La “ratoncita gris” que era dueña de todo: El día que mi marido descubrió quién soy

“I’m not going to take you, there will be decent people there, far above your level,” my husband left, without any idea that I am the owner of the company he works in.

The bedroom mirror was bringing back a very familiar scene: me, straightening out the wrinkles of a modest gray dress I’d bought at a convenience store three years ago. By my side, Dmitri adjusted the twins of his immaculate white shirt — Italian, as he remembered whenever he could.
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— Are you ready? — he asked without looking at me, shaking an invisible speck of dust from his suit.

— Yes, we can go — I replied, taking one last look at my hairstyle.

He finally looked at me. I saw in her eyes that usual evening disappointment. Dmitri walked my figure up and down, pausing for a few seconds in the dress.

— Don’t you have anything more decent? — he said with that condescending tone that he already knew me by heart.

Those words were like stings. The same as always, whenever there was a dinner, an event, an event in his company. I had learned not to show how much they hurt. To smile, to shrug.

— This dress fits perfectly — I replied calmly.

Dmitri sighed, as if he had once again disappointed him.

— Come on, but try not to draw attention, okay?

We got married five years ago, right after I graduated from economics. He was then an ambitious young man, newly promoted to sales manager in a commercial company. He had big dreams, he spoke enthusiastically about his future, and I believed in him.

Over the years, Dmitri climbed places. Now, as a senior sales manager, I handled important accounts. But all his salary translated into appearances: luxury suits, Swiss watches, new cars every two years. “Image is everything,” I kept repeating. “””If you don’t appear successful, no one will take you seriously.””.

I, for one, worked as an economist in a small consultancy. My salary wasn’t a big deal, and I was trying not to spend more on me than necessary. When Dmitri took me to his work events, I felt out of place. He introduced me with evening irony: “I took my little screaming mouse for a walk.” Laughter spread like sparks, and I laughed too.. pretending it didn’t hurt.

But something in Dmitri changed. Success had climbed to her head. He started looking over everyone’s shoulder including me. “I endorse those idiots cheap products from our Chinese,” he said with a glass of expensive whiskey in his hand. “It’s how you sell it that matters.” You sell them anything. ”

Sometimes I drop comments with ulterior motives about extra income. “Customers thank you for the good service,” he said with a wink. “And they reward him… personally. ”

I understood it. But I’d rather not dig anymore.

Everything took a brutal turn three months ago. Called by a notary public.

— Anna Sergeyevna? This is regarding the inheritance of his father, Sergei Mikhailovich Volkov.

My heart just stopped. My father had left us when I was seven years old. My mom never talked about him. I just knew I was alive, somewhere, far away. Non-existent in my world.

— His father passed away a month ago — the notary continued —. According to the will, you are the sole legal heir to all your assets.

The information I received from your office shook my life. My father had not only been successful: he had built an empire. A luxury apartment in the center of Moscow, a dream mansion, vehicles, but most importantly: an investment fund with participation in dozens of companies.

Among the documents, a name paralyzed me: “TradeInvest”, the company where Dmitri worked.

I spent weeks in shock. Every morning I woke up thinking it was all a dream. I just told Dmitri that he changed jobs. I was now engaged in the investment sector. He barely whispered something about hoping that at least the pay wasn’t lower than the previous one.

I took a dive into fund management. My upbringing as an economist was my best ally. But there was something more: for the first time, I felt that what I was doing was meaningful.

I was especially interested in TradeInvest. Requested a meeting with the CEO, Mikhail Petrovich Kuznetsov.

– Anna Serguéyevna – said after closing the door of her office -, I’ll be frank: the company is not going through a good time. And the main problem comes from the sales department.

— Tell me more.

— There’s an employee, Dmitri Andreev. Formally handles large accounts; the volumes are high, but the profits, zero. We even have agreements that are generating losses. There are suspicions… but not enough evidence yet.

I called for an internal audit I didn’t reveal my real motive.

few weeks later, I received the report. It turned out that Dmitri had taken advantage of the company’s money, negotiating “personal bonuses” with clients in exchange for discounts. The amount was substantial.

Meanwhile, I renewed my wardrobe. I stayed true to myself sobriety first. Only this time, the garments were one of the most recognized fashion houses in the world. Dmitri didn’t realize it. To him, anything that didn’t scream its price was still “grey mouse clothes.”

Last night he announced that there would be an important dinner the next day.

— An exclusive evening for senior management and key employees — he said with superiority. — It will be everyone who decides the direction of the company.

— I see — I said. — What time do I have to be ready?

He looked at me in surprise.

– I’m not going to take you. There will be serious people, it’s not your place — he repeated, without knowing I’m the owner. — You’ll see… It’s a crucial event. With influential people. I can’t expose myself to the looks.. you know.

— No, no sé.

— Anetchka —tried to sound nice—, you’re a great wife, but you remain in my image. With you next to me I look less than I am. I need to be seen as one of them.

Her words hurt. But they weren’t cutting it anymore. I knew who I was. I knew who he was.

— I understand — I replied with serenity. — Have fun.

Out and about on the way to work this morning. I put on a new dior dress, dark blue. Elegant, discreet, that enhances my figure subtly. My makeup and hair was flawless. In front of the mirror, I saw a different woman: confident, beautiful, unstoppable.

I knew exactly what the restaurant was: one of the most exclusive. Mikhail Petrovich greeted me at the entrance.

— Anna Sergeyevna, a pleasure to see you. She is splendid.

— Thank you. Today we must close cycles… and open others.

Inside, the living room overflowed with tailored suits and exquisitely cut dresses. The atmosphere vibrated with executive energy. Chat with department heads, introduced me to key figures. Many knew who I really was, although it had not been officially disclosed.

And then he appeared. Dmitri came wrapped in his air of importance, his best suit and a smile that sought recognition. I was analyzing faces. Scanning hierarchies. Until our eyes met.

First of all he didn’t recognize me. Then reality hit him with fury. His face got twisted. Walked up to me like it was gonna pop.

— What are you doing here?! — make it furious. – I told you this wasn’t for you!

— Good night, Dima — I greeted with a calm voice.

— Go away now! You’re putting me to shame! — spits out words, almost without moving lips. — And that costume? Another one of your mouse fabrics to humiliate me?… (Continue in the first comment)