Harlan Covington

GRANDMA, MY GUARDIAN ANGEL Lena never knew her parents. Her father left her mother while she was pregnant, and Lena never heard from him again. Her mother passed away from cancer when Lena was just a year old. From then on, Lena was raised by Granny Dot—her mum’s mum—who had lost her own husband young and devoted her life entirely to her daughter and granddaughter. From Lena’s earliest days, she and her grandmother shared a unique, unbreakable bond. Granny Dot always knew exactly what Lena needed, and there was nothing but understanding between them. Everyone loved Granny Dot, from the neighbours to the teachers at school. She would often attend parents’ evenings bearing a basket of homemade scones—after all, nobody should sit hungry at meetings after a long day’s work. She never gossiped or spoke ill of others; people regularly came to her for advice. Lena felt so lucky to have such a wonderful grandma. Lena’s own romantic life, however, wasn’t so fortunate. School, university, and work kept her constantly rushing about; she dated now and then but never found the right person. Granny Dot worried about it: — “Why are you still single, darling? Surely there’s a nice lad out there for a beautiful, clever girl like you!” Lena would laugh it off, but deep down, she knew it was time to settle down—she was nearly thirty, after all. Then, suddenly, Granny Dot was gone: her heart simply stopped one night as she slept. Lena was beside herself, unable to accept what had happened. She went through the motions—work, shopping—on autopilot, and at home, only her cat Molly awaited her. The loneliness was sometimes unbearable. One day, on the train home, Lena was reading a book when a pleasant-looking, well-dressed man about forty sat opposite her. He watched her for a while, and, strangely, she didn’t mind. Eventually, he struck up a conversation about books—something Lena could discuss for hours. It felt like a scene from a romantic film. When her stop came, the man—Alex—invited her for coffee. Lena agreed, heart fluttering. Thus began a whirlwind romance. They spoke on the phone and messaged every day, though met in person less often because Alex was always busy with work. He never spoke about his past, family, or job, but Lena didn’t mind—she’d never been happier with a man. One day, Alex invited Lena to a fancy restaurant and hinted at a special occasion—surely, he was going to propose! Lena was thrilled. Finally, she was about to have the family she’d always wanted. If only Granny Dot were there to see it. That night, browsing online shops for the perfect dress, Lena fell asleep. In her dream, Granny Dot appeared, dressed in her favourite frock, and gently stroked Lena’s hair. — “Gran, you’re gone… how are you here?” — “My sweet Lena, I never truly left. I’m always by your side, seeing and listening, even if you can’t see me. I’ve come to warn you: don’t see this man again—he’s not good for you. Please, trust your granny.” Then she vanished. Lena woke, unsettled, but decided it was just a dream—though a niggling worry remained. Why would Granny Dot warn her about Alex? Granny had never met him. Still, she couldn’t decide what to wear for the big day; everything seemed to go wrong. Saturday came, and Lena arrived at the restaurant in an old dress, feeling flat. Alex noticed at once and tried to cheer her up. At the end of the meal, like a scene from a film, he got down on one knee and produced a sparkling ring. Suddenly dizzy, Lena thought she glimpsed Granny Dot’s reflection in the window—watching intently. This was the sign she needed. — “I’m sorry, Alex, I can’t…” — “But why, what have I done?” — “Nothing. I just… always trusted my granny.” She rushed out. He followed, enraged, and shouted, “Fine! Stay with your precious cat, then—nobody else will have you, you silly thing!” and stormed off. Lena was reeling. How could this smart, loving Alex turn into someone so cruel? The next day, she visited her old classmate Andy—now head of the local detective unit—and asked him to run a check on Alex. A day later, Andy called: — “Lena, I’m sorry, but your Alex is a serial conman. He befriends lonely women, marries them, gets them to put him on the property deeds or take out massive loans for his ‘business’, then tosses them out and divorces them. He’s got several convictions. You had a lucky escape.” Lena was stunned. How could Granny Dot have known Alex wasn’t right? It was a miracle—perhaps she really was watching over her. Lena bought groceries and cat food on her way home, walking briskly with a newfound confidence. She knew she wasn’t alone: Granny Dot would always be nearby. People say lost loved ones become our guardian angels, watching and protecting us from harm. And perhaps—just perhaps—they’re right.

GRANDMA MY GUARDIAN ANGEL I never really remembered my parents. My father left my mum while she was still

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“Lydia, Have You Lost Your Mind in Your Old Age? Your Grandkids Are Already at School—A Wedding Now?” That’s What My Sister Said When I Told Her I Was Getting Married. But Why Wait? Next Week, Tony and I Are Registering Our Marriage. My Sister Lives Across the Country, She Won’t Come, and at 60, We’re Not Throwing a Big Do with People Shouting ‘Speech!’—We’ll Get Married Quietly, Just the Two of Us.

Linda, have you completely lost your senses in your old age? Youve got grandchildren in secondary schoolwhat

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JUST IN CASE Vera glanced at her tearful colleague, turned indifferently back to her computer, and began typing rapidly. “You’re heartless, Vera,” came the voice of Olga, their manager. “Me? What makes you say that?” “Well, just because your personal life is all sunshine and rainbows doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone else. You see the poor girl’s beside herself—you could at least show a bit of sympathy, offer some advice, maybe share your experience. Things are going so well for you, after all.” “Me? Share my experience? With her? I doubt our dear Nadia would appreciate that. I did try, you know—about five years ago, when she started showing up to work with black eyes ‘to help her see the road in the morning,’ as she claimed. You weren’t here yet back then. And no, it wasn’t her boyfriend beating her up—she just had a knack for ‘falling over’ at just the right angle. Funny thing, once he rode off into the sunset, the bruises vanished, and he was the third guy to do so. That’s when I decided to try supporting her, to offer a bit of wisdom, as it were. And guess what? I was the villain in the story. Later, my other colleagues clued me in—supporting Nadia is a lost cause. She always ‘knows best’ and hates anyone who meddles in her happiness. She used to run to fortune-tellers, casting love spells; now she’s moved with the times and goes to therapists to ‘work through her trauma.’ She doesn’t realize she’s living the same story over and over—only the names change. So please forgive me, but I won’t be weeping or passing out tissues.” “Still, Vera,” Olga said, “that’s not right.” At lunch, as everyone sat around the same table, all anyone could talk about was Nadia’s ex—the rogue, the cheater. Vera quietly ate her lunch, poured herself a coffee, and retreated to a corner, scrolling through her socials to clear her mind. “Vera,” cheerful, plump Tanya sidled up, her usually bubbly face looking glum today, “don’t you feel even a little bit sorry for Nadia?” “Tanya, what do you want from me?” “Oh, leave her be,” said passing Irina, “Vera’s got her dear Vasily, lives like a queen—she wouldn’t know what it’s like to be left alone with a child, to have no help from anywhere, to fight tooth and nail just to get child support from some deadbeat dad.” “Well, she shouldn’t have had a kid with God-knows-who at her age, pardon me girls,” chimed in Tatiana Ivanovna, the eldest at the office, known as Granny Tanya. “Vera’s right, Nadia’s cried over that guy for ages, he made her life hell even when she was pregnant.” The women all circled the ceaselessly sobbing Nadia, offering every kind of advice under the sun. So, our strong, independent Nadia decided to turn things around. She summoned her mother from the village to help with her son—and her ‘thankless’ ex. Nadia began to heal: she grew bangs, microbladed her eyebrows, glued on lashes, nearly got a nose ring but was talked out of it by the whole department. And suddenly, she was back. “It’s alright, Nadia,” her colleagues cheered, “he’ll regret it, he’ll cry soon enough!” “He won’t cry at all,” Vera muttered, hardly above a whisper, but the tipsy girls heard her. “What do you mean, he won’t cry?” “He just won’t. And he won’t have any regrets. As for Nadia, she’ll find another just like him before long.” “That’s easy for you to say, your Vasily is probably nothing like that…” “Nothing like that. Vasily is the best man in the world—doesn’t cheat, drink, or raise a hand, adores me to bits.” “Yeah, right. All men are dogs.” “Careful, Vera, or we’ll steal him.” “No chance, he wouldn’t go anywhere.” “I wouldn’t be so sure.” “You should be.” Wine-fueled, the girls soon argued as fiercely as wildcats. “Let’s go round to yours and see if Vasily can resist all this beauty! Bet you wouldn’t dare invite us—you’re scared one of us will steal your precious.” “Alright, let’s go.” “Alright, girls, let’s go to Vera’s and see if we can win Vasily over! Granny Tanya, you coming?” “No, I’ve got Mikhail waiting for me at home… You go ahead,” grinned Tatiana Ivanovna. Off they trooped to Vera’s, laughter filling the kitchen as they bustled about. “Let’s whip up something quickly for Vasily. He’s out now, right?” “He’s picky with food and won’t eat much—but yes, you’re right, he’ll be home soon.” The bravado faded, everyone remembered their chores and left, except Nadia, Olga, and Tanya, who stayed for tea and girl chat, feeling awkward while waiting for the mysterious Vasily. At last, someone arrived. “Vasily, my darling boy!” crooned Vera as she went to the hall. The women fell silent, shuffling awkwardly, when in strode a tall, handsome young man. Ah, so that’s it—they all realized at once. Vera’s man was much, much younger. “Ladies, meet my son, Denis. How’s Vasily, Den?” “He’s fine, Mum—just needs some rest after the op. He’ll be running around tomorrow. Don’t let him lick his…” The women blushed. “We… we’ll be off then?” “Wait, you haven’t met Vasily yet—shh, he’s just had surgery. Denis and Lena took him while I was at work… for his, um, snip, since he kept spraying the curtains. Come on in.” Here he is—my Vasily, fast asleep. The ladies nearly burst out laughing—it was a cat. “Vera—it’s a cat!” “Of course it’s a cat—what did you think?” “But… your husband?” “Oh, I’ve not got one. You all leapt to conclusions when I once said I had a wonderful man in my life called Vasily—you made up the rest all by yourselves. I got married young, first love, all that—dropped out of college, had Denis. Three rough years, and we split. Parents helped out as much as they could. Married again closer to thirty—a nice, stable man, made big plans. Wanted an heir, a princess… as for Denis, oh, send him off to military school or dump him on my mum. Sent that husband back to his mother soon enough. She blamed me for being a fool, said, ‘No one wants someone else’s child’—pretty rich coming from a woman whose husband wasn’t Denis’ father, either. Back to just Denis and me. Third time, I knew the odds were against me. ‘Third time lucky,’ as they say. But early on, this one blackened my eye—all in the name of passionate love, apparently. Luckily, Denis took up martial arts at six and I often sparred with him; I learned a few things. Gave that Othello a taste of his own medicine, and that was that. Denis got married, I got bored—so I got myself Vasily the cat. It’s great: I have company for the cinema, for holidays, and no one owes anyone anything, no one nags or demands. Sometimes I cook a nice dinner and invite Denis—he leaves happy, and there’s no drama. Denis used to ask why we didn’t live together. I told him: we’re adults, with our own lives and habits. If we’d been together since youth, like my brother or my parents—maybe. They’ve fused into one after thirty years. I didn’t, so why should I force myself, just to say ‘I’m married’? No, thanks. Vasily and I do just fine. Right, darling, open your eyes—like I warned you, keep on yowling and spraying, and you’ll lose more than dignity.” The girls left deep in thought, especially Nadia. But Nadia couldn’t do it Vera’s way. Within a month, she was gushing about her new beau, accepting bouquets at work. Vera and Granny Tanya quietly smiled. “How’s Mikhail? How’s his leg?” “All healed, Vera, thank goodness—a splinter, most likely, but he’s back to normal. My grandkids said we should show him at dog shows, but why torture him? We’re happy as we are… Looks like things have worked out with Nadia, too.” “Yes, Tatiana Ivanovna—some get a pet, some get a husband…” “Well, everyone to their own.” “Maybe she’ll have better luck this time?” “Let’s hope so.” “What’s all the whispering?” “About you, Nadia—we’re hoping for the best.” “Girls, I know how it looks, but I just can’t be alone, honestly.” “That’s your business—stop making excuses. Everyone has their own life…” “Vera,” Nadia called, catching up to her at the parking lot, “if I need tips on looking after cats, will you help? Which is better, a tom or a queen?” “Go on, they’re waiting for you… We’ll see about that if the time comes…” Vera laughed. “I just want to know—just in case.”

JUST IN CASE Sarah glanced at her sobbing colleague, turned back to her computer with barely a shrug

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Granddaughter. From the Moment She Was Born, Little Olivia Was Unwanted by Her Mother, Dumped at Her Granny’s Country Cottage by a Taxi, and Raised with Tenderness She Never Knew Before—Now an Aspiring Medical Student, Olivia Must Defend Her Inheritance and the Loving Home Her Grandmother Built, as Her Estranged Father Returns with His New Family, Determined to Leave Her With Nothing but Memories

Granddaughter. From the very beginning, little Emily was an inconvenience to her mother, Rachel.

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God’s Gift… A Gloomy Morning Brings the First Spring Storm and New Hope for Sasha and Vicky, as After Years of Heartache They Open Their Hearts to Adoption; Together They Brave Difficult Choices, Embrace a Little Girl with Special Needs, and Discover Joy, Healing, and Unexpected Blessings in Their New Family in England

A Blessing from Above… The morning is overcast; heavy grey clouds trail low across the sky, and

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The Mother-in-Law Times Two: When Ewan’s Quiet Holiday is Turned Upside Down by Granny Valentina’s Unannounced Visit, Her Colourful Past, a Stray Kitten, and Unexpected Family Revelations

Well, this was a surprise! That was the first thing I blurted out as I opened the door and saw a petite

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Different People Igor Ended Up with a Rather Unusual Wife: Beautiful, a Natural Blonde with Dark Eyes, Curvy, Long-Legged—a Firecracker in Bed. At First There Was Only Passion, Then Came Pregnancy, Marriage as Expected, and Their Son: Blonde and Dark-Eyed Just Like Her. Everything Seemed Normal—Nappies, Baby Steps, First Words, and Yana Was a Typical Young Mum… Until Their Son Became a Teen and Yana Obsessed Over Photography, Always Off on Courses with Her Camera, Never Watching TV with Igor or Discussing Anything Together. Instead, She Travelled to Exotic Places, Quit Her Lawyer’s Job, Held Her Own Exhibition, Earned Enough from Photos to Buy Igor a Car—Which Only Made Him Uneasy. He Tried to Control Her, Even Lashing Out, Only for Her to Fight Back; She Loved Cats, Kept Rescuing Them, Grieved Deeply When One Died—So Much, Igor Didn’t Understand. Friends and His Wife’s Girlfriends Sided with Him; So He Sought Comfort with Their Neighbour, Yana’s Childhood Friend Irka—Easy, Straightforward, Always Ready for Sex and a Drink. Igor Waited for Jealousy, for Drama, for a Scene—But Yana Stayed Silent, Distant Even in Bed, Moving Into Another Room. Their Son Grew Up—Just Like her: Blonde, Dark-Eyed, And Odd. He and Yana Understood Each Other Perfectly; Igor Only Felt More Alone, Found Himself Drawn to Irka Again and Again. Eventually, Yana Found Out. She Calmly Told Igor To Leave. He Went to Irka, Waiting for Yana to Call Him Back, But When She Finally Did, It Was Only to Arrange Their Divorce. Their Son Was Already at University, and Yana Planned to Move to London for a Big Project with Another Photographer—Someone She Admitted She’d Long Loved and Was Deeply Interested In. “We’re Just Different People, That’s All,” She Said. “I’ll Be Happy, and So Will You. You Marry Irka, and I Wish You Well.” Igor Protested, But Yana Was Already Gone. From Then On, He Heard Nothing More—Except Once a Year: A Short WhatsApp Message, “Happy Birthday! Wishing You Health and Happiness. Thank You for Our Son.”

DIFFERENT PEOPLE Grahams wifeCharlottehas always been a bit of an odd one. Beautiful, yes: a natural

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The Snap of a Dry Twig Under Ivan’s Foot Went Unheard—Suddenly His World Flipped and Blurred into a Kaleidoscope of Colours, Then Burst into a Million Bright Stars That All Converged in His Left Arm Just Above the Elbow. ‘Ow…’ Ivan Grabbed His Injured Arm and Howled in Pain. ‘Vanya!’ His friend Sasha Rushed Over, Kneeling Before Him—’Does it Hurt?’ ‘No, it Feels Lovely, Obviously!’ he Groaned Sarcastically Through Gritted Teeth. Sasha Reached Out and Gently Touched Ivan’s Shoulder. ‘Get off!’ he Suddenly Snapped with Flashing Eyes—’It Hurts! Don’t Touch Me!’ Ivan Felt Twice as Bad: First, He’d Clearly Broken His Arm and Knew He’d Spend the Next Month Enduring His Friends’ Jokes About the Obvious Plaster Cast; Second, He’d Climbed That Tree Himself, Wanting to Show Off His Strength and Daring to Sasha. Accepting the First Reason Was Possible, but the Second Just Infuriated Him All the More. Not Only Had He Embarrassed Himself in Front of That Girl, but Now She Was Trying to Pity Him! No Chance… Jumping Up and Clutching His Lifeless Arm, Ivan Strode Determinedly Towards the Hospital. ‘Don’t Worry, Vanya, It’ll Be Fine!’ Sasha Trotted Along Beside Him, Desperately Trying to Cheer Him Up—’Everything Will Be Okay, Vanya! Everything Will Be Okay!’ ‘Just Leave Me Alone,’ He Stopped, Shot Her a Disdainful Look, and Spat on the Pavement—’How Will It Be Okay? I’ve Broken My Arm, Don’t You Get That? Are You Thick? Go Home, You’re Annoying Me!’ With That, He Walked Away Without Looking Back, Leaving His Friend to Blink Her Large Blue-Green Eyes and Whisper the Same Words: ‘Everything Will Be Okay, Vanya… Everything Will Be Okay…’ *** ‘Ivan Victor, If We Don’t Receive the Funds Transfer Within Twenty-Four Hours, We’ll Be Very Disappointed. Oh, and One More Thing. They’re Forecasting Black Ice on the Roads Tomorrow, So Drive Carefully. You Know, Cars Can Skid and… Accidents Happen, No One is Safe from Those. All the Best to You.’ The Voice on the Phone Fell Silent, and There Was Only Quiet. Ivan Threw the Phone Aside, Gripped His Hair, and Sank Deep into His Office Chair. ‘Where on Earth Am I Supposed to Get That Money? The Next Transfer Isn’t Until Next Month…’ Exhaling, He Grabbed the Phone Again, Dailed a Number, and Pressed It to His Ear. ‘Olga Vasilyevna, Can We Transfer Funds Today to Our Holding Partners for the Equipment Delivery?’ ‘But… Ivan Victor—’ ‘Can We or Not?’ ‘Yes, but Then the Rota—’ ‘To Hell with That! We’ll Sort It Later! Transfer the Funds to the Holding Today.’ ‘Alright, But… There’ll Be Trouble With—’ Ivan Hung Up Before She’d Finished and Slammed His Fist Against the Armrest. ‘Bloody Parasites…’ Something Soft Unexpectedly Touched His Shoulder, Making Him Jump in His Chair. ‘Sasha, Did I Not Ask You Not to Disturb Me While I’m Working? Didn’t I?’ His Wife Alexandra Leaned in and Gently Kissed His Ear, Running Her Hand Through His Hair. ‘Vanya, Please Don’t Stress, Alright? Everything Will Be Okay.’ ‘Oh, Enough Already With Your “Everything Will Be Okay”! You’re Driving Me Crazy, You Know That? They’ll Kill Me Tomorrow—Will It Still Be Okay, Then?’ Ivan Leaped Up, Grabbed Sasha’s Hands, and Pushed Her Away. ‘What Were You Doing? Making a Roast? Then Go and Cook! Don’t Wind Me Up, It’s Bad Enough Without You!’ She Sighed and Headed for the Door. At the Threshold, She Paused, Glanced Back, and Whispered Three Words. *** ‘You Know… I’m Lying Here, Thinking Back Over Our Whole Life…’ The Old Man Opened His Eyes and Looked Mistedly at His Aged Wife. The Once Beautiful Face Was Now Webbed With Wrinkles, Her Shoulders Had Drooped, and Her Posture Was No Longer Straight and Graceful. She Never Let Go of His Hand, Gently Adjusted the Drip Needle, and Smiled Silently. ‘Whenever I Got into Trouble, Was on the Brink of Death, All the Terrible Things Happening… You’d Always Come Along and Say That Same Phrase. You Can’t Imagine How That Drove Me Up the Wall. I Wanted to Choke You Sometimes, For Your Naïveté and Repetition,’ the Old Man Tried to Smile but Lapsed into a Fit of Coughing. Once It Passed, He Continued—’I Broke Bones, Got Threatened a Hundred Times, Lost Everything, Fell into Holes Few Came Out Of—And All My Life, You Kept Saying Just One Thing: “Everything Will Be Alright.” And You Never Lied—That’s the Amazing Bit. How Did You Always Know in Advance?’ ‘I Didn’t Know Anything, Vanya,’ the Old Lady Sighed. ‘Do You Think I Was Telling You? I Was Just Trying to Soothe Myself. I’ve Loved You Like Crazy All My Life, You Silly Man. You’re My Whole World. When Something Bad Happened to You, My Heart Turned Inside Out. I Cried So Many Tears, Spent so Many Sleepless Nights… And Just Kept Repeating to Myself—“Even If the Sky Falls, If He’s Alive, Everything Will Be Alright.”’ The Old Man Closed His Eyes for a Moment and Squeezed Her Hand Weakly. It Was Clear Every Word Came with Effort. ‘So That’s It… And I Got So Angry At You. Forgive Me, Sashenka. I Never Knew… Lived My Whole Life and Never Really Thought About You. Idiot, Aren’t I?’ Unseen, the Old Woman Wiped Away a Tear and Bent Over Her Husband’s Face. ‘Vanya, Don’t Worry…’ For a Moment She Hesitated, Then, Looking Closely Into His Eyes, She Laid Her Head On His Still Chest and Gently Stroked His Cooling Hand. ‘Everything Was Alright, Vanya… Everything Was Alright.’

I barely noticed the dry twig snap under my shoe; everything just spun upside down in a crazy swirl of

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My Husband’s Mistress: When I Met the Other Woman at “Coffee Heaven” and Discovered the Most Unbelievable Secret on Our Tenth Anniversary

The Other Woman Milly sat in her Vauxhall Astra, eyes glued to the satnav. The address was right there

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“We’ll Stay Here Until Summer!”: How I Finally Kicked Out My Husband’s Cheeky Relatives, Changed the Locks, and Took Back My Home The intercom didn’t just buzz – it howled, demanding attention. I glanced at the clock: seven a.m. on a Saturday. The only day I’d planned a lie-in after closing the quarterly report, and definitely not a day for visitors. On the video screen appeared my sister-in-law’s face. Svetlana, my husband Igor’s sister, looked ready to storm the barricades, with three wild-haired kids bobbing in the background. “Igor!” I called without picking up. “Your family’s here. Deal with it.” He shuffled out of the bedroom pulling his shorts on backwards, knowing from my tone that my patience for his relatives was long gone. While he mumbled into the intercom, I waited arms crossed in my own hallway—my flat, my rules. I’d bought this central London three-bed years before we got married, slaved through the mortgage, and the last thing I wanted was a house full of strangers. The door banged open and in tumbled the clan. Svetlana, weighed down with bags, didn’t even greet me—just shouldered past like I was a piece of furniture. “Thank goodness we made it!” she announced, dropping her bags right onto my Italian tiles. “Alina, why are you rooted at the door? Put the kettle on, the kids are starving after the journey.” “Svetlana,” I said evenly, while Igor shrank into his shoulders. “What’s going on?” “What, he didn’t tell you?” she answered, immediately in innocent mode. “We’re having major renovations! New pipes, new floors, impossible to live at home, dust everywhere. We’ll just stay with you for a week. Plenty of space in this palace of yours, isn’t there?” I turned to Igor, who suddenly found the ceiling fascinating, clearly dreading what would come later. “Igor?” “Oh come on, Alina,” he pleaded, “She’s my sister. Where are they supposed to go? Just a week.” “One week,” I replied. “Seven days. You feed yourselves, no running around the flat, no touching the walls, keep away from my office, and absolute silence after ten.” Svetlana rolled her eyes. “You’re such a fun sponge, Alina. Alcatraz couldn’t compete. Anyway, where do we sleep? Not on the floor, I hope?” And so began the nightmare. A week turned to two. Then three. My spotless flat designed with care now resembled a barn. The hallway was a hazard of filthy shoes, the kitchen a disaster zone: greasy stains on quartz, crumbs, sticky puddles. Svetlana behaved like a lady of the manor, and I was the staff. “Alina, why’s the fridge empty?” she complained one night. “The kids need yogurts, and Igor and I want meat. Can’t you spoil your relatives a bit, now you’re on such a good salary?” “You’ve got a bank card and shops,” I replied, not looking up from my laptop. “Delivery’s 24/7.” “Stingy,” she muttered, slamming the fridge. “Can’t take your money with you to the grave, you know.” It wasn’t even the worst. One day coming home early, I found my nephews in my bedroom. The eldest bouncing on my extortionate mattress, the youngest drawing on my bedroom wall. With my limited edition Tom Ford lipstick. “OUT!” I barked, scattering the children. Svetlana rushed in, saw the ruined wallpaper and broken lipstick and just shrugged. “What’s the fuss? They’re kids! It’s just a mark on the wall. You’ll sort it. It’s only a lipstick. Buy a new one, you won’t go broke. Oh, by the way, we’ve realised our builders are useless, so we’re probably here until the summer. Anyway, it must be nice for you, not so lonely with all of us around!” Igor quietly stood by, saying nothing. Pathetic. I left for the bathroom before I did something criminal. That evening, Svetlana went to shower, leaving her phone on the kitchen table. The screen lit up: “Marina Lettings – Svetlana, sent you next month’s rent; the tenants are happy, asking if they can stay through August.” Then her bank pinged: “+£800 received.” Everything clicked. There was no renovation. She’d rented out her own place for easy money and decided to live off me—free food, free bills, and a profitable passive income. All at my expense. I snapped a photo of her screen. My hands didn’t tremble; I’d never been calmer. “Igor, kitchen. Now.” When he saw the photo, the blood drained from his face. “It might be a mistake, Alina…” “The only mistake here is you not kicking them out. They’re gone by lunchtime tomorrow, or you’re all out. You, your mum, your sister—the lot of you.” “But where will they go?” “I don’t care. Under a bridge or the Ritz, if they can afford it.” In the morning, Svetlana breezed out for a shopping spree—clearly spending her rent windfall—leaving the kids with Igor. As soon as the door shut: “Igor, take the kids out for a long walk. I’m ‘dealing with pests.’” As soon as they left, I called an emergency locksmith, then our local police station. Hospitality was over. It was time for a clean sweep. While the locksmith fitted a monster lock, I gathered up everything: Svetlana’s bras, kids’ tights, scattered toys, all into big black sacks. I didn’t fold—I stuffed. Her cosmetics, all of it. Within forty minutes, there was a pile by the door: five bin bags and two suitcases. When the police officer arrived, I produced all my documents, proving sole ownership. “Relatives?” he asked. “Ex-relatives,” I said. “Property negotiations are over.” Svetlana returned smiling, arms full of designer shopping, until she saw the pile and me with a copper. “What the hell, Alina? You’ve lost it! Where’s Igor? I’m calling him!” “Go ahead. He’s explaining to his kids why their mum is so enterprising.” She redialled; voicemail. Maybe at last Igor developed a backbone—or just feared divorce (and leaving with nothing). “You can’t do this! We’ve nowhere to go! I have children!” “Don’t lie. Give Marina my regards. See if your tenants want to extend to August, or if you’ll be moving back in yourself.” She froze, colour draining from her face. “Lock your phone next time, entrepreneur. You’ve lived off me for a month, eating my food, trashing my home, while letting your own for profit so you can save for a new car? Nice try. But it’s over.” She snatched her bags, swearing, hands shaking as she called a taxi. The lift doors closed behind her, taking all her baggage—literally and figuratively. I turned to the copper: “Thanks for the help.” “Just get decent locks,” he grinned. I locked the door. The satisfying click of the new lock was music to my ears. The smell of disinfectant lingered—clean-up crew opening every room. Igor returned, alone. He looked around warily. “Alina… she’s gone.” “I know.” “She was shouting awful things…” “I don’t care what rats scream as they’re chased off a sinking ship.” I sat in my spotless kitchen, drinking coffee from my own unbroken mug. The lipstick-marks were scrubbed away; only my food in the fridge. “You knew about the letting?” “No! Honestly, Alina! If I’d known—” “You’d have said nothing. Remember this, Igor: one more stunt from your family and your bags go out with theirs. Understood?” He nodded, eyes wide. He knew I meant it. I took a long sip of coffee. It was perfect—hot, strong, and, most importantly, enjoyed in the peace and quiet of my very own home. My crown? It fit just right.

The intercom didnt just ringit screeched, demanding attention. I glanced at the clock: seven in the morning, Saturday.