Valentina was standing in the middle of her own living room, clutching a bunch of keys in her hand. Her gaze darted between the two women sprawled on the sofa like full-fledged homeowners. Her husband’s aunt, Zlata Feoktistovna, a hefty woman in her sixties wrapped in a leopard-print dress, was swinging one leg in a patent leather shoe. Next to her lounged her daughter Evelina—a thirty-year-old with platinum-blond dyed hair and false eyelashes like fans.
“OUT of my apartment!” Valentina repeated, taking a step forward.
Zlata Feoktistovna burst out laughing, throwing her head back. Her laughter sounded like the cawing of a crow that had found carrion. Evelina joined in, letting out such shrill sounds that Valentina’s ears rang.
“Are you completely off your rocker, dearie?” Zlata wheezed, wiping away tears. “Lyoshenka himself offered to let us stay here. We’re FAMILY now, you understand? FA-MI-LY!”
“What damn family?” Valentina hurled the keys onto the coffee table. “Alexei didn’t invite you! You showed up with your suitcases a week ago all on your own!”
Evelina pulled a compact mirror from her purse and started touching up her lips with bright fuchsia lipstick.
“Mom, do you hear how she’s talking to us?” she drawled, stretching her lips into a smile. “She’s completely lost her manners. Lyoshka was right about her—hysterical.”
“What?” Valentina felt the blood rush to her face. “Alexei said that about me?”
“You bet he did!” Zlata heaved herself up from the sofa, the floorboards groaning in protest under her weight. “He complained all the time. Said you wore him out with your constant nagging. This isn’t right, that isn’t right. He doesn’t make enough money, doesn’t pay you enough attention. The poor boy is exhausted from you!”
Valentina clenched her teeth. Eight years of marriage, eight years of putting up with Alexei’s coldness, his constant late nights at work, canceled plans, forgotten anniversaries. And now she finds out he’s been discussing her with these… creatures.
“Where is Alexei?” she hissed through her teeth.
“At work, where else,” Evelina snapped her compact shut. “He’s out earning money. Speaking of money. Mom, remember? Lyosha promised to give us some for shopping.”
“Oh right, sweetie!” Zlata smacked herself on the forehead. “Valyusha, darling, give us fifty thousand from your stash, would you? Lyoshka will pay it back tonight.”
Valentina couldn’t believe her ears.
“Why on earth would I give you money?”
“Well, we’re relatives!” Zlata came closer, enveloping Valentina in the smell of cheap perfume. “Don’t be stingy. You’ve got it, I know. Lyosha said you’re secretly saving up.”
“GET OUT!” Valentina screamed. “Get out of my apartment RIGHT NOW!”
And that’s when it started. Zlata Feoktistovna let loose such a torrent of choice obscenities that even the battle-hardened Valentina blushed. Evelina kept pace with her mother, adding her own gems to the stream of abuse. The apartment filled with curses so thick it seemed the wallpaper should start peeling off the walls.
“…and you’re just a plucked chicken, anyway!” Zlata finished her fiery speech. “You think Lyoshka married you for love? He told me himself—you latched onto him like a bulldog! Chased him, called nonstop, begged him! He only agreed out of pity!”
Valentina froze. It was a lie, a filthy, disgusting lie. She and Alexei had met at a mutual friend’s birthday party; he was the one who approached her, who asked her out on their first date. The first years had been happy, full of plans and hope. When had it all gone wrong?
“You’re lying,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, sure, we’re lying!” Evelina snorted. “Mom, show her!”
Zlata pulled a smartphone out of the pocket of her dress and began poking at the screen.
“Here, look! Messages from Lyosha. Read!”
She shoved the phone under Valentina’s nose. There really was a chat open in a messenger app. The contact was saved as “Lyoshenka-nephew.”
“Auntie Zlat, please come. I can’t take her anymore. She’s driving me crazy.”
“Of course, dear! Evelinka and I will come right away. We’ll support you.”
“Thanks. Just don’t tell her I invited you. Say you decided to come visit on your own.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll do everything right. We’ll put her in her place in no time.”
Valentina recoiled. The style of the messages really did resemble Alexei’s way of writing—short phrases, no emojis, his usual abbreviations.
“It’s fake,” she forced out.
“Sure, fake!” Zlata snatched the phone away. “Everything’s fake to you! You live in your little fantasy world where Lyoshenka loves you. But he can’t stand you! He said he’ll divorce you as soon as he finds a good lawyer.”
A key turned in the lock. All three of them froze. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and a moment later Alexei walked into the living room. A tall, fit thirty-five-year-old man in an expensive suit, with neatly trimmed dark hair. His gray eyes slid over everyone present.
“What’s going on here?” he asked evenly.
“Lyoshenka!” Evelina squealed, throwing herself at his neck. “Thank God you’re here! Valya’s gone completely crazy! She’s kicking us out!”
Alexei gently pushed his cousin away and looked at his wife.
“Valentina, what’s this about?”
“What’s this about?” Valentina could not believe what was happening. “Your dear relatives claim you invited them yourself! That you can’t stand me! That you’re planning to divorce me!”
Alexei frowned and turned his gaze to his aunt.
“Aunt Zlata, you must be mistaken. I didn’t invite you.”
“What do you mean, didn’t invite us?” Zlata threw up her hands. “Lyoshenka, sweetheart, you wrote it yourself! Look!”
She pulled out her phone again, but Alexei didn’t even glance at the screen.
“This is some kind of misunderstanding. I didn’t write that. And I don’t even have your number.”
“But… but…” Zlata blinked in confusion. “You… We’ve been here a whole week…”
“And I PUT UP with it out of politeness,” Alexei cut her off. “But if you’re spreading lies about me and my wife, then I’m asking you to leave our apartment.”
“Our home,” he corrected himself, taking Valentina by the hand.
Evelina edged back toward the sofa.
“Lyosha, what are you doing? We’re family…”
“Distant,” Alexei clarified. “Very distant. So distant that this is only the second time I’ve seen you in my life. The first was at Granddad’s funeral ten years ago.”
“Ungrateful!” Zlata shrieked. “We came to you with open hearts, and you…”
“With open hearts to DEMAND money from my wife?” Alexei stepped forward. “Yes, Valentina already managed to text me. You know what? You have half an hour to pack your things and GET OUT. Or I’ll call security.”
“Security?” Evelina scoffed. “What security?”
“The concierge downstairs. Former special forces, by the way. I’m sure he’d be happy to help you with your luggage.”
Zlata turned purple.
“We’ll sue you! For moral damage! For insults!”
“Go ahead,” Alexei replied calmly. “Just keep in mind I recorded your whole little show today. The recorder’s right there on the shelf behind the vase. I turned it on as soon as I heard your yelling from the stairwell.”
Valentina turned around. Sure enough, between the books she could see a small black device with a glowing red light.
“You… you planned this!” Zlata breathed.
“NO, I didn’t plan it. I just knew that sooner or later you’d show your TRUE face. Greedy, brazen, lying. Speaking of lies—Evelina, remember Yaroslav Kosmodemyansky?”
Evelina flinched and went pale under her layer of foundation.
“I… I don’t know any Yaroslav.”
“Strange. He remembers you very well. Especially the thirty thousand you borrowed from him for your supposedly sick mother’s ‘operation.’ The mother who, as I see, feels just fine.”
“How do you…” Zlata clutched at her chest.
“I have lots of friends in different cities, Aunt Zlata. And they told me some interesting things. For example, how you and your daughter wander from relative to relative, driving them out of their own homes. First you come ‘to visit for a week,’ then you start acting like you own the place, demanding money, making scenes. Six families in the last three years. Impressive.”
“That’s slander!” Evelina screeched.
“Those are facts. I’ve got contact information for all of them. Want me to arrange a face-to-face?”
Mother and daughter exchanged glances. Fear appeared in their eyes.
“Twenty minutes,” Alexei said, checking his watch. “Nineteen.”
Zlata grabbed Evelina by the hand.
“Let’s go! We’ve got nothing to do here! They’re… they’re…”
She didn’t finish and ran out of the room. Evelina hurried after her. A few minutes later, noises came from the guest bedroom—frantic packing, doors banging, muffled swearing.
Valentina was still standing in the middle of the living room, unable to believe what had just happened.
“Alexei… Is it true? About the recorder, about their past?”
Her husband hugged her and pulled her close.
“I’m sorry. I should have kicked them out right away. But I wanted to gather evidence. You understand, they could’ve gone around later spreading filthy rumors. Now we have a record of how they behaved.”
“But how did they get your texting style? Those messages…”
“Faking a chat takes five minutes. Any teenager could do it. They probably studied my social media posts and copied my manner. But they missed one detail—I never call you Valya or Valka in messages. Only by your full name or ‘my love.’”
Valentina buried her face in his shoulder.
“I thought… I thought you really stopped loving me. You’ve been so cold lately.”
“Problems at work. A big project, the whole department’s future depends on it. But that’s no excuse. I should’ve spent more time with you, with us. I’m sorry.”
There was a crash from the hallway. It sounded like Zlata had dropped a suitcase.
“Evelinka, help me!” her voice rang out. “It’s heavy!”
“Carry it yourself!” her daughter snapped. “Because of you we’re broke now!”
“It’s your fault! You should’ve been more careful!”
“My fault? It was your plan!”
Another loud quarrel broke out. Mother and daughter yelled at each other, not choosing their words. At last the front door slammed shut.
Alexei walked over to the window and looked outside.
“They’re gone. Dragging their suitcases to the bus stop.”
“I hope they don’t come back.”
“They won’t. I called Yaroslav. He’s already filed fraud charges against Evelina. And four more victims have joined the suit. They’re going to have serious problems soon.”
Valentina exhaled in relief. The apartment suddenly seemed brighter and more spacious, as if the heavy, oppressive atmosphere had left together with the uninvited guests.
“You know,” she said, “maybe it’s for the best. Their visit showed us how far apart we’ve grown. We need to fix that.”
“I agree. Let’s start right now. Dinner at that Georgian restaurant you like?”
“With pleasure. Just let’s air out the apartment first. It still reeks of their perfume.”
They opened all the windows, letting in the fresh evening air. The city hummed below with its usual life, indifferent to the small dramas playing out in separate apartments.
Two hours later, when they were already sitting in the restaurant at a table by the window, Alexei’s phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen and smirked.
“What is it?” Valentina asked.
“A text from an unknown number. ‘Alexei, this is Aunt Zlata. Evelina and I got into some trouble. We were detained right at the train station. Some Yaroslav claims we’re scammers. Please help! We’re FAMILY!’”
“And what are you going to answer?”
Alexei turned off the phone and slipped it into his pocket.
“Nothing. I don’t have an aunt named Zlata. I have a distant relative of my father’s that I don’t keep in touch with. What she does in her free time is not my problem.”
They raised their wineglasses.
“To our family,” Alexei said. “Our real family. Just you and me.”
“And no uninvited guests,” Valentina added.
“Especially ones with suitcases and leopard-print dresses.”
They both laughed, and Valentina felt that the closeness and understanding that had once brought them together was back between them.
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, at a police station, Zlata Feoktistovna and Evelina were sitting on a hard bench, waiting for the investigator. Evelina was smearing her runny mascara across her cheeks, and Zlata was mumbling something about the unfairness of the world.
“Ladies,” a young sergeant poked his head into the office, “the investigator will see you in ten minutes. And yes, you’ll be provided with a lawyer. A public defender. Although in your case… There’s a whole folder of complaints from victims. There’s even one from Novosibirsk.”
“From Novosibirsk?” Evelina hiccupped. “But we were there two years ago…”
“Exactly. The Kuropatkin family remembers you very well. Especially the jewelry that went missing.”
Zlata jabbed her daughter with her elbow.
“Quiet! Don’t say anything without a lawyer!”
But it was already too late. The wheels of justice had started turning, and there was no stopping them. Yaroslav Kosmodemyansky, a successful businessman whom Evelina had once conned, had used all his connections to track down other victims. And he had found them. Twelve families, deceived, robbed, humiliated.
A week later the first court hearing took place. Zlata and Evelina sat in the defendants’ dock, and the courtroom was filled with their former victims. The prosecutor read out the charges—fraud, theft, extortion, defamation. The list was long.
“Defendant Evelina Kharlampievna Kosmacheva,” the judge addressed the younger accused, “do you plead guilty?”
Evelina sobbed. Without makeup and teased hair she looked pitiful and lost.
“It was all my mom!” she blurted out. “It was her idea! She made me do it!”
“WHAT?” Zlata jumped to her feet. “You were the one who came up with all the schemes! Ungrateful brat!”
“Order in the court!” the judge banged his gavel. “Defendant Kosmacheva, continue.”
And Evelina began to talk. She told everything—how they chose their victims among distant relatives and acquaintances, how they gained their trust, how they drove people out of their own homes. Zlata tried to interrupt her, shouted that her daughter was lying, but the facts were undeniable.
In the end, the court delivered its verdict. Zlata Feoktistovna received three years in a general-regime penal colony, Evelina got a two-year suspended sentence with mandatory community service. In addition, they were ordered to pay compensation to all the victims. The total amount was astronomical.
“But we don’t have that kind of money!” Zlata screamed when she heard the amount.
“In that case all your property will be seized,” the judge replied calmly. “Your apartment, your car, your bank accounts. Everything will go toward paying off the debt.”
Evelina collapsed onto the bench and burst into tears. Her mother stared into space with glassy eyes.
At that moment Valentina and Alexei were leaving a movie theater. They had just watched a comedy and were laughing at the best jokes.
“You know,” Valentina said, “I’m glad it all turned out this way. If your relatives hadn’t shown up, we would’ve just kept drifting apart.”
“Kind of shock therapy,” Alexei agreed. “Though I’d have preferred a less radical method.”
They walked down the evening street, holding hands. Streetlights cast long shadows, shop windows glowed with light. Just an ordinary evening in a big city where every passerby has their own story, their own drama or comedy.
“Alexei,” Valentina suddenly asked, “did you really record them on a dictaphone?”
Her husband gave her a sly smile.
“What do you think?”
“I think you didn’t. You were bluffing.”
“Maybe. But they believed me, and that’s what matters.”
“You sly fox. And what if they’d demanded proof?”
“Then I would’ve played them the recording of today’s little concert. I really did turn on the recorder when I heard the shouting in the stairwell. Just not on the shelf behind the books, in my jacket pocket.”
Valentina laughed.
“You’re impossible! And I actually believed the part about the shelf.”
“The main thing is, they believed it. And finally got out of our lives.”
At home they were greeted by blessed silence. No strange voices, no foreign things scattered around the apartment. Just their home, their space, their life.
Valentina turned on some music—light jazz they both loved. Alexei opened a bottle of wine they had bought the previous year for their anniversary but never opened because of yet another argument.
“To us,” he said, raising his glass.
“To us,” Valentina echoed. “And to no more aunts with daughters bursting into our lives.”
They clinked glasses and drank. The wine was dry, with notes of cherry and oak. The perfect end to a strange day.
A month later, Valentina came across a short piece in the crime section online. “Mother and daughter convicted for series of frauds,” the headline read. The article mentioned Zlata Feoktistovna and Evelina Kosmacheva, their schemes to swindle relatives, the trial and the sentence.
She showed the article to Alexei.
“Look, your relatives are in the news. They’re celebrities now. Though of a very dubious kind.”
Alexei skimmed the text.
“They deserved it. Though I almost feel a little sorry for them. They could’ve lived a normal life, worked… but they chose the easy way. And here’s the result.”
“The easy way rarely leads anywhere good,” Valentina remarked philosophically.
“That’s for sure. By the way, remember the big project at work I told you about?”
“Yes, the one the whole department was working on.”
“We finished it. And it went so well that the company landed a three-year contract. And I got promoted to head of the department.”
“Alexei! That’s wonderful! Why didn’t you tell me right away?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise. We’ll have more money now, and I’ll be able to spend less time at the office. No more working till midnight.”
Valentina hugged her husband.
“The main thing isn’t the money. The main thing is that we’re together again. Really together.”
“FOREVER,” Alexei added, and the word sounded like a vow.
Outside, snow was falling. The first snow of the winter, light and airy. It covered the city with a white blanket, hiding the dirt and grayness underneath. A new beginning, a clean slate.
And somewhere far away, in a cold cell at a pre-trial detention center, Zlata Feoktistovna sat on a hard bunk and wondered where it had all gone wrong. Next to her, her cellmate—a hefty woman convicted of robbery—snored loudly.
“Hey, new girl,” the woman suddenly said without opening her eyes. “I heard you went around mooching off relatives, taking their money?”
“None of your business,” Zlata snapped.
“It is my business, since we’re roommates now. You know, people in here don’t like that kind. Going after relatives is the lowest of the low.”
Zlata stayed silent. What could she say? That she’d spent her whole life envying those who had money? That she felt cheated by fate and decided to “restore justice”?
Three years later, Zlata Feoktistovna was released and returned to her daughter in a cramped rented studio—their own apartment had been sold to cover the damages awarded in court. Now every evening mother and daughter had screaming matches, blaming each other for the collapse of their “business,” and the neighbors regularly banged on the wall in protest at the noise.
At the same time, Valentina was rocking a baby boy in her arms, Alexei was happily taking pictures of the child’s first steps, and their home was filled with the kind of true family happiness that no one could ever take away.
