Built in the late 1920s, this house was originally the residence of banker Dimitar Ivanov and his wife Nadezhda Stankovic. The interior features a striking red marble fireplace in the reception room, as well as a stage for musical performances and crystal-adorned interior doors.
The house has several bedrooms, elegant terraces, a spacious study and various utility rooms. Although the original furnishings have been lost, historical records indicate that the elite Sofia residents of the time preferred Central and Western European furniture.
The exterior of the property features a large front garden bordered by an ornate wrought iron fence. A large triple staircase leads to the main entrance, and the property is also characterized by carriage portals that flank the courtyard.
These portals are reminiscent of a bygone era where one can imagine a horse-drawn carriage driving into the courtyard, while the horses and carriage wait in a specially designated area behind the house until the end of the reception.
The Ivanov family enjoyed their residence until 1944, after which the estate was nationalized. At first it served as the Romanian embassy, later as the USSR’s trade mission in Bulgaria and as the headquarters of various communist organizations with unclear functions.
In the 1990s the house was returned to Ivanov’s heirs. In 2004 it was taken over by Valentin Zlatev, director of Lukoil. Despite this change of ownership, the property, which had fallen into disrepair for decades, remains neglected and abandoned, with no apparent connection to its cultural heritage.
My Husband Gifted Me Money for Breast Implants and a Nasty Note for My Birthday
My Husband Gifted Me Money for Breast Implants and a Nasty Note for My Birthday—I Taught Him a Harsh Lesson
Nikkie thought she had the perfect marriage until her husband, Jack, gave her a cruel birthday gift that shattered her self-esteem. Jack’s obsession with perfection pushes Nikkie to devise a clever plan to reclaim her worth and teach him an unforgettable lesson.
I’ve been married to my husband Jack for over a year, but we’ve been together for six. In the beginning, it felt like a fairy tale. Jack was my best friend, my confidant, and the love of my life. Our relationship was filled with laughter, late-night talks, and a bond that felt unbreakable.
If someone had told me a year ago that my prince charming would turn into a superficial stranger, I would have laughed it off. But here I am, on the brink of unraveling a story that broke me to pieces.
It all began six months ago when Jack’s innocent trip to the gym spiraled into an obsession that shattered my self-esteem and brought our once-perfect world crashing down.
It started subtly. Jack would scroll through Instagram, stopping to show me pictures of fitness models with the “perfect” 90-60-90 figures. “Look at her, Nikkie,” he’d say, his eyes glimmering with admiration. “Isn’t she stunning? Imagine if you had a body like that.”
I laughed it off at first, thinking it was just harmless admiration. But the comments kept coming. “You know, you’d look amazing with a little more up top,” Jack said one evening as we were getting ready for bed. “Have you ever thought about getting breast implants?”
Each remark felt like a tiny dagger. I started to see myself through Jack’s eyes, and it wasn’t pretty. I saw every flaw, every imperfection. My confidence, once a source of pride, dwindled to nothing.
But the last straw came on my birthday a month ago. The day started like any other but with a hint of excitement that birthdays often bring. Jack woke me up with a bouquet of vibrant flowers, their scent filling the room with a sweetness that felt almost out of place.
“Happy birthday, Nikkie,” Jack said, leaning down to kiss my forehead. He handed me an envelope, his smile wide and proud. “Open it.”
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