“Vitya sends you huge amounts of money for his daughter, and you can’t even provide receipts!” Alina Vitoldovna shrieked over the phone.
Veronika pulled the phone away from her ear.
“What exactly do you mean?” she asked, already knowing where the conversation was going.
“My son works himself to exhaustion, gives you the last of what he has, and you waste it! I want receipts for every ruble!”
It was barely six in the morning. Four-year-old Lyuba was still asleep, and Veronika had less than an hour before she needed to get her daughter ready for kindergarten and leave for work.
“Alina Vitoldovna, seven thousand rubles isn’t a fortune,” Veronika said calmly. “Do you know how much food, clothes, kindergarten, toys, and speech therapy cost?”
“Don’t change the subject! Vitya told me you bought yourself a new jacket. Was that with his child support?”
At that moment, Lyuba appeared in the doorway, sleepy and clutching her stuffed rabbit.
Veronika ended the call.
“Was that Grandma Alina?” Lyuba asked.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Veronika said, forcing a smile. “She was sending you her love.”
It was a lie, but Veronika had long since learned to shield her daughter from adult conflicts.
Two years had passed since her divorce from Vitya, yet his mother still behaved as if she had the right to supervise Veronika’s life.
When Veronika had married Vitya four years earlier, she thought she had found the perfect man. He was handsome, attentive, and charming. Her friends had warned her that his relationship with his mother was unusually close, but Veronika had dismissed their concerns.
She regretted that now.
During their marriage, Vitya handed most of his salary to his mother “for safekeeping,” leaving Veronika struggling to cover household expenses. When Lyuba was only a few months old, he pressured Veronika to return to work.
“What are you doing sitting at home?” he had complained. “You aren’t bringing money into the family.”
Yet when Veronika asked for money for baby food, he acted as if she were begging for luxury.
After the divorce, the situation barely improved. Vitya paid seven thousand rubles a month in child support and behaved as if he were financing an extravagant lifestyle.
That afternoon at work, Veronika received another message from Alina Vitoldovna.
“Send the receipts by tonight. If you refuse, we’ll go to court.”
Her colleague Larisa noticed her expression.
“Your former mother-in-law again?”
“Who else?” Veronika sighed. “She wants an accounting for seven thousand rubles. I spend more than that on Lyuba’s speech therapist.”
“And what does Vitya say?”
“That his mother is right.”
Larisa shook her head.
Before they could continue, the company director, Igor Semyonovich, appeared.
“Veronika Andreyevna, please come to my office.”
Her stomach tightened.
Inside, he gestured for her to sit.
“I received two calls this morning from a woman named Alina Vitoldovna. She claims you’re misusing her son’s money.”
Veronika flushed with humiliation.
“I’m sorry. She had no right to involve my workplace.”
After hearing the full story, Igor Semyonovich surprised her.
“My daughter is around your age and went through something similar,” he said. “I know how difficult raising a child alone can be.”
Then he opened a folder.
“I actually wanted to discuss something else with you. Beginning Monday, you’re moving to a new department with a thirty-percent salary increase. We’re also introducing flexible hours and partial kindergarten reimbursement for employees with children.”
Veronika stared at him.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. You earned it.”
Then he smiled.
“And if your former mother-in-law calls again, our legal department will deal with her.”
For the first time that day, Veronika felt she could breathe.
That evening, while picking Lyuba up from kindergarten, she ran into Svetlana, an old family friend.
“You won’t believe who I saw yesterday,” Svetlana said. “Vitya. Driving a brand-new SUV.”
Veronika frowned.
“He told me he can barely afford his bills.”
Svetlana looked surprised.
“You didn’t know? He was promoted two months ago. Seryozha says his salary tripled.”
Veronika froze.
Two months.
For two months, Vitya had been earning far more money while continuing to pay the same tiny amount in child support.
That night, she called her mother.
“Go to court,” Marina Pavlovna said immediately. “Stop being afraid of them. This isn’t about you. It’s about Lyuba.”
The next day, Veronika visited a lawyer named Elena.
“We need proof of his actual income,” Elena explained. “His promotion, the car, the apartment if he bought one, witnesses from work. Then we request a recalculation of child support.”
Veronika nodded.
For years, she had avoided confrontation because she wanted peace.
Now she realized peace obtained through silence was not really peace.
That Saturday, when Vitya came to see Lyuba, Veronika asked him to sit down.
“I know about your promotion.”
His expression changed immediately.
“Who told you?”
“That doesn’t matter. Why are you still paying seven thousand rubles?”
“I have expenses!” he snapped. “Loans, a mortgage—”
“A mortgage?” Veronika repeated. “So you bought an apartment too?”
Vitya realized his mistake.
“You’re unbelievable. My mother was right. You just want money!”
“I want Lyuba to receive what she’s legally entitled to.”
“You take me to court, and I’ll stop seeing her!”
Veronika stared at him calmly.
“That’s your choice. But threatening to abandon your daughter won’t make you look good in court.”
He grabbed his jacket and stormed out.
A week later, the case moved forward.
Alina Vitoldovna sent threatening messages, but Veronika ignored them.
On the day of the hearing, Vitya arrived with his mother and a lawyer.
His side claimed there had been no significant increase in income, that his car was financed, and that his apartment had supposedly come from a distant relative.
Then a witness entered the courtroom.
Nikolai Petrov, Vitya’s deputy at work.
“Yes,” Nikolai told the judge. “Vitya was promoted to head of logistics two months ago. His salary tripled.”
Vitya went pale.
Nikolai handed the judge a copy of the official promotion order.
The judge looked at Vitya.
“Your actual monthly income is one hundred and forty thousand rubles?”
He said nothing.
Nikolai continued.
“He also told people at work that he deliberately concealed his income so he wouldn’t have to pay more child support.”
“That’s a lie!” Alina Vitoldovna shouted.
The judge silenced her immediately.
Two hours later, the decision was announced.
Vitya’s monthly child support was increased to thirty-five thousand rubles, and he was ordered to pay arrears for the months during which he had hidden his increased income.
Outside the courtroom, Pavel, a recently transferred colleague who had become Veronika’s friend, waited with flowers.
“You did the right thing,” he said.
As they left, Vitya and his mother were waiting beside their car.
“Happy now?” Vitya asked bitterly.
“This isn’t about winning,” Veronika replied. “It’s about Lyuba.”
Alina Vitoldovna looked at Pavel.
“And who is this? Your new sponsor?”
Pavel remained calm.
“Perhaps the problem is that you taught your son to see responsibility as someone taking money away from him.”
Alina Vitoldovna gasped.
For once, Vitya didn’t defend her.
“Come on, Mom,” he said quietly. “It’s over.”
Three months passed.
Veronika received another promotion. Lyuba continued speech therapy and improved quickly. Vitya paid child support regularly, while his mother stopped calling altogether.
Then one afternoon in the park, Lyuba suddenly shouted:
“Mom! Daddy!”
Vitya was walking toward them.
He looked nervous.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said when they were alone. “You were right.”
Veronika stared at him.
“What changed?”
“I met someone. She’s raising a son alone, and I saw how hard it is. I also started seeing a psychologist.”
He hesitated.
“I finally understood how much my mother controlled me. And how badly I treated you and Lyuba.”
Veronika said nothing.
“I want to be a better father,” he continued. “Can I see Lyuba more often?”
“Of course. She needs her father.”
He nodded gratefully.
“And I want to pay for her activities too. Speech therapy, drawing lessons, whatever she wants.”
“What will your mother say?”
Vitya smiled faintly.
“I finally learned to tell her no.”
A week later, he took Lyuba and Pavel’s son Misha to the zoo.
Slowly, Veronika began to trust that the change might be real.
Months later, Vitya called again.
“Natasha and I are getting married. I want us to discuss how to make this easy for Lyuba.”
To Veronika’s surprise, she felt no jealousy. Only relief.
When they eventually met Natasha, she seemed kind and thoughtful.
By September, Veronika, Pavel, Vitya, Natasha, and Marina Pavlovna could all stand together in the park while Lyuba and Misha laughed on the carousel.
“I never imagined this,” Veronika admitted.
Pavel put an arm around her shoulders.
“The important thing is that Lyuba is happy.”
Veronika watched her daughter laughing in the sunlight.
Two years earlier, she had been afraid of every phone call and every demand.
Now she had a stable career, confidence, a peaceful home, and people who respected her.
“Mommy, look how high I can swing!” Lyuba shouted.
“I see you, sweetheart!” Veronika called back. “Higher!”
Lyuba soared into the air, laughing freely.
And for the first time in years, Veronika felt just as free.