— What second one?
Klara Mikhailovna chuckled:
— Didn’t he tell you? Of course, why would he… Artem was married twice before. The first time at twenty-three. They lasted half a year. The second wife left after a year. Both fled from Zhanna. She pressured them so much that the girls couldn’t take it. And Artem never once stood up for them. He’s a mama’s boy, dear. You should leave too. Before it’s too late.
Kira returned home and lay down on the bed. Artem was asleep. She stared at the ceiling and thought. Why was she enduring this? For what? The next day, she took a day off and went to her grandmother’s. She lived in the suburbs, in a small private house. Her grandmother was strict but fair. Kira told her everything.
Her grandmother listened in silence, then stood up and took an old folder from the sideboard.
— Your grandfather left me this house. But I want you to have it. I’ve been meaning to transfer it for a long time, but never got around to it. Now is the time.
— Grandma, what are you saying? — Kira didn’t understand.
— I’m saying this house is yours. I’m gifting it to you. We’ll go to the notary today. We’ll get everything in order. And then you can decide what to do with it. Sell it and start a new life. Or move in here. Or rent it out. But you’ll have a foundation. So that no one can ever dare to kick you out of their apartments again.
Kira started to cry. She hugged her grandmother and couldn’t let go. They went to the notary that same day. The gift deed registration took a week. They needed to get the grandmother’s consent at the notary, order a technical plan, and submit the documents to the State Register. The house was old but sturdy. The plot was six hundred square meters. Its market value was about three million. For Kira, this was an astronomical amount of money.
But she wasn’t going to sell it. She decided to rent the house out. She found a married couple who were looking for a place away from the city. They agreed on twenty-five thousand a month. It was a gift from fate. In parallel, Kira started saving. She stopped giving Zhanna Borisovna a single kopek. When her mother-in-law asked for money for medicine again, Kira answered coldly:
— I don’t have any.
— What do you mean you don’t? You work.
— I do. But my money is my business.
Zhanna Borisovna turned purple:
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