevna smirked. **“By the way, have you thought about my offer?”**
**“What offer?”** Artyom asked, looking confused.
I pulled out my phone. **“I remember, Valentina Sergeevna. But before we continue, let me show you something.”**
Her face went pale as she saw the screen — photos of her with another man.
**“This is you last week. With someone… quite close, I believe.”**
The phone went around the table. Viktor Petrovich froze, fork halfway to his mouth. Artyom raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Valentina Sergeevna’s face turned bright red. **“How dare you…”**
**“How dare you try to control me?”** I stood tall, feeling a surge of confidence. **“You care so much about reputation, yet…”**
Viktor Petrovich dropped his fork. **“Thirty years of marriage, and you…”**
The rest of the conversation was lost in shouting. Valentina tried to explain herself, but Viktor Petrovich wasn’t having it.
Artyom squeezed my hand under the table, his eyes wide with shock. And pride?
**“Let’s go,”** he whispered.
We left them to argue. As we stepped out onto the porch, Artyom hugged me tightly. **“Forgive them. Forgive me. I should have protected you sooner.”**
**“There’s no need,”** I replied, resting my face on his shoulder. **“I handled it myself.”**
For the first time in months, I didn’t feel like a victim. I felt empowered.
