“What honeymoon? Mom needs a free caregiver. So pack your things and go serve her.”

That’s what my husband told me the day after our wedding.

In response, I delivered news so shocking that he literally fell where he stood.

Khloe had always considered herself a practical and far-sighted woman. In her thirty years of life, she had graduated from the faculty of economics, built a career as a financial consultant at one of the city’s largest banks, and bought her own two-room apartment in the city center.

Her friends envied her independence, and colleagues respected her for her professionalism and strong character.

The only thing spoiling the picture of a perfect life was the absence of a partner.

But everything changed seven months ago when Richard Brown entered her life.

They met in a fairly ordinary way at a fitness club where Khloe went three times a week to stay in shape. Richard was working out on a nearby machine and gallantly helped her figure out some unfamiliar equipment.

The man immediately seemed interesting to her—pleasant appearance, well read, and able to hold a conversation on any topic. Thirty-two years old, a manager at a trading company, single, and most importantly, looking for a serious relationship.

Richard didn’t hide the fact that he was tired of casual flings and wanted a woman to build a family with.

Khloe was won over.

She, too, had long dreamed of a stable relationship, but most men her age were intimidated by her success and financial independence.

With Richard, it was different.

He genuinely admired her achievements, took an interest in her work, supported her career endeavors, and courted her with style—visits to the theater, fine dining, weekend trips to the countryside.

Khloe gradually melted under the onslaught of his charm and attention.

After four months of dating, Richard introduced her to his mother.

Tiffany Brown received her future daughter-in-law rather coldly, but politely. The fifty-eight-year-old woman gave the impression of a strict but fair person, a former math teacher. She lived alone in a small three-room apartment on the outskirts of the city.

Richard explained his mother’s indifference simply: she was still grieving his father’s death, which had occurred five years ago.

“My mom is very cautious about new people in my life,” he explained to Khloe after the lukewarm meeting. “But once she gets to know you better, she’ll definitely love you. You’re wonderful, after all.”

Khloe didn’t take offense.

She understood that for an older woman, meeting her son’s new partner was always stressful.

Besides, Tiffany looked somewhat frail—pale, frequently coughing, complaining about blood pressure and back pain.

Richard cared for his mother tenderly, visiting regularly, helping with groceries and medications.

Six months into the relationship, Richard proposed.

It happened in a romantic setting on the rooftop of a high-rise restaurant, by candlelight and under the stars.

Khloe was ready for this moment and agreed without hesitation.

The ring was modest but elegant, exactly to her taste.

“I’m so happy,” she admitted to her fiancé, gazing at the ring on her finger. “Honestly, I had begun to doubt I’d ever meet the one.”

“And I always knew I’d find you,” Richard replied gently, kissing her hand. “We’ll be very happy. You’ll see.”

They decided to have the wedding in two months.

Khloe threw herself into the joyful preparations—choosing a dress, finding a venue for the reception, making the guest list. Richard supported all her decisions, occasionally offering minor suggestions.

For example, he insisted that the reception be modest, only the closest people.

“Why spend unnecessarily?” he reasoned. “Better to spend this money on the honeymoon. I’m already looking at travel packages. The weather is great now, and prices aren’t high yet.”

Khloe fully supported the idea of a small wedding. She had never liked lavish celebrations and preferred spending money on travel.

Richard seemed like the perfect man—practical, caring, understanding.

Even her mother gradually warmed up and began to treat her future son-in-law more kindly.

A month before the wedding, Khloe went to the salon for the final dress fitting. She had chosen a simple but elegant style—an ivory satin dress without unnecessary embellishments or ruffles.

In the mirror reflected a happy woman ready to start a new life.

Richard came to pick her up from the salon after the fitting. Khloe asked him to wait in the car. Seeing the dress before the wedding was considered bad luck.

She changed back into her everyday clothes and walked out of the salon carrying the garment bag.

By the car, Richard was talking on the phone.

Khloe didn’t want to eavesdrop, but her fiancé’s voice was quite loud.

“Yes, everything is going according to plan,” he said. “Soon, Mom will have a full-time helper. No more paying for those expensive caregivers.”

Khloe froze.

What helper was he talking about? And what did caregivers have to do with it?

Tiffany, of course, didn’t look very healthy, but not to the extent of needing medical staff.

Richard noticed his bride and quickly ended the conversation. He turned to her with a smile.

“Well, beautiful already. You’ll only show me the dress on the wedding day.”

“Richard,” Khloe cautiously approached her fiancé, “I accidentally overheard part of your conversation. You were talking about some helper for your mom…and caregivers. Did something happen to her? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Richard’s face twisted into a strange grimace for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure and laughed.

“Oh, that? I was talking to a friend about his mom. She’s going through a difficult recovery period after surgery, so they had to hire nurses, which was very expensive. I suggested he ask his niece to help. She’s a medical professional.”

The reasoning sounded logical, and Khloe calmed down.

Richard helped her into the car, and they drove to her home.

Yet a strange sense of unease lingered with her until the evening.

A few days later, another odd incident occurred.

Khloe went into a pharmacy to buy vitamins and accidentally saw Tiffany at the counter. Her mother-in-law was buying large quantities of medication—boxes of pills, packs of bandages, even crutches.

Yet she moved around quite briskly without any assistance.

Khloe wanted to approach and greet her, but Tiffany, noticing her, hurriedly paid and left the pharmacy without saying a word.

This seemed strange to the bride-to-be, but she decided not to dwell on it.

Perhaps her mother-in-law was simply embarrassed to buy medical supplies, or didn’t want to discuss health issues.

Two weeks before the wedding, Khloe and Richard had their first serious conflict.

Khloe suggested inviting her parents, who lived in another city, to the wedding.

“Why unnecessary expenses?” her fiancé waved it off. “It’s a long trip for them. Hotels are expensive. We’ll visit them later—celebrate separately.”

“But it’s my wedding,” Khloe protested. “How can I get married without my parents?”

“Come on now,” Richard got slightly irritated. “You’re an adult independent woman. What’s with the childish whims? We’re saving on the wedding to spend money on the honeymoon and our future life together.”

The argument almost escalated into a serious quarrel. Khloe was ready to cancel the wedding, but in the end, Richard relented—though with the air of someone doing her a huge favor.

Her parents agreed to come even though it was difficult for her mother to travel due to heart problems.

A week before the wedding, a second event occurred that finally made Khloe uneasy.

She was sitting in a café near her workplace waiting for a friend to discuss the final wedding preparations. A stranger entered the café—about thirty, slim, short haircut, dressed plainly.

She glanced around and decisively approached Khloe’s table.

“Excuse me. Are you Khloe Cooper?” the stranger asked, sitting down uninvited.

“Yes… and you are?” Khloe asked, surprised.

“My name is Cheryl Smith. I’m Richard Brown’s ex-wife.”

Khloe’s breath caught in her throat.

Richard had never mentioned being married. On the contrary, he had always said he hadn’t had serious relationships before meeting her.

“I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken,” Khloe stammered. “Richard never told me about a previous marriage.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Cheryl said bitterly, smirking. “He doesn’t tell much at all. I found out about your wedding by chance. A friend of mine works at the same bank as you. I decided to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?” Khloe felt her hands grow cold.

Cheryl looked at her intently and said quietly, “Beware of Tiffany. She’s very skilled at pretending to be ill.”

“What do you mean?” Khloe leaned closer.

“I was married to Richard for three years,” Cheryl began. “The first six months were wonderful. Then his mother got sick—or rather, started pretending to be sick. At first, it was minor headaches, fluctuating blood pressure. Then more serious back pain, heart issues. Richard insisted that I move in with them and take care of his mother.”

“And you agreed?” Khloe whispered.

“I was young and foolish. I thought it was temporary. But temporary turned permanent. I became a servant in their house—cleaning, cooking, washing, caring for the supposedly ill mother. And she felt perfectly fine when she thought I wasn’t looking.”

“Why did you divorce?” Khloe already guessed the answer.

“I couldn’t take it. After three years, I realized I was just being used. I filed for divorce. Richard didn’t resist. He was already looking for the next candidate.”

Cheryl stood and placed a hand on Khloe’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to ruin your life, but I can’t stay silent. This man is incapable of real love. He doesn’t need a wife. He needs a servant for his mother. Think carefully before tying your life to him.”

After Cheryl left, Khloe sat in the café for a long time, trying to process the information.

On one hand, the ex-wife could be lying out of jealousy or a desire for revenge. On the other hand, her story explained many of the oddities in Richard and his mother’s behavior.

That evening, Khloe decided to confront her fiancé about his previous marriage directly.

“Richard, I need to clarify something,” she said when they met at her home. “Have you ever been married?”

Richard’s face turned stone cold.

“Where did you get such nonsense?” he replied coldly.

“Today, a woman spoke to me who said she was your ex-wife. Cheryl Smith.”

“I have no idea who that is,” Richard cut her off. “Probably some crazy person. Khloe, do you really trust a stranger more than me?”

He sounded so genuinely indignant that Khloe began to doubt herself. Maybe this Cheryl really was unstable, or had confused him with someone else.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just really nervous about the wedding. That’s probably why all sorts of silly thoughts come to mind.”

“Of course you’re nervous,” Richard hugged her and kissed her forehead. “It’s normal. But don’t let outsiders plant doubts in your head. We love each other, and that’s what matters.”

On the day of the wedding, Khloe woke up with a slight feeling of unease that she couldn’t explain. Maybe it really was just pre-wedding nerves.

She tried not to think about the strange coincidences of the past few weeks and focused on the upcoming celebration.

The registry office ceremony was touching and beautiful. In her elegant ivory dress, Khloe felt like a true princess. Richard looked very smart in his new suit. When they exchanged rings, his eyes shone with genuine tenderness, and all of Khloe’s doubts melted away.

About twenty guests attended the banquet—the closest family and friends from both sides.

Khloe’s parents, despite the difficulties of the trip, looked happy.

Tiffany was also present at the celebration and, surprisingly, looked significantly better than usual. Her mother-in-law was dressed in a beautiful burgundy dress, neatly groomed, and even wearing makeup. She moved freely around the room, socialized with guests, and danced with her son to the slow music.

There were no signs of illness or frailty.

But during one dance, a third unsettling moment occurred.

Tiffany approached Khloe, who was resting at a table after another dance with her husband.

“Well, dear, now you’re officially part of our family,” her mother-in-law said with a smile that seemed slightly insincere to Khloe.

“Thank you, Tiffany,” Khloe replied. “I’m very happy.”

“You know, I have a request.” Tiffany lowered her voice and leaned closer. “After the honeymoon, come visit me more often. I live alone and it gets boring. And my health has been acting up lately.”

“Of course, I’ll visit,” Khloe agreed. “But what exactly is bothering you? Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“Doctors help?” Tiffany waved her hand dismissively. “My back hurts, my blood pressure spikes, and my heart aches. Sometimes I can’t get up. Sometimes I don’t have the strength to go to the store. Good thing Alyosha helps, but he has to work, too. There’s not enough time.”

Khloe looked at her mother-in-law in surprise. Half an hour ago, she had been dancing energetically and seemed perfectly lively. Now she had suddenly turned into a frail old woman complaining about her health.

“And what do the doctors say?” Khloe asked.

“What can they say?” Tiffany waved again. “Your age? Take some pills. And what’s the use of these pills? I need someone nearby to look after me—help around the house. But caregivers are so expensive, I can’t afford them.”

At that moment, Richard approached them.

“What are you ladies talking about?” he asked cheerfully.

“Oh, just telling Khloe about my ailments,” his mother replied. “I’m saying that after your return, I’ll be asking for help quite often.”

“I hope my daughter-in-law won’t refuse a sick old woman.”

“Of course she won’t refuse,” Richard said quickly, not letting Khloe respond. “Right, darling? We’re family now. We have to help each other.”

Khloe nodded, but a strange unease settled in her heart.

Cheryl’s words echoed in her mind with new intensity: Beware of Tiffany. She’s very skilled at pretending to be ill.

The rest of the banquet passed in a normal festive atmosphere, but Khloe couldn’t fully relax.

She carefully observed her mother-in-law and noticed odd details.

Tiffany would complain about back pain, yet a minute later bend down to tie a shoelace. She would speak of weakness, yet carry heavy bags of gifts herself.

Maybe she really has a chronic illness, Khloe thought. There are periods of flare-ups and remissions. Perhaps I’m being too suspicious after talking to that woman.

By the end of the evening, fatigue took over and Khloe stopped analyzing her mother-in-law’s behavior.

Tomorrow awaited their honeymoon—two weeks of sun, sea, and romance.

All the oddities and suspicions could be sorted out later in a calm setting.

As guests began to leave, the newlyweds said their goodbyes to family. Tiffany hugged her daughter-in-law tightly.

“Wishing you happiness, dear, and after your trip, be sure to come visit me. I’ll be waiting.”

Khloe’s parents were leaving the next day, so the farewell was particularly touching.

“Be happy, my daughter,” said her mother, kissing Khloe goodbye. “Richard seems like a good man. The most important thing is that you understand and respect each other.”

“I will,” Khloe promised. “As soon as we get back from the trip, we’ll come visit you.”

At home, while changing out of her wedding clothes, Khloe looked at herself in the mirror. Her face showed fatigue, but her eyes shone with happiness.

She had officially become the wife of the man she loved. All doubts and worries were now in the past.

Richard hugged her from behind and kissed her neck.

“So, Mrs. Brown… ready for a new life?”

“Ready?” Khloe smiled, leaning against her husband’s chest. “I can’t wait for tomorrow’s trip. When was the last time we went to the sea?”

“You’ll find out soon,” Richard replied mysteriously. “I have a surprise for you.”

Lying down on the first night of their married life, Khloe felt completely happy.

Tomorrow, their honeymoon would begin, followed by a long life together.

Everything would be fine.

But in the morning, her newlywed husband had a surprise for her that shattered all her rosy plans and dreams in an instant.

Khloe woke up the day after the wedding feeling slightly hung over but pleasantly tired. The sun was already high in the sky and the clock showed half past nine.

Richard was sleeping peacefully next to her, arms sprawled across the bed.

The first day of married life.

Khloe smiled and stretched.

Today they were supposed to get ready for their trip. The plane departed at seven p.m., so they had plenty of time to take it slow.

She quietly got up so as not to wake her husband and went to make breakfast.

Her eyes fell on two suitcases prepared the night before—one with her things, the other with Richard’s.

The anticipation of a two-week seaside vacation filled her heart with joy.

She imagined walking along the promenade, sunbathing on the beach, and having dinner at restaurants with a view of the sea.

Richard woke up to the smell of coffee and appeared in the kitchen fully dressed.

This struck Khloe as strange. Usually, he liked to wander around the house in casual clothes—especially on weekends.

“Good morning, wife,” he said, but his voice sounded tense, lacking its usual warmth.

“Good morning, husband,” Khloe replied playfully, handing him a cup of coffee. “Ready for the honeymoon?”

Richard didn’t answer immediately.

He sat at the table, sipped his coffee slowly, and stared out the window. Khloe noticed a muscle twitching nervously in his cheek.

“Listen, Khloe,” he finally said without looking at her. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Khloe felt a chill run through her body. His tone didn’t bode well.

Richard stood from the table and paced the kitchen. Then he stopped abruptly and turned to his wife.

“What honeymoon? My mother needs a free caretaker, so pack your things and go serve her.”

Khloe froze, holding her cup of coffee.

For several seconds, she couldn’t believe what she had heard.

Then she slowly set the cup down and stood up.

“Repeat that,” she said quietly. “I think I misheard you.”

“You heard me perfectly,” Richard snapped. “Mom felt terrible after the banquet yesterday. She needs constant care. You don’t have any medical training, but you have plenty of free time… sitting at home counting money.”

“I work at a bank,” Khloe protested. “I have a responsible position.”

“Big deal. A bank,” Richard snorted disdainfully. “You move papers around. And here, a real person needs help. Your husband’s own mother. Is it really too much trouble for you to fulfill your family duty?”

Khloe looked at her husband and didn’t recognize him.

Where was the attentive, caring Richard, who admired her work and supported her in everything?

Standing before her was a stranger with cold eyes and a haughty expression.

“And the honeymoon?” she asked in a trembling voice.

“Forget about the honeymoon.” Richard waved her off. “Mother is more important than your whims. You’ll live with her. Care for her. Help around the house. That’s your duty as a wife and daughter-in-law.”

Khloe felt a wave of rage rise inside her.

Yesterday’s doubts and suspicions were forming a clear picture.

The words of his ex-wife, Cheryl, echoed in her mind with new force.

“I see,” she said with icy calm. “And if I refuse?”

“You won’t refuse,” Richard said confidently. “You’re a decent woman. Besides, where will you go? We’re family now—sharing household life and finances.”

“Sharing finances,” Khloe repeated.

Steel crept into her voice, unnoticed by Richard.

“Yes, you suggested opening a joint account yourself. Very convenient for the family budget.”

Khloe nodded slowly and moved toward the computer.

Richard watched her with confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Checking our joint family budget,” Khloe replied calmly, logging into the banking system.

For several minutes, she silently studied the account records. What she saw exceeded her worst fears.

Three days ago—the day before the wedding—a large sum had been withdrawn from their joint account, an amount equal to the cost of the vacation packages.

“Richard,” she called to her husband without turning around. “Come here.”

“What now?” He grumbled, annoyed, but came over. “Explain this transaction to me.”

Khloe pointed at the screen.

“A refund from the tour operator… to your personal card. On Friday—the day before our wedding.”

Richard’s face went pale.

“That… that was me canceling the booking,” he mumbled. “Mom got sick and I realized I couldn’t leave her alone.”

“You canceled our honeymoon—paid for from our joint account—the day before the wedding,” Khloe said slowly, “and transferred the money to your personal account without informing me.”

“I wanted to—” Richard began to defend himself.

Khloe interrupted, her voice steady.

“This morning, after you told me I was supposed to become your mother’s servant…” She stood and stared at her husband. “You know what’s really interesting? I deposited that money into our joint account. My personal savings—which I had been saving for our trip.”

She took one step closer.

“You stole my money and spent it on your own needs.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Richard snapped. “What’s stealing? We’re family.”

“Family,” Khloe scoffed, “and family members usually deceive each other, hide the cancellation of a honeymoon, and demand one become a free servant.”

Richard opened his mouth to reply, but Khloe wouldn’t let him speak.

“You know what, dear husband? In response, I’m going to give you news that will make you drop dead where you stand. Tomorrow, I’m filing for divorce and demanding all my money back—the money you took without my knowledge.”

Richard actually staggered and grabbed the back of a chair.

“You… you can’t,” he whispered. “We just got married yesterday.”

“What will people say?”

“I don’t care what people say,” Khloe replied coldly. “People won’t live my life for me, and they won’t endure humiliation in my place.”

She went into the bedroom and began transferring Richard’s things from the suitcase into bags.

“What are you doing?” the bewildered husband followed her.

“Packing your things. You’ll vacate my apartment today.”

“Wait.” Richard tried to grab her hand. “Let’s talk calmly. Maybe I was too harsh about my mother.”

Khloe freed herself and spun around sharply.

“You called me a free caretaker. Demanded I quit my job to serve your mother. Stole my money—and that’s ‘too harsh’?”

“I didn’t steal,” Richard protested. “That was joint money.”

“Joint.” Khloe pulled a folder of records from the desk drawer. “Here—records from my personal account. Here—transfers into the joint account. All the sums are mine.”

“And where is your contribution to the family budget?”

Richard was silent, studying the pages. He had nothing to say. Indeed, all the large sums in the joint account had been deposited by Khloe.

“Now explain something else,” she continued, taking Richard’s phone, which he had left in the bedroom. “Your phone password is my date of birth. Touching, isn’t it?”

“You have no right to go through my phone,” Richard lunged at her.

“I do,” Khloe pushed him aside. “I’m your legal wife. At least for now.”

She started scrolling through the messages.

What she found finally put all the pieces together.

Correspondence with his mother dated back a month earlier.

Richard: “How’s the fiancée? Agreed to a modest wedding.”

Tiffany: “Yes, mom. Everything’s going according to plan. I’m saying we’re saving on the honeymoon.”

Tiffany: “Good. Did you tell her about my illness?”

Richard: “Only hints. After the wedding, I’ll announce that you need constant care.”

Tiffany: “Excellent. Finally, I won’t have to hire a cleaner, and I won’t have to cook either. Just make sure she doesn’t resist. I think she’ll have nowhere to go. Her apartment is nice. We’ll sell it later.”

Richard: “Sell it. And where will we live?”

Tiffany: “You have a three-room apartment. We’ll manage. And we’ll rent her apartment—it brings in good income.”

The rest of the messages were in the same tone. They discussed how to tame the young wife, how to make her quit her job, and even drafted a rough schedule of her household duties.

Khloe silently handed the phone to Richard.

Reading a few messages, he turned even paler.

“That… that’s not what you think,” he began to defend himself.

“Then what is it?” Khloe asked. “Not a plan to turn me into a house slave? Not a scheme to sell my apartment? Not a discussion on how to deceive me?”

“Mom really is sick,” Richard exclaimed. “She needs help.”

“Sick,” Khloe scoffed. “Yesterday at the wedding, she danced better than me. And last week at the pharmacy, she was running around like a young woman.”

“You watched her?” Richard asked in surprise.

“I ran into her by chance. Your sick mother was buying crutches and bandages—apparently preparing for the role of a feeble old lady.”

Richard realized he had been caught. His shoulders slumped and he sank heavily onto the bed.

“Listen, Khloe,” he began in a different tone. “Maybe we really didn’t start off right. But Mom lives alone. It’s hard for her. And we have everything—jobs, an apartment. Can’t we help a family member?”

“Helping is possible,” Khloe agreed. “Visiting, buying groceries and medicine, inviting her over—but not becoming a servant, and not giving up your own life.”

“All right,” Richard tried a different tone. “Let’s find a compromise. You won’t go to Mom every day—only on weekends—and of course, not quit your job.”

Khloe shook her head.

“It’s too late for compromises. You’ve shown your true face, and your plans with your mother were completely different.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

Khloe looked through the peephole and saw Tiffany holding a large bag.

“Who’s that?” Richard asked.

“Your mother. Looks like she came to check on the plan.”

Khloe opened the door.

Tiffany entered the apartment with the air of a full-fledged mistress.

“Hello, dear daughter,” she said in a tone that brooked no objection. Richard told me about my condition. I felt really awful after yesterday’s banquet.”

Yet the mother-in-law looked perfectly lively and energetic.

She walked into the living room, surveyed the space with an appraising glance, and pulled several sheets of paper from her bag.

“Here, I’ve prepared a daily schedule,” she announced, handing the papers to Khloe, “so you’ll know what to do and when. Young people these days are so disorganized.”

Khloe took the papers and skimmed through them.

What she saw were audacious rules of living for Khloe.

“Wake up at 6:00. Prepare breakfast. Clean the apartment daily. Vacuum, mop, wash floors. Laundry every other day. Lunch ready by 1:00 p.m. Dinner by 7:00 p.m. Assistance with taking medications morning and evening. Back and leg massage before bed. Meeting friends only with mother-in-law’s permission. Leaving the house, coordinate in advance. TV: watch only programs approved by mother-in-law.”

The list went on for another one and a half pages, including rules like: “Do not speak loudly,” “Do not cook spicy food,” and even: “Do not wear short skirts.”

Khloe slowly raised her eyes to her mother-in-law.

“Is this a joke?”

“What joke?” Tiffany looked surprised. “This is a normal schedule for a good daughter-in-law. Young people nowadays are completely lazy.”

“And you think I’m going to follow this?” Khloe clarified.

“What’s the big deal?” The mother-in-law shrugged. “Cleaning and cooking still have to be done. And I’ll teach you how to do everything properly.”

Khloe turned to Richard.

“And you approve of this?”

Richard fidgeted, unsure of what to say. On one hand, his mother’s demands. On the other, he didn’t dare contradict her.

“Well… maybe some points can be discussed,” he said hesitantly.

“Discuss?” Tiffany was outraged. “Richard, we agreed. You promised that your wife would help me.”

“Promised?” Khloe asked. “When did you promise that? We only got married yesterday.”

“We discussed it a month ago,” Richard slipped—and then quickly fell silent.

“A month ago,” Khloe repeated. “So even before the wedding, you were planning my life. Assigning my duties without me.”

The mother-in-law realized her son had said too much and hurriedly took control.

“Darling, you don’t understand. I have serious health problems—heart, back, blood pressure. I need constant help.”

“Constant help,” Khloe nodded. “And yesterday at the wedding, you danced for two hours straight without tiring.”

“I have good days,” Tiffany quickly improvised. “But they’re rare. Mostly, I’m bedridden.”

“Bedridden,” Khloe repeated, pulling out her phone. “And yesterday at 11 p.m., when all the guests had already left—what were you doing?”

“Sleeping, of course,” her mother-in-law replied.

“Not quite.”

Khloe showed the phone screen.

“Yesterday at 11 p.m. you were messaging your son: ‘Everything went perfectly. Come with your wife tomorrow and we’ll start the educational work.’”

Tiffany turned pale and glanced at her son.

Richard lowered his eyes, guilty.

“Educational work,” Khloe repeated. “So I need to be educated. Tamed—as written in your messages.”

“Where did you get the messages?” the mother-in-law asked, flustered.

“From a camel,” Khloe replied sharply. “And now listen carefully, both of you. No educational work will happen. No servitude either. I’m filing for divorce and demanding restitution of all the stolen money.”

“Divorce?” Tiffany gasped. “How dare you, girl? You got married. Endure it. Your husband said to move in with me, then move.”

“I won’t endure anything,” Khloe answered firmly. “And I’m not moving anywhere. This is my apartment. I’m the owner here.”

The mother-in-law turned to her son.

“Richard! Are you going to let some girl talk to me like that? Put her in her place.”

Richard looked at his wife uncertainly.

“Khloe, maybe don’t be so harsh. Mom really does need help.”

“One more word in favor of this plan,” Khloe warned, “and you’ll be flying out the door with Mommy.”

Richard fell silent.

Tiffany went on the offensive.

“Ungrateful girl. I took you into the family as my own. And what do you do? Immediately show your true nature.”

“My true nature?” Khloe smirked. “And your true nature is deception and fraud—pretending to be sick just to get free servants.”

“I’m not pretending,” her mother-in-law protested. “I really am in pain.”

“Then go to a doctor,” Khloe advised. “Get examined. Get treated. Don’t make cleaning schedules for your daughter-in-law.”

“She won’t go to a doctor,” Richard interjected. “She’s afraid of checkups.”

“I’m not afraid,” his mother snapped back. “It’s just that these doctors don’t understand anything. They say I’m healthy.”

Khloe looked triumphantly at her husband.

“Did you hear that? The doctors say she’s healthy. And you plan to turn me into a caretaker for a healthy person.”

Tiffany realized she had spoken too much and tried to fix the situation.

“Doctors don’t see everything. They’re young, inexperienced. And I know my body better.”

“Of course you do,” Khloe agreed. “And you know you don’t need any help. You need a free housekeeper and cook. But it won’t be me.”

She picked up Richard’s bags and handed them to him.

“Take your belongings and get out of my house. Both of you.”

“Khloe,” Richard pleaded. “Give me a chance to fix everything. I’ll find a real caretaker for Mom if necessary.”

“Too late,” Khloe cut him off. “You’ve shown who you really are. I don’t need relatives like that.”

Tiffany stood up and headed for the door.

“Come on, Richard. There’s nothing for us here. Clearly, we misjudged this one. Thought she was a decent girl, but she turned out selfish.”

“Selfish?” Khloe repeated. “Is it selfish not to want to be deceived—not to agree to be a servant?”

“Is it selfish to refuse help to a sick person?” the mother-in-law blurted out.

“A sick person?” Khloe corrected.

Khloe took out her phone and showed a video filmed the day before at the wedding.

“Here’s your dancing, Tiffany. Two hours straight. A sick person doesn’t dance like that.”

The mother-in-law and son exchanged glances.

Richard grabbed the bags and headed for the exit. At the door, he turned back.

“Khloe, I’ll wait until you calm down. We can fix everything.”

“Wait,” she replied coldly. “Only I’ll file the divorce papers tomorrow.”

Once the door closed behind them, Khloe leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

What a nightmare.

Less than a day of married life—and such revelations.

Good thing everything became clear so quickly. One could only imagine what would have happened if she had agreed to their plan.

Her phone rang. It was her friend Linda.

“Hi, newlywed. How’s the honeymoon?”

“Hi,” Khloe answered wearily. “There’s no honeymoon. I’m getting a divorce.”

“What? Already? What happened?”

Khloe briefly explained the situation to her friend. Linda listened, occasionally gasping and sighing.

“Those scoundrels. How did you not notice earlier?”

“Notice what?” Khloe replied. “He played the part of the perfect groom while hiding everything else carefully.”

“Well,” her friend reassured her, “at least it all came out quickly. Otherwise, you’d be living with them and suffering.”

“Yeah,” Khloe agreed. “Now the main thing is to handle the split properly and get my money back.”

After the call, she sat at her computer researching separation law and property division. A tough battle lay ahead, but she was ready.

No one would turn her into a servant. No one would control her life.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Richard was explaining to his mother that their plan had failed and they’d have to find other ways to solve their problems.

The first week after expelling Richard and his mother, Khloe was in a strange state. On one hand, relief that she no longer had to pretend and play the happy bride. On the other, bitterness overshadowed hopes and illusions.

She had taken leave for her honeymoon, and now the days dragged slowly and drearily.

Richard called every day, asking to meet, promising to fix everything. Khloe didn’t answer. What was there left to discuss? Everything had already been said.

She asked her friend Linda to find a good family law attorney.

“Are you sure you want a divorce?” Linda asked during their café meeting. “Maybe he’ll really change. Men can be foolish sometimes, especially when it comes to their mothers.”

“Linda, did you see that list of demands?” Khloe replied wearily. “It said who I could talk to, what I could watch on TV, what to wear. This isn’t foolishness. It’s a whole system of control—carefully planned in advance.”

“Yeah,” her friend agreed. “Then you definitely shouldn’t get involved with them. By the way, I found a lawyer—Beatrice Wilson. Very experienced. You can see her tomorrow.”

The next day, Khloe went to the law firm.

Beatrice turned out to be a woman in her fifties with sharp eyes and a professional demeanor.

“So, the marriage lasted one day,” she noted, examining the paperwork. “That’s certainly a record. Usually, people try to preserve the relationship for at least a month.”

“In this case, there was nothing to preserve,” Khloe explained. “It turned out my husband married me to get a free housekeeper for his mother.”

Beatrice listened attentively, occasionally asking clarifying questions.

“An unpleasant situation, but legally not very complicated,” she summarized. “The marriage was short-term, no children. The property is yours. The only issue is getting money back from the joint account. You’ll need proof that it was you who made the transfers.”

“I have proof,” Khloe said, handing over a folder with account records. “All the transfers are documented.”

“Excellent. One more question: are you sure you know everything about your husband? Such schemes are rarely one-time occurrences.”

Khloe paused to think. Indeed, what if this wasn’t the first time? She remembered meeting Cheryl Smith, who claimed to be Richard’s ex-wife.

“Beatrice… is there a way to check a person’s marital history? Find out how many times they’ve been married?”

“There is,” the lawyer nodded. “But official requests take time. It’s faster to hire a private investigator. I have a trusted specialist—Leon Kennedy. Very competent man.”

“Won’t that be too expensive?” Khloe hesitated.

“Trust me, it’s better to spend a little now than to deal with the consequences later. If your husband is a fraud, the more you learn about him, the easier it will be both for the annulment and for getting your money back.”

That evening, Khloe met with the investigator.

Leon turned out to be a middle-aged man, unremarkable in appearance, but with very sharp eyes.

“Richard Brown,” he repeated, writing down the details. “Date of birth, last known address…”

Khloe dictated everything she knew about her husband. There wasn’t much information. After seven months of knowing him, Richard hadn’t shared much about his past.

“Interesting,” the investigator murmured. “People usually tell more about themselves. All right. I’ll get to work. In three or four days, you should have results.”

Khloe returned home and tried to focus on her usual tasks. The apartment felt too quiet after all the recent upheavals. She turned on the TV but couldn’t concentrate on the programs. Her thoughts kept returning to Richard and his strange behavior.

The next day at work, colleagues bombarded her with questions about the honeymoon. Khloe briefly explained that the wedding trip had been canceled due to family circumstances. No one pressed for details. The bank knew how to respect employees’ privacy.

However, her department head, Austin White, stopped by during lunch.

“Khloe, I have a delicate question for you. Your husband called yesterday asking about your salary, saying he was planning the family budget.”

Khloe felt a chill inside.

“And what did you tell him?”

“Nothing, of course. That’s confidential information. But the very fact that he called worried me. Usually spouses discuss these things directly, not through third parties.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Khloe said. “We’re going through a difficult period in our relationship right now.”

“I understand,” nodded the manager. “If there are more calls, let me know. We take such situations very seriously.”

That evening, Khloe called Detective Leon.

“Can you speed up the investigation? New circumstances have come up.”

“Already working on it,” Leon replied. “And I found something interesting. We can meet tomorrow morning.”

At the meeting, the investigator spread several folders on the table.

“Your husband is, to put it mildly, an interesting character. Let’s start with the main point. He’s been married more than once.”

“How many?” Khloe asked tensely.

“Officially three times. Unofficially, possibly more.”

Leon opened the first folder.

“First marriage: 2012. Wife—Nancy Price, a nurse. Divorced after two years. Reason listed: irreconcilable differences.”

“And in reality?” Khloe asked.

“I spoke with Nancy. Same scheme: marriage, demand to care for a sick ‘mother-in-law,’ turning her into a house servant. She lasted two years, then ran away.”

The investigator opened the second folder.

“Second marriage: 2015. Cheryl Smith, an accountant. Divorce finalized in 2018.”

“That’s the woman who warned me,” Khloe exclaimed.

“Correct. By the way, she asked me to send her regards—and to tell you she’s not surprised by how things turned out.”

“And the third marriage?” Khloe asked.

The investigator’s expression darkened.

“The third marriage: 2019. Sarah King, sales consultant. And you know what? The divorce still hasn’t been finalized.”

Khloe gasped.

“So he married me while still being married to another woman.”

“Technically, your marriage is invalid,” said the investigator. “But that’s actually a good thing. The annulment process is simpler than a divorce.”

“And where is this Sarah now?” Khloe asked.

“She moved to another city to live with her parents,” Leon replied. “She couldn’t handle life with the Browns and his ‘mother’ either—but technically she’s still married to him.”

Khloe sat in stunned silence, digesting the information.

“That’s not all,” the investigator continued. “I checked the property records. The apartment Tiffany lives in really belongs to Richard. He bought it three years ago.”

“Bought it?” Khloe exclaimed. “She said it was her apartment inherited from her husband.”

“Lies,” the investigator nodded. “More than that, the purchase records state the apartment was acquired as a rental property—meaning it was originally intended as a source of income.”

He pulled out a few more pages and added, “And here’s the most interesting part. Your husband has serious debts. A $30,000 loan is four months overdue. The lender is threatening legal action.”

“$30,000?” Khloe whispered. “But he said he had a stable job and no debts.”

“He does have a job,” the investigator explained, “but the salary is small. And the loan was taken to buy that very apartment for Tiffany. Apparently, he expected to quickly find a wife who would help with the payments.”

Khloe felt dizzy.

“And what about his mother?” she asked. “Tiffany.”

Leon smirked.

“That’s a whole other story. She’s not his mother.”

“What?” Khloe jumped in her chair.

“His real mother died ten years ago,” the investigator continued. “And this woman is his accomplice. Her real name is Tiffany—fifty-six years old. She has a record for fraud and served two years’ probation.”

“It can’t be,” Khloe whispered.

“Moreover, they’ve been living together for five years. Not as mother and son, but as cohabitants. The whole act with the sick mother is a way to lure women into a trap.”

Khloe sank into her chair. The scale of the deception was beyond her wildest guesses.

“So it was all lies?” she asked.

“Absolutely everything,” the investigator replied sympathetically. “They are professional con artists. Richard finds single women with good incomes and property, courts them, and marries them. Then Tiffany pretends to be a sick mother-in-law in need of care. The wife becomes free labor and, at the same time, a sponsor of their lifestyle.”

“And what happens when the wife starts resisting?” Khloe asked.

“It varies. Some endure for years, some run away quickly. But they always manage to get the money first.”

The investigator gathered the folders.

“I have contacts for all his ex-wives. You can talk to them. They will confirm the scheme. It will help in court.”

Khloe took the folders and slowly stood up.

“Thank you. Now I know who I was dealing with.”

At home, she spent a long time studying the collected materials.

A horrifying picture emerged.

Richard and Tiffany operated as a well-coordinated team of scammers. He seduced. She played the helpless old lady. Together, they robbed trusting women.

The phone rang. The screen showed Richard’s name.

This time, Khloe answered.

“Yes, Richard.”

Finally, she heard an anxious voice.

“I was so worried. We need to talk.”

“Talk?” Khloe asked coldly. “About what?”

“About how you deceived me from the very first day we met.”

“I didn’t deceive you,” he said. “I just didn’t tell you everything at once.”

“Not everything,” Khloe smirked. “For example, you forgot to mention that you’re still married to Sarah.”

There was silence on the line.

“How do you know?” Richard finally whispered.

“And you also forgot to tell me that your ‘mommy’ isn’t your mother, but a cohabitant and an accomplice in fraud.”

“Khloe, listen—”

“No. You listen,” she cut him off. “Tomorrow, I’ll file for annulment of our marriage and demand reimbursement for all the stolen money. I’ll also hand the materials over to the police so they can investigate your scam.”

“You can’t do that,” Richard snapped. “That’s slander.”

“I can,” Khloe replied calmly. “I have the paperwork and statements from your ex-wives. The court will sort it out.”

She hung up and blocked Richard’s number.

She didn’t want to hear from him ever again.

The next day, Khloe went to her lawyer with the new materials.

Beatrice examined the folders and whistled.

“My goodness, what a case you have. This is practically an entire criminal gang.”

“What do we do now?” Khloe asked.

“We file for an annulment. It’s quick and straightforward. We’ll demand compensation and make sure to report the fraud to the police, and they won’t disappear.”

“They’ll try, of course,” the lawyer nodded. “But we have their address, records, and statements from victims. They’ll be found.”

The annulment process took only three weeks.

After reviewing the evidence of bigamy, the court made its decision without hesitation.

Richard didn’t show up at the hearing, apparently choosing to stay out of sight.

At the same time, the compensation process was underway. Account records clearly showed that all disputed amounts were deposited by Khloe from her personal funds. The court ordered Richard to return all the stolen money in full.

A month later, news came from the investigator handling the fraud case.

Richard and Tiffany were caught trying to pull off another scam. This time, the victim was supposed to be a retired widow with a two-room apartment downtown. They were already looking for a fourth wife.

Fortunately, the neighbors tipped off the woman that her fiancé seemed suspicious.

“And what will happen to them?” Khloe asked.

“With this many victims,” the investigator said, “they’re looking at three to four years each—possibly more if other victims come forward.”

Khloe sighed in relief.

Justice had prevailed.

Richard returned the money quickly, apparently not wanting to worsen his position before the court.

True, he had to sell that same three-room apartment, but that was no longer her problem.

Six months later, she sat in the same café where she had first met Cheryl Smith.

But this time, another woman sat across from her—Nancy, Richard’s first wife.

“You know, I’m so glad they finally got caught,” Nancy said. “After divorcing me, they became more careful and professional. You’re the first one who managed to stop them.”

“I was just lucky to realize quickly who I was dealing with,” Khloe replied modestly.

“It wasn’t just luck,” Nancy countered. “You’re a strong woman. I endured them for two years. Cheryl—for three. But you fought back immediately.”

After the meeting, Khloe walked through the city reflecting on everything that had happened.

Yes, she had lost faith in love and family happiness, but she had preserved her self-respect and independence—and that perhaps was worth more than any relationship.

Her apartment welcomed her with its familiar quiet.

But now the silence didn’t feel oppressive.

It was the silence of freedom, not loneliness.

Khloe brewed tea, put on her favorite music, and sat at her computer.

She had an idea: to write an article about her experience for a women’s magazine.

Perhaps it would help other women avoid similar traps.

“How to recognize a fraudster in a relationship,” she typed—and began to write.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the detention center, Richard Brown was telling a cellmate about the ungrateful wife he had ended up with and couldn’t understand why no one sympathized with his misfortune.

Tiffany, in the women’s cell, was complaining about modern youth who don’t respect their elders and didn’t understand why she was imprisoned. After all, she just wanted someone to take care of her.

But the time for their games was over.

Justice, albeit delayed, had been served, and Khloe began a new life without illusions about perfect princes, but with a clear confidence in her own strength.

And that was far better than any fairy tale