“My sons are entitled to exactly one-third of your pharmacy chain, and I’m not backing down.”
Veronika carelessly tossed her expensive light-colored coat over the back of a chair in a deliberately theatrical manner. She sat down across from Margarita’s desk and crossed her legs. Everything about her expressed complete confidence that she was in the right.
Margarita pushed the invoices aside. She was sitting in the back office of her very first pharmacy. It wasn’t a warehouse or anything special—just an ordinary room with a computer and cabinets full of documents. She liked coming here because it allowed her to quietly balance the books.
“Hello, Veronika.”
“Let’s skip the polite formalities,” the young widow waved dismissively. “Vyacheslav is gone, but the children are still here. The boys need something to live on. They’re used to a certain standard of living.”
Margarita leaned back slightly in her chair. Her ex-husband had died three months earlier. They had divorced four years ago. Almost immediately afterward, Vyacheslav had left her for the energetic and ambitious Veronika. They never officially married, but Vyacheslav had acknowledged both of their sons as his own.
“Please accept my condolences,” Margarita said evenly. “But I don’t understand what my pharmacy chain has to do with this.”
“It has everything to do with it because it was jointly acquired marital property!” Veronika leaned forward. “You and Slava built this empire together. He was your full partner. Half of the business rightfully belonged to him. Which means that half must now be divided among his heirs. My children are entitled to two-thirds of his share.”
“Vyacheslav was a partner?” Margarita raised one eyebrow almost imperceptibly.
“Exactly!” Veronika replied defiantly. “He told me everything himself. He devoted his life to this business. He ruined his health for it.”
Margarita listened carefully without interrupting. Vyacheslav had indeed loved telling colorful stories. Around his friends, he always portrayed himself as the chief strategist, the invisible investor, and the man who had saved the business.
“The math is very simple, Veronika. Vyacheslav didn’t own a share. None at all.”
“Don’t try to talk your way out of this,” Veronika smirked. “The sole proprietorship was registered while you were married. The law is on the children’s side. I’ve already consulted competent people. And I’ve filed a complaint with the guardianship authorities.”
Margarita remained silent.
“They’ll be very interested,” Veronika continued pressing her, “in why a wealthy ex-wife is trying to leave orphans without a penny. There will be inspections. Tax authorities. Audits. I’ll have your entire accounting history for the last ten years examined. You’ll be writing explanations every single day.”
Veronika stood up and picked up her coat.
“It would be better to settle this amicably. I’ll send you the bank details. And I’ll send my appraiser to calculate one-third of the value of the pharmacy chain. I expect your answer by the end of the week.”
She left the office, leaving behind the heavy scent of her sweet perfume.
The next day, Margarita was sitting in a small Italian café on the avenue. Boris sat across from her. He had handled the pharmacy chain’s legal affairs for the past five years.
“It’s an unpleasant situation,” Boris said as he looked through the notes in his notebook. “The common-law wife has decided to go on the offensive. Using the guardianship authorities is a dirty move, but it can work. They really can initiate a large number of inspections.”
“On what grounds?” Margarita pushed her coffee cup away.
“On the grounds of protecting the rights of underage heirs. Your sole proprietorship was registered one month after your wedding to Vyacheslav. Under the Family Code, everything acquired during marriage is divided equally. You divorced, but you never went to court to divide the property. That works in her favor.”
Boris took a sip of water.
“She can easily have the statute of limitations on the property division restored by arguing that she is protecting the interests of minor children.”
“And what could she actually win?”
“If she proves that the business was created using marital funds, then potentially half the value of the assets as of the date of his death. More precisely, the children’s share of that half. Your assets are substantial. The premises are rented, but the equipment is worth quite a lot.”
Margarita looked at the cars passing outside the café window.
“So everything comes down to whose money was used to buy the equipment?”
“Exactly. If it was purchased using joint marital income, then you have a serious problem. The guardianship authorities will hold on like bulldogs. Their job is to protect children at almost any cost.”
“I see.”
Margarita pulled a thin plastic folder from her bag.
“Take a look at this.”
She placed several sheets of paper on the table.
“What is this?” the lawyer asked, pulling the documents closer.
“A copy of Vyacheslav’s employment record. And one more interesting document.”
Boris quickly scanned the lines. The corners of his mouth slowly turned upward.
“This changes everything, Rita. She’s bluffing with someone else’s cards.”
Margarita didn’t wait for any official summons. On Friday morning, she called Veronika herself.
“We need to meet,” Margarita said dryly. “By the end of the week, just as you requested. Come to the café on Lenin Street. I’ll be there in an hour.”
Veronika arrived fully prepared for battle. Bright makeup, perfect hair, and an arrogant expression. She carried herself as though she had already received the keys to several pharmacies and had merely come to discuss changing the signs.
She sat down across from Margarita.
“I’m glad you had enough common sense not to drag this into court,” Veronika said, placing her phone on the table. “Have you prepared the documents for my appraiser?”
“I prepared different documents.”
Margarita spoke evenly, without emotion. She placed the first document on the table.
“You claim that the business was created using marital funds. And that Vyacheslav sacrificed his health for it.”
“That’s a fact,” Veronika snapped.
“Read this. It’s a copy of a loan agreement dated March twelfth. It was for a substantial sum. The designated-purpose loan was taken out personally by me as an individual. The money was used to purchase those very Pharma-Kholod refrigeration units, cash registers, and display cases. Those were the core assets of my sole proprietorship.”
Veronika quickly scanned the document.
“The loan was repaid during the marriage!” she immediately countered. “That means the money was shared marital property. You were using the family budget.”
“No.”
Margarita placed a second document on the table.
“The loan was paid off in full with a single payment in August of that same year. The money came from the sale of an apartment I had owned before the marriage, on the outskirts of the city. Here is the apartment sale agreement.”
Veronika stopped playing with the strap of her handbag. She stared closely at the dates.
“My marriage to Vyacheslav wasn’t officially registered until November,” Margarita said, looking directly at her. “Which means all of the expensive equipment had been purchased and completely paid for with my personal premarital funds. Three months before we ever went to the registry office.”
“But he worked there!” Veronika raised her voice, attracting the attention of a couple sitting at the next table. “He unloaded those refrigerators! He injured his back working for you! He was your partner!”
Margarita calmly placed the final document on the table.
“Yes, he unloaded them.”
She pushed the paper closer to Veronika.
“This is an extract from Vyacheslav’s employment record. He was officially employed by my company as a loader and delivery driver. His salary was thirty-five thousand rubles a month.”
Veronika stared at the document without blinking.
“He wasn’t a partner, Veronika. He was a salaried employee. And he was properly paid for that injured back of his twice a month, signing the payroll records every time.”
The table fell completely silent.
“You can go to the guardianship authorities,” Margarita said as she gathered the papers back into the folder. “You can hire lawyers and demand an audit. But the moment I show these three documents to any judge, your lawsuit will collapse the same day. And the court will make you pay the legal costs and my lawyers’ fees.”
Veronika sat motionless. All her arrogance had disappeared. The beautiful story about her businessman husband—the story Vyacheslav had been feeding her for years—had just shattered against the cold dates printed on official documents.
“He said…” Veronika muttered. “He said you cheated him during the divorce.”
“He said a lot of things.”
Margarita stood up from the table.
“Goodbye.”
A couple of months later, Margarita happened to see Veronika near a large shopping center.
No lawsuit was ever filed.
The threats involving the guardianship authorities turned out to be nothing more than empty noise.
It is always easy—and satisfying—to demand what belongs to someone else, right up until the moment you have to prove your rights with a calculator and documents in your hands.
