Victoria watched as her mother’s hand trembled while setting the table for their usual Sunday lunch. Her stepfather, Andrei, had a knack for turning every moment into a silent battle. He smirked at Olga. “Pass the salt, dear. You know, that white thing that costs less than your morning coffee.”
Victoria handed him the shaker, watching how he held it delicately. Three years ago, Andrei had seemed perfect for her mother—polished, successful, and always smiling. But beneath that smile was a petty tyrant.
“Mom, the salad is great,” Victoria tried to ease the tension.
“At least your mother knows how to cook,” Andrei scoffed. “Not like some career women who only know how to run around offices.”
Olga’s wrist, with a faint yellowish bruise, caught Victoria’s eye. “Mom, what happened?”
“Nothing, dear. Just bumped it,” Olga said, avoiding her gaze.
When Andrei entered the kitchen, their conversation fell silent. “What are you whispering about?” he asked.
“Work,” Olga answered quickly.
Andrei’s smirk returned. “Ah, yes. Our little Victoria is a big boss now. How’s the air up there?”
Victoria clenched her jaw. “How’s your project at the company?”
“It’s none of your business,” he snapped.
“We’re family,” Victoria said, “Just curious.”
He leaned closer. “In this house, I’m in charge. Remember that.”
Olga sobbed quietly after Andrei left the room. “Mom, this can’t go on,” Victoria whispered. “Things are going to change.”
The next day, Victoria walked into her new office. A folder sat in front of her, and Andrei’s name caught her eye—*Senior Project Manager*. Now, he was her subordinate.
At the company meeting, Victoria scanned the room. When her eyes landed on Andrei, she saw shock barely concealed behind his gaze.
“Good morning,” she greeted, starting her presentation. “The ‘Fortuna’ project is behind schedule. This is yours, right, Andrei?”
His face turned blotchy. “Yes, but—”
“I expect a full report by tomorrow morning,” she said, her tone cold.
“Impossible! A full analysis by then?” Andrei stammered.
“By nine,” she repeated, eyes narrowing. “Unless it’s beyond your abilities?”
Afterward, Andrei stormed into her office. “You set this up on purpose,” he accused.
Victoria didn’t look up. “Learn to knock, Andrei Stepanovich. It’s basic corporate etiquette.”
“You think you can control me?” he spat.
“I already do.”
He seethed but said nothing.
Victoria continued to demand punctuality and quality from Andrei, tracking his every misstep. Soon, his behavior was documented, and the ‘Fortuna’ project teetered on the edge of failure—his failure.
One evening, an HR employee asked, “Is it true you know Andrei Stepanovich outside of work?”
“He’s… changed. He used to be arrogant. Now, he’s quiet. Almost polite.”
Victoria smiled. “People change when their priorities shift.”
That evening, she overheard Andrei in the break room. “I’ll be late again… No, that witch piled more work on me… What do you mean it’s my fault?!”
The next morning, her mother called. “Vika… he’s lost it…”
Victoria sped home. Andrei stood in the living room, drunk and ranting. Olga sat curled in the corner, bruised.
“Leave,” Victoria ordered.
He laughed. “You can’t make me.”
She pulled out her phone. “I have an email drafted to twenty major companies, detailing your professional failures. Add domestic abuse with photos, and what happens then?”
His laughter faded. “You have five minutes to pack.”
His shoulders slumped as he turned to Olga. “Dear…”
She didn’t look at him. “Leave,” she whispered.
The next morning, Olga smiled as they drank coffee together. “You’ve changed, daughter.”
“I know,” Victoria said, watching the first spring flowers bloom. It had all been worth it.
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