— “Not one more step into that restaurant, understood?” she hissed through her teeth, her sharp nails digging into the granite surface of the counter.
— “Of course, Ekaterina Pavlovna. As you command,” I replied, displaying a calm smile, although inside, I was already filled with the warmth of anticipating triumph.
The “White Swan” restaurant was once the pride of the city’s main boulevard. Now, its grandeur remained only in memories: marble columns and crystal chandeliers casting dim reflections on the half-empty hall, where waiters moved like ghosts, trying to avoid the scrutinizing gaze of the owner. The few patrons whispered among themselves, as if afraid to disturb the oppressive silence.
I leisurely headed to the car parked around the corner, where Artem was waiting for me. My heels rhythmically tapped on the cobblestone, counting down the seconds until I could allow myself a relaxed laugh.
— “So, still as unbearable?” he asked, opening the car door for me.
— “Absolutely. Only now her kingdom is beginning to crumble right under her nose,” I said as I settled into the passenger seat.
Three years ago, I sat in the kitchen of our home, struggling with a cold dinner. Father and Ekaterina had long finished their meal and moved to the living room, where her artificial laughter mingled with the sounds of the television.
— “Anna, why didn’t you clean up after yourself yesterday?” her voice suddenly sounded close.
— “I did,” I retorted, looking up from my plate. “I washed the dishes and wiped the table.”
— “Then what’s this?” She pointed to a barely noticeable stain on the tablecloth.
— “Ekaterina… maybe that’s enough?” my father’s weary voice came from the living room.
— “No! A daughter must understand what it means to respect someone else’s work. I am not going to live like a maid!”
My fists clenched under the table. At twenty-two, I was still hearing these remarks as if I were a little girl. And father… He just preferred to go back to his TV show.
— “Prepare the documents,” I said, handing Artem the flash drive. “It’s time to show her who’s really in charge here.”
— “Are you sure?” He looked at me attentively. “We could wait a bit longer until she’s completely in the debt pit.”
— “No,” I shook my head. “I want to see her reaction now, when she’s confident she still controls the situation.”
Artem smirked and started the engine. The car smoothly pulled away, leaving behind the restaurant with its faded sign. Ekaterina had no idea that over the last six months, I had acquired the controlling share of her “baby” through shell companies. She didn’t know that all her attempts to find investors had been thwarted by my interference.
The moment for the final chord had arrived. And I was going to enjoy every detail of this spectacle.
— “Ekaterina Pavlovna, there… this…” Lisa nervously fidgeted with a folder of financial statements, shifting from foot to foot at the door of her office.
— “What ‘this’?” Ekaterina snapped irritably, not taking her eyes off her laptop screen. “I don’t have time for riddles.”
— “The investor has arrived. The very one you’ve been searching for so long. He’s waiting in the VIP room.”
Ekaterina froze, slowly closing the laptop lid. For the last three months, she had been unsuccessfully knocking on the doors of banks and meeting with potential saviors of her business. And now, when the long-awaited buyer of the controlling stake had finally appeared, she felt as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff.
Alright,” she carefully ran her fingers through her perfectly styled hair. “Bring the coffee over there and notify the chef that we need the best appetizers from our menu.”
Her heels clicked distinctly across the empty hall, where bustle usually reigned at lunchtime. “The White Swan” continued to slowly fade—Yekaterina knew this, although she never allowed herself to admit it even in thought. Young restaurants with innovative concepts and avant-garde chefs were attracting more customers, and her old connections were crumbling one by one.
Groceries
The VIP room greeted her with soft dimness and a barely audible classical melody. At a table by the window sat a familiar figure, and for a moment, Yekaterina thought her vision was betraying her.
“You?” The words escaped before she could restrain them.
Anna turned slowly, and her smile was sharper than a razor.
“Please, sit down, Yekaterina Pavlovna,” she said in a soft, but steely voice. “We have a lot to discuss.”
“Is this some kind of silly joke?” Yekaterina froze, gripping the back of the chair. “You can’t be…”
“An investor?” Anna pulled out a thick stack of documents from her leather folder. “Sit down. You really should.”
Yekaterina’s knees trembled as she sat down. Impossible. Simply impossible. The girl she had ruthlessly kicked out of the house three years ago now sat before her in an elegant Chanel suit with a predatory smile.
“Fifty-one percent of the business,” Anna slid the documents across the table. “Of course, through a whole network of companies. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the pleasure of surprise.”
Lisa appeared silently with a coffee pot, but Yekaterina dismissed her with a sharp gesture:
“Get out!”
Don’t take out your dissatisfaction on the staff,” Anna noted calmly. “By the way, about the staff. You’ve delayed the salary payment for last month. And suppliers have already started inquiring about your financial report for the last quarter.”
“Have you been watching me?” Ekaterina paled with anger.
“I’ve just been carefully studying my investment,” Anna replied, sipping her coffee. “And I must say, the picture is quite dire: high staff turnover, decreasing revenue, problems with the sanitary inspection… The list goes on indefinitely.”
Ekaterina laughed hysterically:
“And what now? Decided to take revenge? To destroy what I’ve worked on for years?”
“On the contrary,” Anna smiled even wider. “I want to save the restaurant. But on my terms.”
She pulled out a new document:
“A new management contract. With all duties and restrictions. No humiliating staff. No fiddling with reports. And no personal expenses at the expense of the restaurant.”
“And if I refuse?” Ekaterina looked at her defiantly.
“Then I’ll withdraw my money. And we’ll see how long ‘The White Swan’ lasts without financial support. A month? Or less?”
A heavy silence hung in the room. Outside, rain began, the drops slowly streaming down the glass, like tears.
“You know,” Ekaterina suddenly said, looking out the window, “I always knew you’d get back at me. But I never imagined it would be… like this.”
“It’s not revenge,” Anna shook her head. “It’s business. I’m offering you a chance to fix the situation. To start with a clean slate.”
“Under your control?”
“Under our partnership.”
Ekaterina was silent for a long time. Outside, the rain intensified, washing the dirt off the city roofs. Finally, she reached for the documents:
“Where do I sign?”
“Here,” Anna handed her a pen. “And here. Also on the third page.”
When the papers were signed, Ekaterina stood up:
“What’s next?”
“Now we’ll work together,” Anna also stood up. “Tomorrow at ten, there’s a meeting with the staff. Don’t be late… partner.”
At the exit, she paused:
“And yes, Ekaterina Pavlovna… Don’t try to kick me out of this restaurant again.”
Groceries
Left alone, Ekaterina filled her cup with coffee, her hands trembling. She couldn’t understand what she felt more—fear or relief. But for the first time in many months, she was sure of one thing: “The White Swan” would not disappear. At least, not today.
Across town, Anna sat in Artem’s office, watching the nighttime city through a panoramic window. Its silhouette was illuminated by the reflections of a million lights, and the dark-red wine in their glasses seemed to reflect the depth of the events they had just lived through.
“How did it go?” he asked quietly, handing her a glass.
Anna accepted the wine but did not rush to drink. She twirled the stem of the glass between her fingers, watching how the dark liquid left thin trails on the glass.
“You know,” she finally began, “I imagined this moment hundreds of times. Thought I would feel… I don’t know, triumph? Satisfaction?” She smiled joylessly. “Instead, I saw just a frightened woman, clutching at straws.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I guess,” she replied, taking a small sip. “But when her hands trembled over the documents… it reminded me of my mother when she was ill. For a moment, I even wanted to…” Anna shook her head sharply, as if to dispel the thoughts. “Never mind. What’s next?”
“The hardest part,” she continued, spinning the glass. “Turn her into someone who can work honestly. Show that business can be conducted without manipulation and deception. It will be… an interesting process.”
“For whom more interesting—for her or for you?”
“For both of us,” Anna said, checking the time on her watch. “Tomorrow’s the first meeting. We need to prepare a financial plan.”
“Are you sure you can handle it? Working with someone who made your life hell…”
“I’m no longer that frightened girl, Artem,” she said, setting down her glass. “And she’s no longer the all-powerful stepmother. Now we’re just partners. Nothing personal.”
But they both knew—it was a lie. It was all personal. And it always would be.
Within a week, “The White Swan” was transformed beyond recognition. Live flowers appeared in the hall, the music softened, and the staff no longer flinched at every sound. Ekaterina squeezed out strained smiles and tried to speak calmly, although everyone noticed how she clenched her teeth, seeing Anna.
“Revenue increased by fifteen percent,” Liza reported at the morning meeting. “And three corporate orders for next month.”
Ekaterina silently stared at her cooling coffee. She remembered how a month ago she had yelled at Liza for much better figures. Now, she had to silently watch as her former stepdaughter turned chaos into order.
“Excellent,” Anna said, reviewing the reports. “By the way, starting next week we’re raising the waitstaff’s salaries. And adding bonuses for positive reviews.
It’s unnecessary,” Ekaterina couldn’t hold back. “They already…”
“They already work beyond their means,” Anna interrupted her. “And they deserve fair pay.”
Ekaterina hastily gathered her papers, avoiding the gazes of those around her. The meeting had drained her—every polite smile, every controlled tone was given with great difficulty. She had almost reached the door to her office when she heard the familiar click of heels. That sound now sent a chill over her skin.
She pretended to be busy with her keys, deliberately fiddling with the lock slowly. Perhaps, if she didn’t turn around, everything would just pass on its own…
“Ekaterina Pavlovna.”
The voice sounded unexpectedly soft. Ekaterina turned around. Anna stood there, adjusting the cuff of her blazer, and something almost human flickered in her flawless demeanor.
“Let’s have coffee,” she suggested simply. “And talk. No masks.”
Ekaterina froze. It was this simple humanity that scared her more than any threat.
“About what?” she asked tiredly, sinking into a chair. “You’ve already decided everything for me.”
“Not everything,” Anna replied, sitting opposite. “I want to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Why did you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”
Ekaterina paused. This question had haunted her for years, but she had never allowed herself to answer it honestly.
“Do you really want to know?” her voice trembled. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”
She walked to the window:
“Have you ever worked as a waitress, Anna? Can you imagine what it’s like—to smile for hours at people who look right through you?”
Anna was silent, and Ekaterina continued:
“For ten years, I served food to people like you. Girls from wealthy families who got everything just because they were born into the right families. I smiled when they complained about cold coffee, apologized when they dropped their thousand-dollar bags…”
Ekaterina abruptly turned to face Anna:
“And then I met your father. And I thought—here it is, my chance. Finally, I’ll be on the other side of the barricade. I’ll be the one waiters smile at.”
“And then there was me,” Anna quietly added.
“Exactly!” Ekaterina almost shouted it. “You! A carbon copy of your mother in every way: just as refined, educated, with those manners and knowledge of French. My new husband loved you more than me, and it drove me insane.”
She sank back into the chair, as if running out of strength:
“I thought, if you disappeared, he would finally love me the way I wanted. But instead, he just… stopped smiling.”
A heavy silence filled the office. Anna stood by the window, looking at the bare branches of a maple swaying against the gray autumn sky. Somewhere in the distance, someone laughed, and cars honked below, but their world remained enclosed.
“Funny, isn’t it?” Anna traced her finger across the fogged-up glass, leaving a faint trail. “When I left home, I had three hundred rubles in my pocket and a backpack with my belongings. Do you know where I lived at first?”
Ekaterina remained silent, but her gaze was fixed on Anna’s back.
“In a hostel on the outskirts of the city. Six people in one room, a communal kitchen with cockroaches. I worked in a 24-hour cafe,” she bitterly smiled. “Four days on, two off, double shifts during holidays. I remember how I broke a whole tray of cups on my first day. I was afraid they’d fire me.”
She turned around. Ekaterina sat, clutching the armrests of her chair until her knuckles turned white.
“But they didn’t fire me,” Anna continued more softly. “They taught me how to work. How to properly hold trays, how to interact with customers. How to smile, even when everything inside is cracking.”
She took out a worn folder from her bag:
“There was a girl, Marina. Manager. One day she caught me in the storage room after a particularly tough shift. She saw me crying, and do you know what she did?”
Ekaterina slowly shook her head.
“She poured me a cup of coffee and said, ‘Now let’s think about how you can get out of this.’ We spent the whole night making my first business plan,” Anna placed the folder on the table. “Then Artem appeared, and everything took off. But I’ll never forget that night. Sure, I could have taken my father’s money, lived comfortably, but I had to do it all myself. He chose his new life, and we’ve hardly spoken for years.”
She opened the folder, showing sketches, charts, and calculations for the revival of “The White Swan.”
“I don’t want to take your restaurant away,” Anna started, sitting on the edge of the table. “I want it to become a place worth visiting again. Where waiters smile sincerely, and chefs take pride in their dishes. Where…” she hesitated, searching for words, “where we both can start afresh.”
“My experience?” Ekaterina bitterly smiled. “In what? In intimidating people?”
“In understanding kitchen work, in contacts with suppliers, in thousands of details you know better than me. Let’s just try to do it differently.”
She extended her hand:
— Partners?
Ekaterina stared at the extended hand for a long time before slowly shaking it:
— Partners.
A month later, the “White Swan” was transformed beyond recognition. New lighting enlivened the interior, and the updated menu attracted more visitors. Ekaterina sometimes still burst into shouts, but she quickly composed herself and apologized.
— How’s your stepmother? — Artem asked as he dined with Anna at another place.
— Strange, — she said thoughtfully, swirling her wine glass. — I went there for revenge. I wanted to see her break. But now…
— What now?
— Now I see myself in her. That little scared girl I once was. She just wanted to be loved.
Artem looked at her intently:
— So, what are you going to do?
— What no one did for me, — Anna replied with a slight smile. — I’ll give her a chance to become better.
That evening, as she walked past the “White Swan,” she noticed Ekaterina through the window. She was sitting at a table with an elderly couple, genuinely smiling and chatting. There was no falseness or malice in that smile.
Anna moved on, feeling a strange sense of calm. Revenge is a dish that often cooks too long. But sometimes, it’s better just to let it go uncooked.
— Mom, where’s the cake? — a child’s voice rang from the kitchen.
— Just a moment, dear. Let Aunt Kate decorate it, — Anna watched as Ekaterina meticulously created patterns with cream on the cake’s surface.
Ten years since Anna had bought a controlling stake in the “White Swan” and turned revenge into an unexpected partnership. Now they had a chain of five restaurants, but that seemed no longer the main thing.
Little Marina fidgeted at the table impatiently. Ekaterina winked at her and added the final touch—a sugar butterfly on the very top.
— Done, — she straightened up, stretching her stiff back. — Think dad will like it?
Anna paused, hearing those words. Even after ten years, any mention of her father stirred mixed feelings. He had tried to contact her initially, but she ignored his calls. Then, he just stopped calling.
— Are you okay? — Ekaterina asked softly, as if afraid to disrupt the fragile balance.
It was amazing to realize how much this woman had come to understand her. That very stepmother who once turned her life into hell was now… what? A partner? A friend? Part of the family?
— Yes, just… — Anna shook her head. — He called yesterday.
Ekaterina carefully set down the pastry bag:
— And what did he say?
— Wants to meet. Says he’s sick.
Marina, who had been sitting on a high kitchen stool swinging her legs, froze. She looked from her mother to Aunt Katy, then picked up her worn plush rabbit and silently slid off the stool. The only sound was the slap of her soft home slippers on the parquet as she disappeared into her room. Seven-year-olds always know when adults need to talk alone.
— Will you answer? — Ekaterina asked, trying to be as delicate as possible.
— I don’t know, — Anna ran her hand over the cool surface of the table. — And you… do you keep in touch with him?
Ekaterina turned to the window:
— Sometimes. We divorced five years ago, you remember. But he calls every few months. Asks about you.
Anna bitterly smiled:
— Funny. He never cared about me before.
— People change, — Ekaterina whispered so quietly that Anna barely heard her. — We are proof of that, right?
Rain drummed on the tin ledge outside, and the kitchen was filled with the sweet scent of the underbaked cake. From the nursery came the muffled voice of Marina: “No, princesses don’t sit like that!” Anna absently ran her hand over the table, as if gathering non-existent crumbs.
— It’s all so strange, — she murmured almost to herself. — For many years, I harbored resentment inside me, and now… now there’s just emptiness. I don’t even have the strength to be angry. It’s like something burned out.
Ekaterina stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder:
— Maybe it’s forgiveness?
— Possibly, — Anna covered her hand with hers. — Or fear.
— Fear?
— Yes. Fear of seeing him not as the monster from the past, but just… a sick old man.
At that moment, Marina burst into the kitchen:
— Mom, dad’s already here! Can I give him my gift first?
Anna smiled, wiping away a sudden tear:
— Of course, dear. Go ahead.
As the girl ran off, Ekaterina quietly added:
— Whatever you decide… I’m here.
In those words was more warmth and support than in all the letters from her father over the years.
The hospital corridor was steeped in the smells of antiseptic and old age. Anna sat on a plastic chair, examining her shoes and trying not to think about who was behind the ward door — a person she hadn’t seen in ten years.
— Coffee? — Ekaterina handed her a cardboard cup from the vending machine. — Just a warning, it’s terrible.
— Like everything here, — Anna accepted the cup but didn’t take a sip. — You know, I’ve been here before when mom… — She stopped, unfinished.
Ekaterina sat down next to her:
— I didn’t know how to behave then. I was afraid that if I showed even a drop of sympathy, you would take it as hypocrisy.
— And I thought you just didn’t care, — Anna gave a humorless smile. — We were both pretty foolish, weren’t we?
Behind the ward door, the sound of a falling object and a nurse’s footsteps were heard. Anna flinched.
— You don’t have to go in, — Ekaterina said quietly. — We can just leave.
— No, — Anna shook her head. — Marina asked yesterday why she doesn’t have a grandfather like other kids. I couldn’t answer. Maybe it’s time to stop running.
She stood up, straightening invisible wrinkles on her dress — a gesture, like an echo from the past, always revealed her anxiety. Ekaterina remembered how, ten years ago, before signing the partnership documents, she had similarly fussed over her skirt, as if trying to organize not just her clothes but her thoughts.
The ward door opened silently, as if the very space was afraid to break the silence. On the hospital bed, entwined with wires and tubes, lay a man Anna barely recognized. Gray hair, hollow cheeks, deep wrinkles — it all made him a stranger. She paused at the threshold, unable to step forward.
— Anya? — his voice was raspy, barely discernible. — You came after all.
She didn’t respond. For years she had imagined this meeting, rehearsed monologues filled with anger and pain. But now the words seemed unnecessary, as if time had already put everything in its place.
— Hello, dad, — she finally said, feeling a lump rise in her throat.
He tried to sit up, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. Anna instinctively stepped forward, still clutching the strap of her bag as if it could keep her from falling into an abyss of old grievances.
— Don’t, lie down, — she said, approaching closer. — How are you?
— Lousy, — he weakly smiled. — Doctors say I have about three months left.
Ekaterina, standing behind, quietly squeezed her elbow. It was a gesture of support that Anna didn’t even realize she needed.
— I… I’ve thought a lot, — he continued, struggling to find the words. — About everything. About how I messed it all up. How I betrayed you when you needed me the most.
— Dad… — she began, but he interrupted.
— No, let me finish. I don’t have much strength left, — he coughed, and Anna handed him a glass of water. — I saw your restaurant. What you and Katya created. How you managed to overcome… all this. And I just hid. Pretended everything was fine. Even then, I didn’t care about you.
Ekaterina quietly left the ward, leaving them alone. This was their moment, their conversation.
— You know, — Anna sat on the edge of the bed, — I’ve thought a lot too. About why you never took my side. And you know what’s funny? Now I understand — you were just scared. Scared to be alone, scared to make tough decisions. Just like I used to be.
She saw tears glint in his eyes.
— Forgive me, daughter.
Those words, which she had waited for so long, sounded so simple that Anna felt something inside her release.
— Grandpa, look, I drew all of us! — Marina burst into the ward, waving a sheet of paper. On the child’s drawing, angular strokes depicted stick figures holding hands. Each was labeled with names — mom, Aunt Katya, grandpa, dad.
Oleg carefully took the drawing with trembling hands.
— Beautiful, sunshine, — his voice trembled. — But why does Aunt Katya have a blue dress?
— Because it’s her favorite color! — the girl explained importantly. — She told me so.
Anna, standing in the doorway, caught Ekaterina’s surprised look. She really loved blue, but she had never mentioned it before. At least, not in the past.
— Marina, darling, — Ekaterina called, — let’s go buy grandpa some juice? The one he likes.
As they left, Anna sat next to her father.
— She’s attached to you.
— She’s wonderful, — he was still looking at the drawing. — Just as bright as you were at her age. Remember how you used to draw butterflies on all my business papers?
— I remember, — Anna smiled. — Mom then scolded you for not throwing them away.
— I kept them. Still do, — he coughed. — In a box in the attic. Along with your school photos and first certificates.
Anna felt a lump rising in her throat.
— Why? You never showed that they meant anything to you.
— Because I was a coward, — he took her hand. — I thought if I pretended everything was fine, then it would be. When your mom died, I just… broke down. Ekaterina seemed like a lifebuoy. And then it was too late to change anything.
Outside, a light autumn rain drizzled. Somewhere in the corridor, Marina’s laughter could be heard — she was telling Ekaterina another kindergarten story.
— You know what’s the most amazing? — Anna adjusted the blanket on his legs. — How everything changed. When I came to the restaurant ten years ago with a plan for revenge, I thought hatred was forever. But now…
— Now you’re a real family, — he weakly squeezed her fingers. — More real than we ever were. I see how she looks at Marina. How she takes care of you, even when you don’t notice.
— Remember the day I left home?
— Every second, — he closed his eyes. — I sat in the office and heard the front door slam. And I didn’t come out. Didn’t stop you.
— And I waited, — Anna quietly admitted. — I stood in the rain, waiting for you to run out after me. Silly, right?
Ekaterina and Marina returned to the ward. The girl was carrying a bag of juice like the greatest treasure.
— Grandpa, we found pomegranate! Your favorite!
Anna stood up, making room for her daughter. Ekaterina approached her quietly.
— Everything okay?
— Yes, — Anna suddenly hugged her. — Thank you.
— For what?
— For teaching me to forgive. Myself included.
Marina was animatedly telling her grandfather something, waving her hands. He listened with such attention, as if it was the most important conversation of his life. Maybe it was.
— You know what’s funny? — Ekaterina whispered. — I wanted revenge too. Back in the beginning. Wanted to prove I was worthy of being part of this family. And in the end…
— In the end, you became it, — Anna finished. — Truly.
Outside, the rain gradually subsided. Somewhere in the distance, a rainbow flickered — rare for late autumn. Marina jumped up to show it to her grandfather, and he, with effort, propped himself up on the pillows.
Anna watched them and thought about the oddities of life. How revenge can turn into forgiveness. How enemies become family. And how a little girl’s love can mend the fragments of broken relationships, turning them into something new, unexpectedly beautiful.
In the end, maybe that’s the real secret to happiness — the ability to let go of the past, not forgetting its lessons. The ability to see the good even in those who once caused pain. And the readiness to start all over again, even if there’s very little time left.
