I caught my husband adding sleeping pills to my coffee, poured it out, pretended to be asleep, and was stunned.
I began to suspect that my husband was putting some kind of sleeping pill into my coffee. So, when we sat down to drink coffee with cake, I took advantage of the moment when he stepped away and quietly poured out the contents of my cup. Then I pretended to fall asleep. However, what happened next shocked me — it was simply impossible to accept.
Welcome, dear readers! Today you are in for a tense story about betrayal, greed, and a fight for one’s own home. This is a story about a woman whose intuition and determination helped her uncover a treacherous conspiracy involving her closest people. Expect unexpected twists where family trust clashes with deceit, and the pursuit of justice demands a truly strong heart. Enjoy reading and good health to you and your loved ones. Don’t forget to subscribe to our channel and like the post — it will help us grow and you won’t miss new stories.
All my life I have been proud of my ability to make quick decisions. At work, this trait only benefits me — while others hesitate, I’m already taking action.
That’s why, while on the train, I decided to come home a day earlier. Negotiations in Yekaterinburg ended even better than I expected, so why waste an extra day in a hotel when my beloved husband is waiting for me at home?
I always keep the entrance keys in my jacket pocket, so I was able to quietly climb to the fourth floor.
I didn’t even bother calling Vadim — I wanted to surprise him. My suitcase barely made a sound rolling on the stair landing floor, and I was already imagining hugging my husband and telling him about the deal I’d closed. But when I opened the door with my key, the first thing I heard was an unfamiliar male voice coming from the living room.
The total area of the apartment is 57 square meters, the kitchen is 11.5, and the combined bathroom is 4.8. I froze in the hallway. What’s going on? Who is this man in our home? And why is someone measuring my apartment? Carefully slipping off my shoes, I tiptoed toward the living room door.
Through the crack, I saw a scene that took my breath away. Tamara Ivanovna, my mother-in-law, stood in the middle of the room next to a stranger in a business suit. He was writing something in a notebook, holding a tape measure stretched from one wall to the other.
The man looked like a typical realtor — neat hairstyle, business attire, a folder with documents under his arm. “The condition is good,” he said, inspecting the walls. “Recent renovation, plastic windows, new radiators. Such an apartment can now be sold for 3 million 800 thousand, maybe even 4 million.” It felt like the ground slipped out from under me — they were asking almost four million for my home?
“What’s happening here?” asked Tamara Ivanovna. “How quickly can the deal be made? If the documents are ready, two weeks max,” replied the realtor. “But are you sure the owner agrees? Usually, people themselves come for the appraisal.” At those words, I almost choked with indignation.
“The owner? I’m standing here now, in my own apartment, listening to my mother-in-law asking how fast my own property can be sold!” I thought. Tamara Ivanovna hesitated a bit and said, “The daughter-in-law is currently on a business trip, but my son and I have already discussed everything. She, in principle, is not against it.” This was simply incredible. What “not against it”? When did Vadim and I discuss selling the apartment? And since when did his mother get the right to decide the fate of my property?
I was so stunned by what was happening that I didn’t immediately notice the front door creak — Vadim had come home. “Mom, how are you?” his voice came from the hallway. “Has Oleg Petrovich finished already?” I heard. “So, they’re in cahoots.”
“It turns out my own husband brought a realtor to our home to appraise the apartment, without even bothering to warn me in advance.” “Yes, everything is fine,” Tamara Ivanovna responded. “Oleg Petrovich says you can get good money.”
I stood in the hallway like a statue, unable to enter the room. I needed time to figure out how to react to such insolence. “Valentina Gennadyevna, you’re already home!” my mother-in-law suddenly exclaimed, noticing me in the doorway. Apparently, I was visible from the living room. Now there was no turning back — I had to deal with this immediately.
“Yes, I came back early,” I said, trying to stay calm. “So, what’s going on here?”
Tamara Ivanovna clearly didn’t expect to see me and became flustered. “Ah… we were just… Oleg Petrovich is an acquaintance, a realtor. I asked him to appraise the apartment out of curiosity. It’s interesting to know how much property in our area costs.” Out of curiosity? Of course, of course. And the notes in the notebook and questions about how fast the deal could be done — were those just out of simple curiosity too?
Oleg Petrovich, feeling the awkwardness of the situation, quickly rolled up the tape measure and said, “Well, I’ll be going then. Tamara Ivanovna, everything’s discussed — call if anything.” “Of course, Oleg Petrovich, thank you very much,” the mother-in-law busied herself, seeing him off. Vadim stood nearby silently, but I noticed some tension in his eyes.
Usually, he greeted me with hugs and questions about the business trip, but now he didn’t even come to kiss me. After the realtor left, I couldn’t hold back: “Can I know what was going on here? Why was some stranger measuring my apartment?”
Tamara Ivanovna laughed nervously: “Valya, why are you so upset? I told you — just curiosity. A friend was bragging that her apartment price had gone up, so I decided to find out the price of ours.”
“Ours?” I asked again. “Tamara Ivanovna, this is my apartment. I bought it before the marriage with my own money; it is registered in my name.” The mother-in-law blushed but continued to justify herself: “Well yes, of course, it’s yours. I’m not arguing, just interested in the market prices. What’s wrong with that?”
Vadim finally came over to me: “Valya, don’t overthink it. Mom really just asked a realtor she knows. No one is going to sell anything.”
After that conversation, the atmosphere in the house became extremely tense. Vadim was clearly nervous — dropping his fork at dinner, flinching at every sound, frequently glancing at me sideways.
I tried to start a normal conversation about work but felt that my husband was on edge. “How’s work? Any new projects?” I asked. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he muttered without looking up from his plate. “The usual routine.” Usually, he would eagerly talk about his affairs, complain about the boss, or brag about successes. But now it was as if a wall had grown between us.
In the evening, I was reading in the bedroom while Vadim walked around the apartment, looking for something in the closets, rifling through papers. He answered my questions briefly: “Oh, just nonsense — looking for a certificate.” Usually on weekends, he was more relaxed, but this time he was on pins and needles. Constantly making calls, nervously pacing rooms, going into another room to talk.
Tamara Ivanovna came by more often than usual, and she and her son whispered on the kitchen. But as soon as I appeared — they immediately fell silent and put on strained smiles. “What are you whispering about?” I once asked, walking into the kitchen where they were discussing something in hushed tones. “Oh, just family matters,” the mother-in-law brushed me off. “Don’t worry, nothing important.” But their faces betrayed the seriousness of the conversation, and I didn’t believe their chatter for a second.
On Monday, coming home from work, I found Vadim unusually affectionate. He kissed me, hugged me, and asked about every little detail of my workday. “How are you, darling? Not tired? Maybe you’ll take a bath and relax?” Such care seemed strange to me after several days of coldness and detachment.
“Thanks, but I’m not very tired,” I replied. “Then let’s have dinner, and afterwards watch TV. By the way, a new series started that you’ll like.” We had dinner in a warm atmosphere, Vadim was attentive and kind. I even began to think that I had exaggerated the problems and that the realtor situation was just a misunderstanding.
In the evening, we watched a movie and discussed it — everything was as usual. I even relaxed a little and thought that maybe I had wrongly suspected my husband of something bad. However, the next day, the atmosphere became tense again.
Vadim was distracted, answered out of place, caught my gaze several times and quickly looked away. The following day, while at work, I got a call from Tamara Ivanovna: “Valya, how are you? Feeling well?” “Thanks, fine,” I answered, surprised by such sudden interest. My mother-in-law had never called me at work before. “Vadim said you’ve been looking unwell lately. Maybe you should see a doctor? Health is the most important thing.”
“A doctor? Where did such care for my health suddenly come from? And why does Vadim discuss my well-being with his mother?” I thought. “No, I’m fine,” I answered. “Just work worries.” “Well, good. The main thing is to take care of yourself. Goodbye, dear.” After that call, I was certain — something was wrong here.
My mother-in-law had never shown interest in my health before, and now suddenly she calls and expresses concern. That evening, Vadim again offered me coffee, but I categorically refused. He tried several times to persuade me, saying it was a new kind, healthy, and that I needed to relax after work. “Vadim, I said — I don’t want coffee,” I answered irritably. “Why are you bothering me?” He got offended and sulked all evening.
At night, I heard him making a call in the hallway. He spoke quietly, but I caught some phrases: “No, it’s not working… She refuses. We need to come up with something else”…
The truth was beginning to unfold — and I was ready to fight back.
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