Father-in-law tried to evict his daughter-in-law, but he had no idea about the secret will
“I’m giving you exactly one week to move out. And make sure you don’t leave a single scratch on the laminate when you take your things out. The furniture my mother and I bought stays here.”
The thick, commanding voice of her father-in-law echoed through the spacious entryway, bouncing off the shiny new mirrors. Viktor Stepanovich stood in the hallway, not bothering to take off his outdoor shoes, and pointed imperiously at the built-in closet. Next to him, his eldest daughter Marina—Elena’s sister-in-law—shifted from foot to foot, pursing her lips in distaste.
Elena froze, kitchen towel in hand. The scent of freshly baked apple pie, which had made the apartment feel warm and cozy just a moment ago, now seemed suffocating. She stared at her father-in-law’s dirty shoe prints on the light porcelain tile, which she and her husband Misha had laid themselves, and couldn’t bring herself to say a word.
“Dad, just look at the wallpaper they put up here,” Marina drawled, running a finger with a long, bright manicure over the textured wall. “It’s so tacky. I told you it should be solid color, ready to paint over. We’ll have to redo everything. And the lighting in here is so dull.”
“It’s all right, honey, we’ll change it,” Viktor Stepanovich replied amiably, pulling a tape measure from his jacket pocket. “We’ll bring in a proper crew, they’ll get rid of this mess fast. Measure the width of the living room doorway, see if your sofa will fit or if we’ll need to buy a new one.”
“Viktor Stepanovich,” Elena’s voice was quiet, though a nervous tremor revealed her distress, “what is going on here? Why are you walking through my clean floors with your shoes on? And what move are you talking about? Misha is on a work trip—he won’t be back for three months.”
Her father-in-law slowly turned to look at her, his narrowed eyes full of obvious disdain. He’d never considered Elena one of their own: just a regular literature teacher, no influential connections, no hefty dowry. Marina was a different story—she’d married a successful auto service chain owner. True, she’d recently divorced, and now urgently needed a place to live.
“Misha has nothing to do with this,” Viktor Stepanovich smirked, slipping the tape measure back into his pocket. “This place belongs to my mother, Anna Vasilievna. And since she’s living in a country nursing home now, the property goes to the rightful heirs. That would be me. I’ve got her handwritten will right here. So, my dear daughter-in-law, you’ve been a guest here long enough, five whole years—it’s time you showed some respect. After her divorce, Marina and her child need a proper place to stay, not some cramped rental.”
Elena felt like the ground was slipping out from under her feet. The apartment had originally belonged to her husband’s grandmother, Anna Vasilievna. Five years ago, when Elena and Mikhail just got married, the grandmother herself suggested they move into her old three-room flat, which was in terrible condition. The pipes leaked, the wiring sparked, and plaster fell from the ceiling. Anna Vasilievna had then moved to a small house in the suburbs, where the air was fresher and the neighbors quieter.
Over the years, the young couple poured every penny into fixing up the apartment. Mikhail took endless side jobs and went on tough work shifts up north, while Elena saved on everything so they could pay for building materials and contractors. They replaced absolutely everything: from the rough flooring to the window panes. And now, with the renovations finally finished and the last curtains hung in the living room, her father-in-law had decided to kick her out.
Her father-in-law tried to evict her, not realizing there was a secret about the will.
“Anna Vasilievna is alive and well,” Elena said steadily, trying to control her breathing. “God grant her many more years. What will? A will only comes into effect in certain cases. Right now she’s the full owner, and only she can decide who lives here. We’re always in contact, and she’s never once said she wants to give this apartment to Marina.”
Viktor Stepanovich flushed crimson. Being reminded he wasn’t in charge always infuriated him.
“Don’t lecture me about the law, smarty!” he barked, stepping toward his daughter-in-law. “Mother is old, she doesn’t understand anything anymore! I have full power of attorney over her affairs, and she wrote a will for me ten years ago. I’m the head of this family, and I decide what happens with the property. You’re nobody here! A son’s wife can be gone tomorrow, but Marina—Marina is my own blood.”
Marina finished measuring the doorway, then walked over to her father and looked down at Elena with an air of superiority.
“Lena, you’re a grown woman, you should understand the situation,” her sister-in-law crooned in a syrupy voice. “My ex-husband took the house, and Danya and I need our own nest. You and Misha are still young, you can get a mortgage someday. You two don’t need such a big place anyway. Especially since you don’t even have kids.”
Those words hurt the most. Marina knew perfectly well why they didn’t have children yet, knew about the two serious surgeries Elena had gone through, and about the doctors’ advice to wait. Striking at the most painful spot was how her husband’s family operated.
Elena straightened up. Inside, something snapped, like a string stretched to the limit suddenly becoming a steel rod. All her confusion vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating clarity.
“Get out of the apartment,” she said firmly. “Right now.”
“What did you say?” her father-in-law was so surprised he actually stepped back.
“I said, get out. There will be no talk about moving until Mikhail comes home. And you have no right to be here without my consent.”
“You ungrateful brat!” Viktor Stepanovich roared, shaking his fists. “I came to you nicely, gave you a heads up! Fine then. If you don’t want to do this the easy way, we’ll do it by the law! On Friday morning I’ll be here with a locksmith and the local officer. I’ll cut those locks off, no questions asked! And if your stuff is still here, I’ll personally throw it off the balcony! Let’s go, Marina, we’re done here. Friday, this upstart is getting kicked out, end of story!” Continued in the comments.
They turned on their heels and headed to the door. Viktor made sure to slam the front door so loudly the glass light fixtures in the hallway rattled.
Left alone, Elena slowly sat down on the hallway ottoman. The silence of the empty apartment was deafening. She looked around at the walls she had painstakingly smoothed every evening, at the wardrobe she and Misha had assembled deep into the night, laughing and getting tangled in the instructions. Had it all been for nothing? Could arrogance and family ties really wipe away years of hard work?
Outside, evening slipped quickly into thick, rainy night. Elena brewed herself a strong mint tea, but the cup sat untouched on the kitchen table. She picked up her phone and dialed the number of her longtime friend Svetlana. Sveta worked as a lawyer at a large real estate firm and knew every housing law detail like the back of her hand.
“Hey, Lenusya!” her friend’s energetic voice rang out. “Why are you calling so late? Did something happen?”
“Something did, Svetochka,” Elena said, closing her eyes with her free hand. “My father-in-law was here. With Marina. They’re demanding I move out in a week. He says he has Grandma’s will and a general power of attorney. He threatened to come Friday with a locksmith and the police to cut the locks.”
A heavy pause hung on the line. Sveta exhaled loudly.
“Okay, friend, don’t panic. Let’s sort this out step by step. Anna Vasilevna is alive, thank goodness. That means any will right now is just a piece of paper with no legal power. A will only comes into effect when the inheritance opens up. Got it? Now, the power of attorney… that’s a little trickier. If he really does have an active general power of attorney giving him the right to manage property, he could try to evict you through court. But not with a locksmith! That would be unlawful on his part.”
“Sveta, he won’t bother with court,” Elena said with a bitter smile. “He always bulldozes his way through. He knows Misha is away at work, we barely have any contact, and I’m here by myself. He’s sure I’ll be scared of the scene, pack my bags, and leave just to avoid dealing with the police.”
“The local cop isn’t evicting anyone without a court decision, I guarantee you that,” Svetlana said confidently. “At most, police will check your documents and tell you to sort it out in a civil court. Lena, what about Anna Vasilevna herself? You two get along great. Does she know what her son is planning?”
Elena looked at the dark window, raindrops trickling down the glass. A barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips.
You know, Sveta… I think I haven’t told you everything. Viktor Stepanovich is really mistaken about what rights he has. I just didn’t expect him to go on the offensive so quickly. I thought we’d wait for Misha, sit down at the table, and talk things out. But if he’s going to play dirty…
“Lena, you’re scaring me,” Svetlana’s voice was tinged with curiosity. “Do you have some kind of ace up your sleeve?”
“I do. And it’s a strong one. Anyway, Svetochka, thank you so much for your support. I just needed to hear the voice of someone sane right now. I’m going to bed, I need to prepare some documents tomorrow.”
The next few days passed in tense anticipation. Elena tried to keep up her regular routine: going to work at the school, grading papers, making dinner. But anxiety hung in the air, making her jump at every sound on the staircase.
On Wednesday evening she finally managed to reach her husband. Mikhail worked at a gas extraction station far up north, and getting a phone connection there was a rare luxury, only available on a set schedule.
“Lena, my love, hello!” her husband’s voice broke through the static. “How are you? How’s our renovation going?”
Elena swallowed the lump in her throat. Hearing his familiar voice was the most important thing in the world right now.
“Misha… Something happened. Your father came by. With Marina.”
She told her husband the entire conversation in detail, trying not to get too emotional. As she spoke, the static on the line seemed to get louder, magnifying the tension on his end of the phone. Mikhail stayed silent for a long time. Elena knew he’d always had a complicated relationship with his father. Viktor Stepanovich had always tried to control his son, molding him in his own image, and when Mikhail went his own way, married Elena, and started living his own life, his father held a deep grudge.
“So, he’s coming back with a locksmith,” Mikhail’s voice turned icy, nothing like his usual gentle tone. “He wants to throw you out. My wife. From the house we’ve worked so hard on.”
“Mish, he came waving that will. And yelling about the power of attorney.”
Mikhail suddenly laughed shortly, without any joy.
“A power of attorney, really. Lena, don’t worry. Do you remember where the documents are? In the blue folder, on the top shelf in the study.”
“Of course I remember. I already got them out.”
“Perfect. On Friday, don’t go anywhere. If this locksmith show actually happens, just show him the papers. And make sure you record everything on video. I’m so sorry, Lena, that I can’t be there right now to toss him out myself. I’m calling him right now.”
“Don’t, Misha,” Elena replied quickly. “Don’t waste your energy. You can’t prove anything to him over the phone. He needs to see it with his own eyes. Come home soon, I miss you so much.”
“I miss you too, dear. Take care of yourself. And don’t be afraid of anything. I’m with you.”
Friday morning was sunny but cold. Elena had taken a day off work on purpose. She got herself ready, putting on the sleek pantsuit she usually wore to parent-teacher meetings, and styled her hair with care. She had no intention of meeting uninvited guests wearing a bathrobe, looking like a victim. The recognizable blue folder, carefully tied with ribbons, sat on the kitchen table.
At exactly ten o’clock, the doorbell rang insistently. The sound went on and on, as if someone was holding their finger on the button without letting go. Then came heavy knocks with a fist against the metal door.
Elena took a deep breath, grabbed the folder from the table and walked into the hallway. She looked through the peephole. Standing outside was Viktor Stepanovich, flushed and wearing a triumphant grin. Next to him stood Marina, shifting her weight in an expensive coat, while a gloomy man in a work uniform and carrying a hefty toolbox waited a little further away. The district police officer wasn’t with them. As Sveta had guessed, the police refused to get involved in family quarrels without a court order.
Elena turned the key and swung the door open.
“Oh, you finally showed up!” her father-in-law grinned, stepping forward and trying to push Elena back into the hallway. “We thought you’d already run off. So, have you packed your things? Come on, hurry it up. The locksmith is here, and we’re about to change the locks. You can just leave the keys on the table.”
The locksmith shifted awkwardly and looked at Elena.
“The owner said you lost your keys, so I need to replace the lock cylinder,” he rumbled, pulling a drill out of his toolbox.
“This man has lied to you,” Elena replied in a calm, icy tone, addressing the locksmith. “He isn’t the owner of this apartment. And if you even touch my lock, I’ll call the police immediately and file a complaint for attempted unlawful entry and property damage.”
The locksmith instantly put down his tool and glanced suspiciously at Viktor Stepanovich.
“Who do you think you’re fooling?!” her father-in-law roared, his face turning crimson with rage. He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper, folded in quarters. “Here! Look at this, mister! A will! My mother left this apartment to me! I’m the rightful heir! And this girl has no right to be here!”
“Viktor Stepanovich, you really shouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of strangers,” Elena crossed her arms, pressing the blue folder to her chest. “Your mother, Anna Vasilievna, thank goodness, is alive and well. She’s currently resting at the ‘Sosnovy Bor’ resort, in a room overlooking the lake. Your so-called will is just a piece of paper—it gives you absolutely no rights to manage someone else’s property.”
Marina snorted, stepping out from behind her father.
“Oh, as if you’re the one in charge here! Dad, show her the power of attorney. Grandma gave him full authority—he can do anything with this apartment! Sell it, give it away, whatever he wants!”
Viktor Stepanovich grinned victoriously and pulled out another document, stamped by a notary.
“Exactly! General power of attorney! So get out of my apartment before I throw you out myself!”
Elena stood her ground. She slowly untied the ribbons of her folder. Every move she made was calm and deliberate. She was savoring this moment—a moment where justice triumphed over audacity.
“Very interesting, Viktor Stepanovich,” Elena said as she pulled out the first document. “When was the last time you checked the power of attorney registry? Because three years ago, when Anna Vasilievna moved to the care home, she revoked your power of attorney. It’s true—you tried to sell her country house without her permission and pocket the money. The notary officially cancelled that document. Your piece of paper is worthless.”
Her father-in-law’s face fell. He stared at his power of attorney in disbelief, as if he was seeing it for the first time.
“You’re lying!” he barked, but his voice faltered. “Mother wouldn’t do that! I’m her only son!”
“She did,” Elena shot back coldly. “Because her only son came to visit once every six months, and only ever to ask for money. And when she suffered a hypertensive crisis, I was the one who called the ambulance, I stayed with her at the hospital. Misha and I were the ones who found her a care home with proper medical attention, and we’re the ones who pay for it, too.”
“I couldn’t care less who took out her bedpans!” her father-in-law screamed, fully losing his composure. “The apartment is still mine! According to her will! When she dies, I’ll get everything, and I’ll throw you out on the street, no matter what!”
Marina tugged at her father’s sleeve, glancing around in fear at the neighbors, who were now peeking out their doors, drawn by the commotion in the hallway.
“Dad, quiet down…”
Elena paused. She stared right into the eyes of the man who had poisoned her husband’s and her own life for years, and felt nothing but pity.
“You won’t get anything, Viktor Stepanovich,” she said quietly but loud enough for everyone on the landing to hear. “Anna Vasilievna knew you wouldn’t leave us alone. She knew that as soon as Misha went away on a long business trip, you’d try to take our home from us. That’s why, just before moving into the care home, she made a decision.”
Elena unfolded a thick piece of paper adorned with an official seal and blue Rosreestr stamps, and held it out to her father-in-law so he could read it without touching the document himself.
“Read it. Out loud.”
Viktor Stepanovich squinted at the document. His lips moved soundlessly as he read the lines. With every passing second, his face grew paler, taking on a gray, ashen hue. His eyes grew wide with fear and confusion.
“What is this?” he croaked. “What does it mean… she gives…?”
“It means, Viktor Stepanovich, that Anna Vasilievna and I signed a deed of gift. A donation agreement. Three years ago, when she was of sound mind and clear memory. And the transfer of ownership was officially registered in the state registry that very same month.”
Elena pulled out the next paper.
– Here’s the official property statement from the registry. Take a good look at the “Owner” section. It’s written there, clear as day: Elena Viktorovna and Mikhail Viktorovich, equal shares. This apartment legally belongs to us now—officially and irrevocably. Your mother gave it to us as a thank you for taking care of her and renovating the place. So you can keep your grandmother’s will as a keepsake. The property mentioned in it is no longer part of her estate.
A heavy, funereal silence settled over the room. All you could hear was the father-in-law’s harsh, labored breathing. The repairman, realizing this was turning serious, quietly picked up his toolbox and started hurrying down the stairs, mumbling, “Sort out your own paperwork, you crazy people.”
Marina snatched the document from Elena’s hands, quickly scanned it with greedy eyes, and lost all color—she looked as pale as her father.
– Dad… – she whispered. – It’s true. The apartment is in their names. There’s nothing we can do.
Viktor Stepanovich stood there utterly thunderstruck. All his arrogance and confidence in being untouchable were shattered by just a few lines in an official document. He realized he had been outsmarted. His own mother and that apparently quiet daughter-in-law had fooled him, taking away his biggest family bargaining chip—real estate.
– You… a couple of snakes, – he hissed, clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles whitened. – You tricked the old lady… Took advantage of her being sick! I’m taking you to court! I’ll contest that deed! I’ll prove you forced her!
– Go ahead, – Elena replied calmly, taking the document back from the frozen Marina. – Just don’t forget: during the transaction, the notary recorded everything on video. Anna Vasilievna stated on camera that she was acting of her own free will and explained her reasons for doing so. We also have a note from the neuropsychiatric clinic attached. No judge will satisfy your claim. You’ll only waste your money on lawyers. Now listen to me carefully.
Elena took a step forward. Now she was setting the rules—standing on her own ground, by both law and conscience.
– If you show up at this apartment ever again, or dare to threaten me or torment Anna Vasilievna in the care home, I’ll go straight to the police and file a report for harassment and extortion. And Misha fully supports me in this. He asked me to let you know you should forget our address.
Viktor Stepanovich opened his mouth, ready to hurl more insults, but suddenly choked on his words. He looked at Elena, saw her firm, steely gaze, and realized she wasn’t joking. The woman he’d considered a silent shadow of his son for years turned out to be tougher than he could have imagined.
He spun around, roughly pushing Marina aside, and hurried down the stairs. Marina shot Elena a look full of hatred and envy before rushing after her father, her heels clacking angrily on the concrete steps.
Elena stood in the doorway, listening until the sound of their footsteps faded on the first floor and the heavy metal entrance door slammed shut. Only then did she finally let herself relax. Her shoulders dropped, she leaned the back of her head against the doorframe, and took a deep breath of the cool air in the stairwell.
It was over. No one would ever dare to show her the door in her own home again.
She went back into the apartment, locked the door with both bolts, and slid the latch. The blue folder returned to its rightful place on the top shelf in her study. Elena headed to the kitchen, poured herself a fresh cup of tea, and walked over to the window. The rain had stopped, and through breaks in the gray clouds, bright, blinding rays of spring sunshine were streaming in, lighting up the newly laid laminate flooring in the living room.
That evening, she called her husband and Anna Vasilievna to tell them everything that had happened. Her grandmother laughed for a long time over the phone, delighted that her plan had worked perfectly, and asked Elena to tell Viktor that he should take better care of his own health instead of worrying about someone else’s square meters. Mikhail simply said he was proud of her and that he would be back soon, to their shared, true fortress.