A Family’s Quiet Struggle Behind Corporate Walls

“Misha, tell your wife to lower the music a bit,” Marina, his sister, said, barely concealing her irritation in her voice.“Because of your… what should I call it… avant-garde, Mom has a headache.”

I reduced the volume, not due to Marina’s request, but because my mother-in-law was already pressing her finger to her temple. She had consistently sided with her daughter—across every quarrel, whim, and demand.

My husband shrugged awkwardly, unfazed by his mother and sister’s behavior: “Sorry, you know them.” Indeed, I knew them well. Five years of marriage had given me ample insight into the family dynamics.

“Anya, don’t be upset,” my mother-in-law began in a saccharine tone I had nicknamed “honeyed poison.” “We are simple people; we cherish melody and warmth. And everything seems… unsettling to you.”

I nodded silently. What could I say? That the “unsettling” soundtrack had garnered three Oscars? That this residence, which they thought represented my utmost means, was actually one among many investments?

They wouldn’t believe it. To them, I was still the poor orphan generously embraced by their Misha with familial happiness.

“Speaking of worries,” Marina resumed, setting down her half-full coffee cup, “you have a major event at work tomorrow: the new company owner will address the entire staff.”

Marina was the secretary of the large agro-food group “Épi d’Or.” Although she constantly grumbled, she clung to her job for the status, connections, and downtown office.

“Which owner?” Misha frowned. “Everything was stable, right?”

“It was… but no longer. The company has been sold in full. The new boss’s name remains a secret—a true dark horse,” Marina replied with a smirk. “I just hope they won’t cut salaries. I barely booked my Maldives vacation.”

She shot me a condescending glance, which I met with calm. Beneath her indifference lay arrogance, subtle mockery, and blatant disdain.

Inside, I grinned. “Dark horse,” how amusing. I never expected that the purchase of “Épi d’Or” would stir such attention, even among the secretaries.

In truth, I was the one who quietly completed the acquisition via an offshore fund just a week prior.

“Excellent choice, the Maldives are a wonderful destination,” I responded gently.

“Oh, Anya, you probably don’t care,” Marina waved her hand dismissively like a socialite tired of trivial conversations. “You and Misha live at a different pace. We’re used to mingling with people who don’t look at prices.”

She paused briefly, attempting to soften the blow, but only worsened it:

“Not to offend you, but I fear our level is simply unreachable for you. You’ll feel like an outsider.”

Misha cleared his throat, feigning interest in the wallpaper. My mother-in-law nodded approvingly.

I kept my gaze on Marina—perfect makeup, luxury watch, and the arrogance shining in her eyes.

She was unaware that her travels, her career, and her “elite circle” were now under my control.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said slowly, my measured tone unsettling her slightly. “Though I might have my own arenas—far more intriguing than the ones you imagine.”

I rose from the table.

“Help yourselves, guests. I have some professional calls to make.”

In the room, I dialed my assistant’s number:

“Good evening, Oleg. Change of plans for tomorrow: I will attend the meeting at Épi d’Or personally. Introduce me as the new owner. Also, please prepare the dismissal order for the CEO’s secretary—Marina Viktorovna Sokolskaya. Reason: incompetence.”

The following morning, as usual, Misha noticed nothing. He left for work, kissing me on the cheek and saying, “Good luck at the interview!” I had mentioned looking for a small job once, to ease his mind.

The idea that his wife could own a company was abstract, almost fantastical to him.

I had prepared carefully: a strict navy-blue pantsuit, tailored perfectly in high-quality fabric.

Light makeup, hair tied in a low bun. The appearance of a manager or lawyer rather than the wealthy owner of a business empire.

The atmosphere in Épi d’Or’s lobby was electric. Employees whispered and formed small groups. I entered, standing to the side, observing.

My assistant Oleg, a commanding presence, was already present, signaling me briefly before returning to his discussion with the current CEO.

Marina, true to form, acted as queen of the office. She fluttered about, issuing instructions and sharing internal