The man kicked me and our two kids out onto the street. You shouldve seen his face whenyears laterI bought his flat and his car, leaving him with nothing.
«Pack your things.»
Vadims voice was smooth, like the surface of a frozen pond. Not a crack. Not a flicker of emotion.
«Yours and the kids. I want you gone by tonight.»
I slowly looked up from the colouring book Id been filling in with five-year-old Yegor. Seven-year-old Masha was doing her homework in the next room.
«What?»
«You heard me, Lena. Im tired. This house, this marriage, the endless problems. I want to live for myself now.»
He stood there, leaning against the doorframetall, handsome, a complete stranger. The man Id spent eight years with. The father of my children.
«And us? Where am I supposed to go with Masha and Yegor?»
«The flats mine. Bought before we met. Sos the car. Youve got parentsgo to them.»
He said it like he was discussing the weekly shop. Casual. Mundane.
Masha appeared in the doorway, hearing his voice, and froze. Her wide eyes filled with fear.
«Dad?»
Vadim didnt even glance her way. His attention was fixed on me, waitingfor tears, hysterics, begging.
None of that happened.
Something inside me snapped. A thick, sturdy rope, the one that had held my life together, cracked like dry timber.
«Fine.»
One word. Quiet, but steel-hard.
His eyebrows shot up. Clearly, hed been expecting a different scene.
I stood and went to the kids, wrapping my arms around their trembling little bodies.
«Masha, Yegor, were going to stay with Granny and Grandpa for a while. Pack your favourite toys.»
I moved like clockwork. Three bags: kids clothes, documents, a few of my things.
I didnt look at him. The man Id called my husband, the father of my children, was now just a stranger whod overstayed his welcome in my world.
As I set the bags by the door, Vadim handed me a few notes.
«For petrol. And to get you started.»
Then he tossed my car keyworn keychain and allonto the side table.
«Cheers for your generosity,» I said, my voice as smooth as his had been.
I took the kids hands and walked out. At the door, I turned and met his eyes.
His face was a mix of relief and faint surprise. Hed shed dead weight, and yethed expected more of a fight.
And in that moment, I realised with crystal clarity: hed just made the biggest mistake of his life.
He saw a broken woman. He had no idea he was staring at his own financial ruin.
I said nothing. Just took one last look at his smug face and promised myself hed see me againunder very different circumstances.
The drive was endless and grey. The kids cried themselves to sleep in the back. I gripped the wheel, knuckles white.
Tears felt like a luxury I couldnt afford. Instead, something cold and hard settled in my chest.
My parents met us at the door. No questions, no fuss. Mum hugged me. DadStepanjust said, «Come in, love. Suppers on the table.»
That night, after the kids were asleep, we talked in the kitchen.
«He threw us out,» I said to the silence.
«We gathered,» Dad replied calmly. «Question iswhat now?»
It snapped me awake.
«I dont know. Ive got nothing. An economics degree I havent used in eight years. Two kids.»
«Youve got us,» Dad said firmly. «And Ive got that plot by the river. Six acres. An old farmhouse, been in the family for generations. Roofs half gone, but its standing.»
He paused, meeting my eyes. No pity there. Just a challenge.
«Youve got two choices. Sit here feeling sorry for yourselfor get up and build something. That anger in you? Use it. Not to destroy. To create. Ive got some savings. Enough to start. The rest is on you.»
The idea was mad. Mea city girlrunning a farm? But it was a chance. Not just to survive, but to build something no one could take.
«Ill do it,» I said the next morning.
«New Kingdom» greeted us with damp and neglect. Crumbling walls, a sagging roof. For a second, terror crept in. But there was no turning back.
The first few months were hell. Dad and I patched the roof, cleared rubbish, fixed fences. My soft hands turned rough. We bought five goats and twenty chickens with Dads savings.
Problems piled updried-up well, broken pump. Dad suggested calling the local handyman, Gregory.
Gregory was a solid man in his forties with tired eyes. He worked quietly, methodically. While he fixed the pump, his daughter Veronica played with my kids. His gaze softened watching them.
When the pump gurgled to life, we celebrated. I handed Gregory his pay.
«If you ever need helpjust call,» he said awkwardly. «No charge. Neighbours should look out for each other.»
That clumsy kindness meant more than money. We werent alone here.
At night, once the kids were asleep, I opened my laptop. Anger gave way to cold calculation. Selling milk and eggs at the local market? A one-way ticket to poverty.
The answer came with Mums first homemade cheese. My unique productartisanal, organic, with a story. For city folk willing to pay for quality.
I wrote a business plan. Dad looked at my spreadsheets and whistled. «Youve got a head for this.»
Selling cheese at the local market failedprices scared people. That evening, I sat on the porch, ready to quit. Gregory joined me.
«Youre aiming wrong, Lena,» he said quietly. «Your customer isnt at the market. Theyre online.»
Lightbulb moment. I didnt need to chase customerstheyd come to me.
I launched «Lenas Farm.» Gregory took photosgoats in the meadow, kids with milk, me holding cheese. I told my storyno frills, just honesty.
It worked. First order came from an eco-café in town. I delivered it myself. The owner tasted the cheese and said, «Well take it all. And well sign a long-term deal.»
Driving home, I cried with joy. First real money. First brick in my empires foundation.
But reality hit fast. Five goats werent enough. Expansion needed cash.
I rewrote my plan and applied for a start-up grant. The panelfive sceptical meneyed me, the city girl, with doubt.
I pitched my market, profitability, job creation. My voice shook, but I stood firm. They believed me. I got the grant.
With it, we bought twenty more goats, built a new barn and a small dairy.
Gregory oversaw constructionorganising, problem-solving. He became my partner. First in business, then in life.
We married quietlyjust a registry office. Our family grew: Masha, Yegor, and his Veronica, now inseparable.
But business isnt smooth sailing. A year later, disease took three of our best goats. Losses were brutal. I nearly quit.
«Dont even think about it,» Gregory said, gripping my hand. «Well get through this.»
And we did. Took a loan, hired a vet. I learnednever rely on one product. So we started agrotourism. Built two guest cabins. City folk came for weekendspeace, fresh air, real food.
Meanwhile, I handled the legal side. Gregory recommended a sharp lawyer, Andrew Kovalev. He helped with paperwork, trademarks. I told him my story.
«Want to file for child support?» he asked.
«I want more,» I said. «Track my exs finances. Loans, debts, deals. Ill pay for the intel.»
Kovalev raised an eyebrow but agreed. My five-year plan began.
Fast forward.
The call came as I stood in our new housebuilt on the hill.
«Elena Stepanovna? Its Kovalev. Its done. The auctions over.»
I closed my eyes.
«And?»
«Flat and car belonging to Vadim Sergeyevich Smirnov now belong to holding company Active-Guarantee as debt repayment. Congratulations.»
Active-Guaranteemy company, set up a year ago on Kovalevs advice.
«Thank you, Andrew. Proceed as discussed.»
Gregory stepped onto the porch.
«Done?»
«Yes.»
«You going?»
«I have to.»
Vadim stood in his now-empty flat. After I left, hed revelled in his freedom for a year. Then hed chased quick moneyinvested in a pyramid scheme, took loans against his flat, then his car. Went bankrupt.
«Who?» he rasped, staring at the bailiff. «Who bought my flat?»
Just then, my Land Rover pulled up. I stepped outcalm, assured.
He didnt recognise me at first.
«Lena? Whathere to gloat?»
«No, Vadim. Im here for my keys.»
He stared blankly.
«What keys?»
«To my flat. And my car.»
It hit him slowly. Thenlike lightning.
«Active-Guarantee?» he whispered.
I nodded.
And then I saw itthe look Id imagined that awful night. No hate. Just raw terror. His arrogance peeled away, leaving nothing.
«Buthow? You weresome village»
«Yes, Vadim. A village. While you were living for yourself, I was working.»
I held out my hand.
«Keys.»
He handed them over like an automaton.
I turned and walked to the car without looking back. No joy in revengejust cold satisfaction.
Gregory waited inside. So did the kidsnow older.
«All done, Mum?» Masha asked.
«All done. Lets go home.»
That flat wasnt home. Just an asset. Security for my kids future.
My real home? Where the air smelled of hay and goats cheese. Where the man I loved held my hand.
I hadnt built a business. Id built a fortress.
And now, its walls were unbreakable.
