I walked slowly to the built-in bar by the wall and poured myself a glass of still water, letting the coolness of the crystal calm my nerves. Behind me, Tamara Igorevna’s voice droned on — a soundtrack of disdain.
“I’ve seen better furnishing in hotel lobbies,” she remarked while adjusting her fur collar, not noticing the way Kirill’s ears turned red from embarrassment.
The temptation to snap back burned hot in my chest, but I didn’t. Not yet.
Instead, I placed the glass gently on the glass table, turned around, and said in a level voice, “Actually, I designed this house.”
Tamara blinked. Just once. A small fissure in the wall of her arrogance. “You… what?”
“I designed it. The layout, the interior. The custom furniture, the lighting, the view orientation. I built it from the ground up—with a team, of course, but I led it. This isn’t someone else’s palace, Tamara Igorevna. You’re standing in mine.”
There was a moment of silence so sharp it could slice air.
Kirill looked stunned. Even though he knew — he’d watched me stay up late with blueprints, go on endless site visits, spend months negotiating contracts — he hadn’t seen me say it out loud. Not like this.
“You built… this?” Tamara’s voice had dropped an octave. Her lips pursed like she had tasted something bitter.
“I did. After winning the international design award last year, I finally had the capital to build the home I’d dreamed of. This is my first signature project. A personal residence, but also a living portfolio. My firm opens officially next month.”
“You never said—” she started.
“No,” I interrupted gently. “You never asked.”
She looked around again — not with scorn this time, but with an expression I’d never seen on her before. Wariness. Maybe even respect.
But old habits die hard.
“Well,” she huffed, straightening her scarf, “I suppose even market girls get lucky now and then.”
I smiled. Genuinely.
“This wasn’t luck, Tamara Igorevna. This was ten years of self-discipline, sacrifice, work, and faith. The only luck I had was meeting a man who didn’t care whether I wore a designer dress or one from the corner boutique.”
I turned to Kirill.
“And the only burden I’ve ever carried,” I said calmly, “is the need to constantly prove my worth to people who never intended to see it.”
Tamara opened her mouth — but said nothing. She looked away, fixing her gaze on the lilies as if they might offer an exit.
“I’ll have Ivan bring the car around,” I said politely. “The dinner party is starting soon. You can stay here and pretend it’s someone else’s villa, or you can walk in with us—like family.”
I left the room without waiting for a reply, the sound of my heels echoing across the marble.
Behind me, the silence remained. And for the first time in years, it felt like victory.