MY MOTHER-IN-LAW SLIPPED ME A NOTE ON MY WEDDING, AND I IMMEDIATELY DISAPPEARED THROUGH THE BACK DOOR FOR 15 YEARS
“Are you from the inspectors?” the secretary skeptically examined my documents.
“Exactly,” I adjusted my glasses in a stern frame. “Emergency audit related to recent publications.”
“Margarita Olegovna, do you have a minute?” I approached the passing chief accountant. “It seemed or are there certain… discrepancies in the 2023 report?”
The chief accountant visibly paled. As Vera Nikolaevna suspected, this woman knew too much and was looking for a way to clear her conscience.
“Nastya, something’s wrong,” Lena’s voice trembled on the phone. “I’ve been followed for two days now.”
“Stay calm,” I locked the office. “Is the flash drive in a safe place?”
“Yes, but Sergey’s people…”
“Be ready. And remember—tomorrow at ten, as we agreed.”
I approached the window. Two burly men in civilian clothes loomed at the entrance. The company’s security service was getting anxious. It was time to accelerate events.
“Sergey Valeryevich, a visitor for you,” the secretary barely contained a tremble in her voice.
“She says… you left her at the altar fifteen years ago.”
A heavy silence hung in the office. I decisively entered, not waiting for permission.
Sergey slowly raised his head from the documents. His face was a frozen mask.
“You…”
“Hello, dear. Didn’t expect me?”
He abruptly pressed a button on the phone:
“Security to me!”
His hand reached for the desk drawer.
“I wouldn’t advise it,” I cautioned. “Gunfire will cause unnecessary noise. And prosecutors are already waiting at the main entrance.”
For the first time, I saw fear appear on his face.
“What do you want?” he hissed.
“The truth. Tell about the yacht. About the ‘accident’ you planned.”
He leaned back in his chair and unexpectedly laughed:
“You’ve grown up, Nastya. Yes, I was going to eliminate you. Your inheritance was supposed to be an investment for the business. And then… I had to play the role of a grieving fiancé for years to keep anyone from asking too many questions.”
“And how many lives have you taken over these years?”
“This is business, kid. There’s no room for feelings here.”
The noise outside the door grew louder—the investigators were approaching.
“You know what?” I leaned closer to him. “Thanks to your mother. She not only saved my life but also taught me patience: sometimes you need to wait a long time to strike accurately.”
Three months later, I sat in my favorite coffee shop in Kaliningrad. The courtroom proceedings were broadcast on the TV—Sergey was sentenced to fifteen years in prison. Exactly the amount of time I had spent wandering.
“Your cappuccino, professor,” I set a cup in front of a regular customer.
“Thank you, Vera… I mean, Anastasia Vitalyevna,” he smiled sheepishly. “Will you return to your former life now?”
I looked around my coffee shop, the cozy corners, the regulars who had become a second family.
“You know, professor… Maybe the former life wasn’t real? Maybe I’m just starting a full life now. I’ve bought this coffee shop and I’m staying here.”
Outside, spring rain filled the air with the freshness of freedom.
From the husband’s perspective, the story might have unfolded like this:
I adjusted my tie in front of the mirror. There was a week left until the ceremonial ceremony, and every step was calculated to the smallest detail. Except for one thing—my damn mother, who had been too observant of me lately.
Three months ago, everything seemed perfectly simple. We sat in the “Jean-Jacques” restaurant with Igor and Dima, partners in business, or rather, what we called business.
“Guys, there’s a problem,” I swirled a glass of whiskey in my hands. “We need five million euros to start. Without them, our Chinese contract is doomed.”
“We could take out a loan…” began Dima.
“Who would approve such a large loan for us?” I smirked. “After the real estate failure, that’s hardly possible.”
Igor silently examined the ceiling, then slowly said: “What about your fiancée? Didn’t you tell us about her family’s decent fortune?”
I froze. Anastasia. Beautiful, trusting Anastasia with her inheritance from her grandfather—a network of jewelry boutiques and impressive accounts in Swiss banks.
“Don’t even think about it,” shook his head Dima. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Why?” Igor leaned forward. “Accidents happen. Especially during the honeymoon. Yachts are so unreliable…”
Anastasia lost her heart to me on our third date. I realized it when she looked at me across the table in the “Pushkin” restaurant. Her eyes glowed, and her fingers nervously played with a napkin. She talked about her work in the gallery, and I diligently feigned interest, mentally rejoicing at how easily everything was unfolding.
“Serezhenka, why do you always turn off your phone when we’re together?” she once asked.
“Because I want to be only with you,” I answered with a smile, grateful for the acting courses I attended at university.
She blushed and believed. Believed everything else—my stories about successful deals, compliments, promises. I nodded and smiled, calculating sums in my mind.
Only my mother watched me with suspicion. Especially when she noticed documents for a yacht on my table.
“Sergey,” she addressed me during dinner, stirring the cooled borscht, “you never liked water. What yacht?”
“For the honeymoon, Mom. I want to create a surprise for Nastya.”
She looked at me for a long time, then quietly said: “I don’t recognize you, son. What have you gotten into?”
The day before the ceremony, we met with the guys in my office. The plan was thoroughly worked out:
Wedding. Honeymoon on a yacht. Tragic incident in the open sea. A grieving widower gains access to his wife’s finances. “What if she refuses to go on the yacht?” asked Dima.
“She won’t refuse,” I smiled. “She’s so happy she’ll agree to anything.”
In the evening, my mother tried to talk to me again: “Sergey, stop this. I see that this is not you. Remember who you used to be…”
“Who, Mom? A loser with debts? No, I’ll solve my own problems.”
“At what cost?” her voice trembled.
“Any cost,” I sharply replied and left for my room.
The wedding morning started with hustle and champagne. I stood in front of the mirror, examining my reflection—impeccable suit, confident smile, cold gaze. In my pocket were tickets for tomorrow’s flight and documents for the yacht.
“Ready?” Igor peeked into the room.
“More than,” I adjusted my tie for the last time. “Time to become a happy groom.”
Events then developed out of plan.
I perfectly played the role of a worried groom for the first half hour.
“Where’s Nastya? Who saw the bride?”
Guests scattered throughout the mansion, checking every room. I darted among them, demonstrating anxiety, occasionally dialing her number. Nastya’s phone was unavailable.
“Maybe she’s just nervous?” suggested one of the bridesmaids. “Pre-wedding jitters happen…”
I absently nodded but continued to watch my mother. She sat in a chair, motionless, with an expression of strange satisfaction on her face. This was not concern—this was certainty.
“Damn it, Sergey!” Igor paced my office when the guests had dispersed. “What do we do now?”
“We file a report with the police,” I rubbed my temples. “We’ll search for the missing bride.”
“You don’t get it. What about the plan? The yacht is booked, all details are worked out…”
“The plan is adjusted,” I poured brandy into a glass. “Now I turn into a grieving fiancé whose beloved mysteriously disappeared on the eve of the celebration.”
“And the funds?” dared to interject Dima, who had been silent until then.
“We’ll find an alternative approach.”
Dima, after some silence, asked: “Sergey, could Mom have influenced it somehow?”
I sharply turned to him: “What are you implying?”
“Well, she’s been acting pretty strange lately. Maybe she suspected something?”
The picture in my head began to clear: my mother’s behavior, her questions, her actions at the wedding…
“Damn,” I muttered through my teeth. “She ruined everything.”
Late in the evening, I found her in the winter garden. She tended to her favorite orchids as if nothing special had happened.
“What did you tell her?”
Mother didn’t even turn around: “The truth, sonny. The very one you’ve been so diligently hiding.”
“Do you even realize what you’ve done?” grabbing her shoulder, I raised my voice. “How much money and effort were wasted!”
Finally, she looked up: “And do you realize what you were about to do? Destroy a girl who believed in you?”
“Business, Mom. No personal emotions.”
“Business?” she laughed bitterly. “When did you turn into such a person? Could that little boy who cried over his hamster’s sore paw calmly plan murders?”
“Enough!” I knocked the watering can from her hands. “You’ve ruined everything. But don’t worry, I’ll find a way to fix the situation.”
“How exactly? Will you destroy me too?”
I froze. In her gaze, there was no fear—just boundless fatigue and deep disappointment.
“No, Mom. However, you will have to step back from participating in the company’s affairs. For your own good.”
A week passed. The story of the mysteriously vanished bride gained wide publicity. I gave interviews, offered a reward for information, displayed the sorrow of an alleged groom. The press swallowed this story whole.
“And where to now?” Igor asked when we met in the new office.
“We’ll develop the business in other ways,” I handed him a folder with documents. “There are a few companies that can be acquired at a reasonable price. Their owners suddenly found themselves in a difficult situation…”
“A coincidence?” he smirked.
“Something like that,” I smiled. “Main rule—no more weddings. Too complicated to organize.”
Looking out the window where city lights twinkled in the darkening sky, I thought of Nastya. Wherever she was now, it no longer mattered. New prospects lay before me, and this time, no one could break them.
Even my own mother.
However, she still managed to do it, and you know the ending.
