Marina could never have imagined that she would find herself in such a situation. “Beluga” – the restaurant where Viktor once proposed to her three decades ago – had now become the venue for his secret rendezvous. She stood by the panoramic window, watching as her husband tenderly intertwined his fingers with a young blonde barely twenty-five years old.

“You are special,” the words reached Marina, and the once familiar voice suddenly seemed alien.

The girl smiled playfully, revealing flawless teeth and charming dimples. Her well-groomed fingers with perfect manicure caressed Viktor’s wrist tenderly.

“What about the wife?” squeaked the brunette, puffing out her lips.

“Marina?” Viktor waved his hand nonchalantly. “She’s busy with flowers and TV series. You know, at our age…” he trailed off, laden with meaning.

Marina was overwhelmed by a feeling of suffocation, and her hands betrayed her with trembling. Thirty years of life together, three grown-up children, countless evenings shared – all of it was nullified by one dismissive gesture.

Her first impulse was to burst in, create a scandal, and pour wine on the couple. But something restrained her – perhaps years of cultivated composure or natural reason.

Upon returning home, Marina mechanically brewed tea and sank into her favorite armchair. Her gaze fell upon a folder of documents in the cabinet – papers she had signed at her husband’s request over the past five years.

“Darling, it’s just a formality,” his words echoed in her mind. “It’s necessary for tax optimization.”

Now, as she reviewed the documents with trembling hands, she began to realize the true state of affairs. The house, the country residence, three car dealerships, a chain of restaurants – everything officially belonged to her.

Fearing inspections, Viktor had been gradually transferring assets to his wife, believing her to be loyal and spineless. Marina smiled bitterly. How wrong he was. Over the years of their marriage, she had not only learned to cultivate orchids and bake cakes – she had been carefully monitoring the development of the family business, even though she had remained in the background. By midnight, her tears had dried up.

In place of despair came cold determination. Marina took out her diary and began to plan. Five days – that was all that was needed.

Day One:

The day began with an early call to a lawyer. Elena Sergeyevna, an authoritative family law specialist, carefully examined the documents as Marina nervously tapped her fingers.

“Congratulations,” the lawyer pronounced while adjusting her glasses. “Legally, you are the sole owner of the entire business.”
“What about the power of attorney I gave him?”

“It can be annulled immediately.”

Marina looked at the swirling autumn leaves outside the office window. For thirty years, she had been an exemplary wife – supportive, inspiring, forgiving. Now it was time to think about herself.

“Let’s start acting,” she declared firmly.

Day One Continued:

That same evening, Viktor returned late, exuding the scent of expensive perfume. Marina, as usual, served dinner.

“Today you seem different,” noted her husband, dabbing his lips with a napkin.

“Just tired,” she smiled. “By the way, don’t cook dinner tomorrow. I have a meeting with friends.”

Viktor nodded absentmindedly, absorbed in his phone. Marina saw him hide a smile as he read messages.

Day Two:

The next day, she visited all the banks with their joint accounts. The process took several hours – Viktor was busy shifting their finances across various institutions. By the evening, a significant portion of the funds had been transferred to new accounts opened exclusively in her name.

“Ms. Sokolova, maybe leave a small reserve?” cautiously suggested the manager of the last bank.

“No,” Marina shook her head. “Transfer everything.”

At home, she found a bouquet of roses – Viktor sometimes gave them, especially when he felt guilty. In the past, they would have moved her, but now the flowers elicited only a bitter smile.

Day Three:

A meeting took place with Mikhail Petrovich, a long-time partner in their family business.
“To part with the car dealerships?” Mikhail Petrovich exclaimed in astonishment. “But they consistently generate income!”
“That’s precisely why now is the perfect time,” Marina replied calmly. “The market is on the rise.”
By the evening, preliminary agreements had been sealed with signatures. Now she had reliable financial protection.

Day Four:

The fourth day was the most emotionally intense. Her hand trembled betraying her as she signed documents.
“Are you sure about your decision?” inquired the notary sympathetically, a woman around her age.
“Absolutely,” Marina replied, straightening her shoulders.
Next, she met with a real estate agency. The family mansion, built fifteen years ago, was now entirely in her possession.
“I want to prepare the eviction documents,” she declared, looking straight into the eyes of the young lawyer.
“But that’s your husband…” the lawyer began uncertainly.
“Ex-husband,” corrected Marina. “And he has exactly seven days to vacate the house.”

Day Five:

Marina began the day with a visit to a beauty salon. She chose an elegant black dress, styled her hair impeccably, and applied flawless makeup.

“Darling,” she called Victor on the phone, “let’s meet tonight at Beluga. We need to talk.”
“Of course, dear,” his voice held a note of relief, as if he assumed she was ready to forgive him.
At the restaurant, with soft lighting and live music, Victor—impeccably dressed as always—smiled confidently and condescendingly.
“I ordered your favorite wine,” he said, sliding a glass over.
“Thank you,” Marina replied, retrieving a folder filled with documents from her purse. “But tonight, I’m treating.”
One by one, she laid out the divorce petition, eviction documents, bank statements, and business sale agreements.
Victor’s expression shifted from confusion to anxiety to genuine shock.
“What does all this mean?” he rasped. “Have you lost your mind?”
“On the contrary, darling. For the first time in years, I think with absolute clarity,” Marina said, taking a sip of wine. “Remember this table? Right here, five days ago, you were making out with your young mistress.”
Victor paled.
“You’ve got it all wrong…” he stammered.
“I understand perfectly. For the first time in thirty years,” she placed a pen before him. “Sign here.”
“You can’t do this!” he banged his fist on the table. “This is my business! My money!”
“Not anymore. Didn’t you hand everything over to me? Forget it?” Marina smiled coolly. “It was just a formality, dear. For tax optimization.”
At that moment, the same blonde entered the restaurant. She headed toward their table but stopped upon hearing Victor’s loud voice:
“You left me without a single ruble! You sold the car dealerships! You took all the accounts!”
The girl froze, her eyes widening, then quickly turned and left.
“Look at that,” Marina smirked. “Seems your mistress prefers men with assets.”
“I’ll go to court!” Victor hissed. “I’ll prove—”
“Prove what? That you voluntarily transferred the entire business to me? Or that you cheated on your wife?” she interrupted, rising from the table. “You have a week to vacate the house. The bill, please!”

The Aftermath:

The next morning, Victor, having barely slept, pleaded for a meeting over the phone. His once commanding voice now trembled.
“Marina, let’s talk… I’ll explain everything…”
“We have nothing left to discuss,” she replied calmly before hanging up.
An hour later, his mother, Antonina Pavlovna—a domineering woman who had never spared her daughter-in-law—called in a flurry of pleading:
“Marina, darling, how can this be? Victor hasn’t been at ease all night. He loves you!”
“Thirty years of love is enough to know its true worth,” Marina answered before ending the call.
That day, she indulged in spa treatments for the first time in ages—massages, wraps, masks—all the pampering she once thought impossible. In the evening, at her favorite coffee shop, she overheard a familiar voice:
“Marina, is it true? The whole town is talking about it! They say you kicked Victor out!”
“Not yet. He still has five days,” Marina replied, sipping her cappuccino. “Will you join me?”
Svetlana, her friend, looked on in astonishment.
“How did you manage it? After so many years…”
“You know,” Marina stirred cinnamon in her cup thoughtfully, “sometimes it takes one moment to rethink everything. I saw them together—him and that girl. She’s the same age as our daughter! And then I realized, this isn’t his first affair. I just kept closing my eyes, hoping it would all fix itself…”
“And now?”
“Now I know I don’t want to be just a background figure in his life. I don’t want to ignore his infidelities or his disdain. I’m done wondering every evening where he is and with whom.”
Svetlana twirled a teaspoon and said, “I envy you. I have my issues with Pavel too, but I couldn’t take such a step…”
“The key is taking the first step,” Marina said, covering her friend’s hand. “The rest will follow.”

Returning home, she noticed that Victor had already taken some of his belongings. The wardrobe was empty, his favorite suits and watch collection were gone. On the vanity, only her perfume remained—a scent that now seemed too sweet.
Marina flung open the window, letting in fresh air. It was time not only to change her life but also to change the scents, habits, and tastes around her. It was time to become the woman she had always wanted to be.

Day Seven:

The final day began with an unexpected visit.
Standing at her door was the very same blonde from the restaurant. Without makeup or designer clothes, the girl looked very young and confused.
“May I come in?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I need to talk to you.”

Marina silently stepped aside. In the living room, the girl nervously fidgeted with the strap of her purse.
“My name is Alina. I…I didn’t know he was married. Victor Alexandrovich said he lived alone, that his ex-wife had long since left the country…”
“Sit down,” Marina gestured to a chair. “Tea or coffee?”
“No, thank you,” Alina replied. “I came to apologize. And to warn you.”
“Warn me about what?”
“Victor Alexandrovich… he’s very angry. Yesterday I overheard him talking to someone. He wants to challenge all the transactions, claiming that you deceived him, that you exploited his trust…”
Marina smiled.
“Let him try. I have video recordings of every signing, notarized documents, and witnesses. I’ve been preparing for this for days.”
“You’re so… strong,” Alina said, looking up. “I don’t think I could do that.”
“You will,” Marina replied softly. “When the time comes. Just remember, you deserve better.”
After Alina left, Marina stood by the window for a long while. That week, she had lived a lifetime. Every day brought new revelations—about herself, about people, about the true value of relationships.

Later that evening, her daughter in London called:

“Mom, I know everything. I’ll fly in first thing tomorrow.”
“No need, darling. I can handle it.”
“I know you can, but I want to be with you. You’re my mom.”
Tears could be heard over the phone.
“I’m sorry for not noticing… for not understanding how hard it’s been for you all these years…”
“Everything’s fine, my dear. Sometimes you must go through pain to become stronger.”
After the call, Marina went up to the bedroom. On the bed lay an envelope – the last thing Victor had left. Inside was a brief note: “You’ll regret this yet.”
Marina calmly tore the paper and tossed it into the trash. Threats no longer frightened her. She knew that a new life lay ahead, and she was ready for the journey.

In the mirror, she saw a woman with a straight back and her head held high—a woman who had finally found herself.