Alright then, sweetheart! Get out of MY apartment!
“And considering he did all the renovations,” she continued, “he put up the wallpaper, laid the tiles… he’ll get even more than half. You’ll walk away with nothing.”
“That’s right!” Vitaliy said proudly. “I’ll take what belongs to me. I put my sweat into these walls. You only dusted the furniture.”
Ksenia smiled faintly.
So that was the plan.
He had complained to his sister, worked himself up, and together they’d decided to frighten her into leaving—or at least make sure she finally knew “her place.”
“So that’s what this is really about,” Ksenia said thoughtfully. “You decided to throw me out of MY own home now that you’ve got backup?”
“YOUR home?” Larisa snorted.
She rolled her eyes dramatically.
“Don’t flatter yourself. Maybe you should learn the law before embarrassing yourself. Everything here belongs to BOTH of you.”
Vitaliy crossed his arms with a victorious grin.
“So pack your things, sweetheart,” he said lazily. “I’ve had enough. I need a normal wife—not someone who nags me every day.”
“If only your wish came true,” Ksenia replied calmly.
She turned toward the sink, washed her coffee cup, and placed it carefully on the drying rack.
There was no rush.
She wasn’t going to cry.
She wasn’t going to beg.
She wasn’t going to scream.
“I’m taking everything I bought for this place!” Vitaliy continued, expecting a breakdown. “The TV is mine! I bought it with my bonus back when I worked at the warehouse!”
“Take the TV.”
“And the microwave!” Larisa interrupted. “Mom and I gave it to you as a housewarming gift. No strangers should be using our presents.”
“You can take the microwave too,” Ksenia nodded. “Feel free to unplug it right now.”
Vitaliy narrowed his eyes.
This wasn’t how the scene was supposed to go.
He had expected tears.
Apologies.
Promises to cook homemade dinners and become the obedient wife he’d imagined.
“And I bought the curtains in the living room!” Larisa added.
“Leave the curtains,” Ksenia replied calmly. “I bought those myself. I still have the receipt in my banking app.”
“She has receipts now!” Vitaliy mocked.
“You should worry about yourself instead. Where exactly are you planning to sleep tonight? With one of your divorced girlfriends?”
Ksenia wiped down the countertop, dropped the cloth into the sink, and looked directly at him.
“I’m not going anywhere, Vitaliy.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, suddenly uneasy. “I told you to get out.”
“You’ve forgotten one very important thing,” Ksenia said.
Vitaliy laughed.
Larisa laughed with him.
Neither of them noticed that Ksenia was no longer angry.
She looked… relieved.
“Forgotten what?” Vitaliy asked, still smiling.
Ksenia slowly walked into the bedroom.
When she returned, she was carrying a slim black folder.
She placed it carefully on the kitchen table.
“You’re right,” she said. “This apartment was purchased during the marriage.”
Vitaliy grinned.
“I knew you’d finally understand.”
“But you forgot to mention where the money came from.”
She opened the folder.
Inside were bank statements, notarized documents, wire confirmations, and one thick envelope.
Larisa’s smile faded.
Ksenia slid the first document across the table.
“Here’s the transfer from my grandmother’s inheritance.”
Another paper followed.
“Here’s the notarized declaration proving those funds remained my separate property before they were used for the down payment.”
Another.
“And here’s the mortgage statement showing every single monthly payment came from my salary account.”
Vitaliy stopped smiling.
“What is this?”
“Evidence.”
She placed another document in front of him.
“The apartment is legally registered as marital property.”
He smirked again.
“I knew it.”
“But under state law,” Ksenia continued calmly, “property purchased primarily with separately inherited funds can be traced.”
She tapped the papers.
“My attorney has already done exactly that.”
Larisa swallowed.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?”
Ksenia unlocked her phone.
A video call connected instantly.
A middle-aged attorney appeared on the screen.
“Good evening, Ms. Ivanova.”
“Good evening, Ms. Ksenia.”
The attorney looked directly at Vitaliy.
“I’ve already prepared tomorrow morning’s filing. Based on the financial tracing we’ve completed, Mr. Vitaliy’s claim to the apartment is expected to be extremely limited.”
Vitaliy’s face lost its color.
“What filing?”
“The divorce petition.”
Silence.
“And,” the attorney continued, “we’ll also be requesting reimbursement for approximately eight months of mortgage, utilities, and household expenses paid exclusively by my client while Mr. Vitaliy remained voluntarily unemployed.”
Larisa looked from her brother to the lawyer.
“No… that’s impossible.”
Ksenia smiled for the first time that evening.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
She reached into another envelope.
“Remember all those transfers from my credit card?”
Vitaliy froze.
“I kept every statement.”
She laid them in front of him one by one.
Car parts.
Garage equipment.
Beer purchases.
Cash withdrawals.
Nearly $28,000 over the past year.
“All paid from my accounts.”
Vitaliy’s confidence completely disappeared.
“You… you can’t prove—”
“I already have.”
The attorney interrupted him.
“And we’ve also preserved copies of Mr. Vitaliy’s messages admitting those withdrawals.”
Larisa slowly stood up.
“Vitaliy… you told me she was living off YOU.”
He couldn’t answer.
“You said you paid everything.”
Still nothing.
Ksenia quietly picked up her coffee mug.
“You wanted me out of my own apartment.”
She took a slow sip.
“Now you’ll have thirty days to collect your television, your microwave… and whatever else you still think belongs to you.”
She looked directly at Larisa.
“As for the curtains… they’re staying exactly where they are.”
Neither of them laughed anymore.