«You’ll pay yourself, not a maid!» » — the mother-in-law laughed, secretly hanging a debt on her daughter-in-law. But in the morning, a trap and an old daddy waited for her
The press mannequin with a loud hissing released a thick cloud of the couple. Margarita wiped her wet forehead with the back of her palm and reached for the next heavy coat. In the dry cleaning shop there was an unbearable odor, stinking of heated wet wool and edible chemicals. The shift was coming to an end, my legs just fell off, I wanted only one thing — to sit somewhere straight on the floor.
The phone in the pocket of the work overalls briefly rang, and then began to vibrate non-stop. The room was unfamiliar. Rita reluctantly moved the screen slider.
— Margarita Sergeyevna? — the voice on the other end of the wire sounded dry, measured and too official. — Pre-trial retrieval service. Your debt is transferred to our department due to a long overdue delay. If the funds do not arrive by the end of the week, we will launch the compulsory discharge procedure and leave at the place of registration.
Rita stopped ironing her coat collar. The ventilation noise in the shop seems to have gone away.
«You made a mistake,» she said, trying to yell the noise of cars. — I have no loans. Not one at all.
— Errors are ruled out,» waited a male voice. — The contract was signed two months ago in the office of the financial company. Your passport details ..
The person in the tube monotonously read the series, number, date of issuance and exact address. Kurchatov Street, house twelve. This was the apartment of Antonina Pavlovna, her mother-in-law. The apartment in which Rita and Oleg lived for the last four years, trying to put it on a mortgage.
— I didn’t sign any contracts! — Rita pressed the phone to her ear. — These are crooks!
— Deal with the lender. Our business is to collect the debt. Good bye.
Short hornets. Rita put her hand down with the phone. My throat has just dried up. A huge debt. In her name.
She tried to remember the last time she held her passport. A month and a half ago. I was picking up my order letter at the post office, came home and shoved the document into an old wooden box that was dusty on the top shelf of mine and Oleg’s room.
Rita didn’t remember how she changed and came home. There was only one thought in my head.
The hallway smelled of fried squash and old rugs. Antonina Pavlovna sat in a chair in front of the TV, without taking her eyes off the evening talk show.
— Be more careful, I only swept the floors, — without turning my head, my mother-in-law said.
Rita quietly walked into her room and closed the door tightly. I got up on the stool, reached for the top shelf and opened the box. SNILS, insurance policy, warranty coupons for equipment. There was no maroon passport cover.
She ripped off all the papers on the bed. Empty. Rita began to methodically go through things in the closet. Shelves with sweaters, shoe-boxes. At the bottom, under a pack of winter blankets, her fingers came across a thick sheet of paper.
She got him rolling. That was a crooked photocopy. The cap read: «Consumer Loan Agreement». The borrower is Margarita Sergeyevna. There was so much money that Rita would have to give away all her salary from a dry cleaner for a few years, staying on the same water. There was a signature at the bottom of the letter. Looks like her own, but with a different tilt. Rita has never signed up like that.
The leaf was slightly shaking in the hands. She folded him in half and hid it in a pocket of her house pants.
Oleg came back late. Lately, his auto parts store has suffered only losses: suppliers demanded an advance payment, there were no customers, and debts accumulated for renting the premises. He went to the kitchen, poured some water on himself, and when tired he sat down on the stool.
— Oleg, look here,» asked Rita quietly, sitting opposite.
She took a photocopy out of her pocket and put it on a glue stick in front of him.
— I received a call from the seekers today. I have a huge debt. My passport disappeared from the box, and I found this paper hidden under the things in our closet.
Oleg rested his eyes on the printing. Rita watched closely his every move. He was not surprised. Did not jump in with indignation, did not suggest to call the police immediately. He just nervously rubbed the carrier and took a look towards the window.
— Yes, this is some sort of divorce, — he went through uncertainly. — Now databases are being drained everywhere. Never mind, we’ll figure it out tomorrow.
— A divorce? — Rita has come forward. — Oleg, this paper was in our closet. Someone took my passport out of the room and went into the office and signed it. Who could have done this? Did the neighbors come down from the ceiling?
Oleg angrily moved the glass away.
— Rita, you always lose everything and forget! I was taking the documents myself, pushing them somewhere, and now you’re panicking. Mom also says that you’ve been a bit of a rag lately.
— Mom says so ? — Rita slowly straightened herself. — How does mom know I have problems if I haven’t said a word to her?
Oleg is off the hook. Silence in the kitchen has become heavy, unpleasant.
— I am… I told her that the guys at the market had such cases! — he was quickly found, abruptly getting up from behind the table. — Stop taking my brain out! I’m tired as a dog. Let’s go to bed… Continuation below in the first comment
The press mannequin released a thick cloud of steam with a loud hiss. Margarita wiped her damp forehead with the back of her hand and reached for the next heavy coat. The dry-cleaning workshop was unbearably stuffy, reeking of heated wet wool and harsh chemicals. Her shift was almost over, her legs felt like they were about to give out, and all she wanted was to sit down somewhere—right on the floor if necessary.
The phone in the pocket of her work overalls gave a short chime, then began vibrating nonstop. The number was unfamiliar. Rita reluctantly slid her finger across the screen.
“Margarita Sergeyevna?” The voice on the other end sounded dry, measured, and far too official. “This is the pre-trial debt collection department. Your debt has been transferred to our office due to prolonged overdue payments. If the funds are not received by the end of the week, we will initiate compulsory withdrawal proceedings and visit your registered address.”
Rita stopped smoothing the coat collar. The noise of the ventilation system in the workshop seemed to drift away.
“You have the wrong person,” she said, trying to speak over the hum of the machines. “I don’t have any loans. Not a single one.”
“There is no mistake,” the male voice snapped. “The contract was issued two months ago at the office of the financial company. Your passport details…”
The man on the phone monotonously read out the series, number, date of issue, and exact address. Kurchatov Street, building twelve. That was the apartment of Antonina Pavlovna, her mother-in-law. The apartment where Rita and Oleg had been living for the past four years while trying to save up for a mortgage.
“I didn’t sign any contracts!” Rita pressed the phone tightly to her ear. “This is fraud!”
“Take it up with the creditor. Our job is to collect the debt. Goodbye.”
Short beeps followed. Rita lowered the phone. Her throat went dry. A huge debt. In her name.
She tried to remember the last time she had held her passport in her hands. About a month and a half ago. She had picked up a registered letter at the post office, come home, and put the document into an old wooden box that was gathering dust on the top shelf in the room she shared with Oleg.
Rita did not remember changing clothes or getting home. Only one thought spun around in her head.
The hallway smelled of fried zucchini and old carpets. Antonina Pavlovna was sitting in an armchair in front of the television, her eyes fixed on an evening talk show.
“Take your shoes off carefully. I just mopped the floors,” her mother-in-law ordered without turning her head.
Rita silently went into her room and shut the door firmly behind her. She climbed onto a stool, reached the top shelf, and opened the box. Her pension insurance card, medical insurance policy, warranty papers for appliances. The burgundy passport cover was not there.
She shook all the papers out onto the bed. Nothing. Rita began methodically going through the things in the wardrobe. Shelves with sweaters, boxes of shoes. At the very bottom, under a stack of winter blankets, her fingers touched a thick sheet of paper. She unfolded it. It was a crooked photocopy. At the top, it read: “Consumer Loan Agreement.” Borrower: Margarita Sergeyevna. The amount was so large that Rita would have had to give away her entire dry-cleaning salary for several years, surviving on water alone. At the bottom of the page was a signature. It resembled her own, but the slant was different. Rita never signed like that.
The sheet trembled slightly in her hands. She folded it into four and hid it in the pocket of her house pants.
Oleg came home late. Lately, his auto parts shop had been bringing in nothing but losses: suppliers demanded advance payment, there were no customers, and rent debts kept piling up. He walked into the kitchen, poured himself some water, and sank wearily onto a stool.
“Oleg, look at this,” Rita said quietly, sitting down across from him.
She took the photocopy from her pocket and placed it in front of him on the oilcloth-covered table.
“Debt collectors called me today. There’s a huge debt in my name. My passport is missing from the box, and I found this paper hidden under things in our wardrobe.”
Oleg lowered his eyes to the printout. Rita watched his every movement closely. He was not surprised. He did not jump up in outrage, did not offer to call the police immediately. He simply rubbed the bridge of his nose nervously and looked away toward the window.
“It’s probably some kind of scam,” he said uncertainly. “Databases get leaked everywhere these days. Don’t worry about it. We’ll sort it out tomorrow.”
“A scam?” Rita leaned forward. “Oleg, this paper was in our wardrobe. Someone took my passport from our room, went to some office, and signed the contract. Who could have done that? Did the neighbors come down through the ceiling?”
Oleg pushed his glass away irritably.
“Rita, you’re always losing and forgetting everything! You probably took the documents yourself, shoved them somewhere, and now you’re causing panic. Mom also says you’ve been kind of nervous lately.”
“Mom says?” Rita slowly straightened. “And how does Mom know I have problems if I haven’t said a word to her?”
Oleg faltered. The silence in the kitchen grew heavy and unpleasant.
“I… I told her that the guys at the market had cases like this!” he quickly came up with an answer, abruptly getting up from the table. “Stop messing with my head! I’m tired as a dog. Let’s go to bed.”
He hurried off to the bedroom. Rita remained sitting in the dim kitchen. Understanding came gradually, destroying everything she had believed in over the past years. He knew. The man with whom she had planned a future knew that she had been set up.
That night, Rita lay with her eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the sleeping apartment. Around two in the morning, the mattress creaked softly. Oleg carefully got up and tiptoed into the hallway. Rita waited a minute, silently lowered her feet to the floor, and approached the half-open kitchen door.
From inside came a hurried, angry whisper.
“I told you not to keep that paper at home!” Oleg’s voice was breaking from tension. “Why did you leave it there at all?”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Antonina Pavlovna answered sternly and confidently. “I wanted to copy the payment schedule so I wouldn’t mix up the dates. I didn’t think she’d go digging on the lower shelves. Tell her someone planted it or that she forgot it herself.”
“Mom, she’ll go file a police report! Why did you even put it in her name?”
“And whose name was I supposed to use?!” the mother-in-law hissed so loudly that the dishes in the drying rack clinked. “Yours? You’ve got overdue payments everywhere; they wouldn’t even give you money for an iron! My pension is pennies. Did your shop need saving or not? Did the rent debts need covering or not? Her credit history is clean. The perfect option.”
“But they check the photograph!”
“Svetka from the pawnshop near the market works at that office. She and I slaved away at the same factory workshop for fifteen years. She pushed it through through her channels and turned a blind eye to the photo. I thanked her in cash, and everything is clean.”
“But the debt is huge…”
“We’ll pay it back! Gradually. And if she starts making trouble, I’ll tell all the neighbors that she secretly spent that money on expensive things behind her husband’s back. Who will they believe, some girl from a dry cleaner’s or me? Let her sit quietly and be grateful she lives in decent conditions.”
Rita stepped back into the shadow of the hallway. They were discussing her ruined life as casually as prices for potatoes at the market. Not a drop of regret. Only cold calculation.
In the morning, as soon as Oleg left for work, Rita began to act. Antonina Pavlovna disappeared into the bathroom. Her large faux-leather bag was hanging on the coat rack in the hallway.
Rita unzipped the metal zipper. A wallet, prescriptions from the clinic, a bunch of keys… and a thick file. Inside lay her burgundy passport, and beside it, the original contract with a wet stamp.
She managed to photograph the documents on her phone and slip the passport into the pocket of her robe when the bathroom latch clicked. Antonina Pavlovna came out into the hallway, wiping her face with a towel. Seeing her daughter-in-law near her bag, she was not embarrassed in the slightest. On the contrary, her lips twisted into a condescending smirk.
“Well? Did you conduct your search?” the mother-in-law asked calmly.
“You stole my documents. You put your debts in my name and conspired with your friend,” Rita’s voice sounded unnaturally even. She took her phone out of her pocket and discreetly pressed the voice recorder button.
Antonina Pavlovna folded her arms across her chest.
“I was saving my son’s business. The family needed money. You use my water, you live under my roof. Consider it your rent.”
“I’m going to the police.”
Her mother-in-law simply burst out laughing, throwing her head back.
“You’ll pay it off yourself, you’re no fine lady!” she declared. “Go ahead, complain. Just keep in mind: I’ll say you asked me to keep your documents for you. I’ll say you took the money and spent it. Oleg will confirm every word I say. And Svetka will say you came yourself, wearing glasses and a hood. You have no witnesses and no proof. We’ll see who they listen to.”
Rita silently turned and went into the room. She pressed the stop button on the recording. The file was saved.
That evening, Rita returned from work and saw a strange scene on the stair landing. Right by the door stood two huge black bags with her belongings, tightly wrapped with tape, and her travel bag. The apartment door was wide open. Antonina Pavlovna stood on the threshold, and behind her, Oleg avoided looking Rita in the eye.
“I decided not to wait until you started ruining our nerves,” the mother-in-law announced defiantly. “Take your rags and get out. I don’t want even a trace of you here.”
“Oleg?” Rita looked at her husband. “You’re going to let her throw me out onto the street with your debt?”
Oleg stared at the floor, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Rita, it’ll be better this way… Mom is very nervous. Stay with someone for now, and later we’ll figure everything out.”
Rita gave a bitter smile. There was no disappointment or pity left inside her. Only cold clarity.
“You’re kicking me out?” Rita took out her phone. “Then let’s hear what the law thinks about that.”
She turned the audio recording on at full volume. Antonina Pavlovna’s nasty voice rang out across the whole stairwell: “Svetka pushed it through through her channels and turned a blind eye to the photo. I thanked her in cash… You’ll pay it off yourself, you’re no fine lady!”
Her mother-in-law’s face fell. She lunged forward, trying to snatch the phone.
“Give it to me right now! You little snake!”
“Don’t touch me!” Rita jerked back toward the railing.
At the noise, the door of the neighboring apartment swung open. Vera Mikhailovna appeared on the threshold—a stern pensioner and former math teacher who had lived in the building for more than thirty years.
“What circus is this on the landing?” she demanded.
“Vera Mikhailovna, forgive us, it’s a family matter!” Antonina Pavlovna immediately began to fawn. “My daughter-in-law is making a scene. We’re throwing her out.”
“A family matter?” The neighbor narrowed her eyes, studying the discarded bags. “Tonya, I’ve known you for a long time. Your own daughter ran away from you with nothing but the clothes on her back and wants nothing to do with you. And now you’ve thrown this girl out onto the stairs too? Come into my place, Rita. And you”—she shot a sharp look at the others—“I’ll speak to you later.”
Rita dragged her belongings into the stranger’s hallway. Vera Mikhailovna’s apartment was modestly furnished but very tidy. It smelled of brewed rosehip tea. After listening to Rita’s story, the neighbor sighed heavily and shook her head.
“I knew she would go back to her old tricks. Rita, do you know why Inna, Oleg’s older sister, left for another city five years ago and cut all ties?”
Rita shook her head. Oleg had always avoided answering questions about his sister, brushing them off with phrases about an “ungrateful relative.”
“When Oleg’s father became very ill, and then passed away, Antonina pulled off a very shady scheme,” Vera Mikhailovna said quietly. “She took out a large loan in her husband’s name during those three days before his information had been entered into the general database. She bribed someone. And Inna had to pay for it. She gave up all the savings she had set aside for a down payment on a home just to keep her mother out of court. Then she packed her things and left forever.”
Rita froze.
“Do you know how to contact her?”
Vera Mikhailovna took an old worn notebook out of the nightstand.
“Call her. Tell her it’s from me.”
Inna did not answer right away. After hearing Rita out, she was silent for a long time, then said in a short, clipped tone:
“I’ll be there early tomorrow morning. Wait for me.”
The next morning, Inna really did arrive. She was a tall, tired-looking woman whose features bore a resemblance to Oleg’s, but her eyes held a steel-hard resolve.
The three of them—Rita, Inna, and Vera Mikhailovna—crossed the stairwell and opened the door to Antonina Pavlovna’s apartment without knocking. Rita had not returned the keys yet.
Her mother-in-law and Oleg were sitting in the kitchen. When Antonina Pavlovna saw her daughter, she turned as white as if she had seen a ghost.
“Inna? You… what brings you here?”
“I came to see how you’re breaking other people’s lives again,” Inna walked to the center of the room. “Was what happened with Father not enough for you? Decided to practice on your daughter-in-law?”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about…” the mother-in-law muttered, backing toward the windowsill.
“You understand perfectly!” Inna’s voice cut through the morning silence. She pulled a thick old folder from her bag and threw it onto the kitchen table. “I brought bank statements from five years ago. The very ones showing how I covered up your theft. Rita has already prepared a statement for the security department. We have an audio recording where you name your accomplice Svetlana. That Svetlana will be charged and will hand you over completely during the first interrogation.”
Oleg sank into his stool, not daring to raise his eyes to either his sister or his wife.
“You have two choices,” Inna said, enunciating every word. She placed a blank sheet of paper and a ballpoint pen beside the folder. “Either you write a confession right now to the security department of that office, stating that you took someone else’s documents and illegally put the debt in their name through the employee Svetlana… or Rita and I are going straight from here to the authorities. And I will add the contents of this folder to her case. You won’t get away with this again.”
The room became very quiet. Only the ticking of the wall clock could be heard. Antonina Pavlovna shifted her hunted gaze from her daughter to her daughter-in-law, then to the neighbor, who pursed her lips in contempt. She looked at her son.
“Oleg… tell them… I was doing it for you…”
But Oleg only lowered his head onto his folded arms, shutting himself off from everyone. At that moment, his mother realized she had lost completely. All her arrogance and haughtiness disappeared, leaving only a shrunken, frightened woman behind.
With trembling fingers, she took the pen. Tears of helplessness dripped onto the paper, blurring the blue ink. She wrote for a long time, stopping now and then and sniffling, as if hoping someone would take pity on her and stop her. No one said a word.
When the text was finished, Rita took the sheet, read it carefully, and photographed it on her phone.
“Today, the originals will be on the desk of the head of security at your financial office,” Rita said, putting the document into her bag. “They’ll cancel this debt themselves to avoid inspections by regulatory authorities over issuing money using forged information and collusion. And as for you, Antonina Pavlovna, they’ll deal with you personally.”
Rita stopped in the doorway and cast one final glance at Oleg.
“And you’ll spend your whole life hiding behind your mother. I have nothing more to do here.”
She left the apartment, and the pressure in her chest finally disappeared. Outside, the sun was shining brightly, and cars hurried past. Rita got into a taxi and gave the driver a new address.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. A message from Oleg appeared on the screen: “Rita, come back. Let’s discuss everything calmly. I’ll fix it all, I promise.”
Rita smirked, pressed “Block contact forever,” and leaned back against the seat.
Now she was her own mistress, and there was no longer any room in her plans for betrayal or other people’s debts.
