Marina watched her son trying on a new suit. Tall, well-built, dark-haired—tomorrow her boy was getting married, and it was hard to believe. Ilya carefully studied his reflection in the mirror. He turned around, nodded in satisfaction, noting that the suit fit perfectly. “Fashionable outfit,” the young man turned to his mother. “And the color is good, it looks expensive.”

“It is expensive,” thought Marina, but aloud she said: “I’m glad you like it. I’ll definitely shed a tear at the wedding as soon as I see you in full dress.”

Ilya finally turned away from the mirror: “Mom, are you going to the wedding or what? We agreed that you wouldn’t be there.”

“We agreed, son? I thought you were joking.”

“What jokes?” The son nervously paced the room. “Did you forget what Vika’s parents are like? The wedding will be full of elites. You’ll feel like a poor relative there. I’ll start worrying about you. Mom, do you want to ruin such an important day for me?”

The son sat down next to Marina on the couch, took her hand, and gently squeezed it: “Mommy, just imagine how out of place you’ll look among those dolled-up ladies. My heart would break from such humiliation. And think about how you’ll feel. We’ll come the day after, okay? Have some tea or champagne. You can congratulate us, give us your gift.”

Marina’s heart clenched with hurt. Her own son was ashamed of her to such an extent that he was prepared to appear at his own wedding like an orphan without kin. “Why would I look out of place?” the mother retorted. “I have an appointment with a good hairdresser, I’ll get my nails done. I’ll wear a decent dress.”

“What decent dress? That blue old thing!” Ilya snapped and paced the room again.

“So that’s it.” He stood in front of his mother. “If you don’t understand the nice way, I’ll tell you straight. I don’t want to see you at the wedding. I may be… but I’m ashamed that my mother is a cleaner. I don’t want you to embarrass me in front of Vika’s relatives. Is that clear?”

Marina was shocked by her son’s confession and could not utter a word. Ilya silently took his backpack, proudly flaunted his suit, and headed for the exit. At the threshold, he stopped: “I’ll say it again, don’t come to the ceremony. No one there will be glad to see you.”

Ilya had left a few hours ago. Twilight had set in, and Marina just sat on the couch in complete stupor. She was so shocked that she couldn’t even cry. Tears came a bit later when the woman turned on the light and pulled an old album with family photos from the dresser. This album contained her entire unembellished life. Memories crashed down on Marina with such force that it was hard to breathe. An old worn photo. There she was, a two-year-old girl with blue eyes, gazing intently into the lens. Her colorful dress clearly second-hand. Beside her, a thin, strange woman with a vacant look and a foolish smile. Even in the poor photo, it was evident that the woman was in high spirits.
Marina was two and a half when her mother lost parental rights and disappeared from her daughter’s life forever. As she grew older, the girl never tried to find her wayward mother. Why bother?

A group photo. Ten-year-old Marina with rebellious golden curls stands in the second row, third from the left. Life in the orphanage was no picnic.

The institution where Marina was raised resembled the troubled shelters from documentary films about the nineties. Cooks were caught stealing food, educators didn’t mince words, and the director turned a blind eye to bullying, uninterested in the methods older children used to maintain discipline.

Three attractive girls in waitress uniforms flirtatiously posed for a photographer on the porch of a building with a crooked sign. After school, Marina didn’t think too much about choosing a profession and quickly got a job as a waitress at a roadside café called “By the Road.” The salary was small, but the tips generously left by customers compensated for this.

Twelve-hour shifts were exhausting, but Marina did not despair. She liked her independent life. Her room in a shared apartment was spacious and bright, and the neighbors, an elderly couple, turned out to be friendly. She had enough money, although not much, and unexpectedly discovered a talent in herself. It turned out that she knew how to dress stylishly on a dime. By buying clothes from second-hands, she remade and altered them into fashionable items. In a summer meadow in the forest, a happy and laughing Marina sat on the grass with a crown of flowers, embraced by a handsome dark-haired guy wearing a similar crown. Many years have passed, but Marina’s heart still skips a beat at the sight of this photo.

She had been working at the café for about a year when she met Maxim. That summer morning, the café was unexpectedly crowded. Marina rushed around the room with a tray, serving impatient customers, and suddenly tripped, spilling tomato juice on a guy by the window. A bright red stain spread across his light shirt. Marina was lost for words, realizing that the shirt was expensive. Before she could recover, Stas, the café administrator, rushed to the table and began fussing, threatening her with dismissal.

“Why worry so much?” the guy smiled, handing Marina the keys to his car. “Don’t worry, I’m going to my parents’ country house. There’s a clean shirt in the car. Could you bring the backpack from the back seat?”

“I’ll bring it, Maxim Nikolaevich,” Stas offered helpfully, snatching the keys. “Otherwise, this chicken might break something in your car too.”

Left alone with the client, Marina finally managed to apologize: “Please forgive me, this is the first time this has happened. I swear, I will compensate you for the damage.”

Maxim replied. “It’s nothing serious.”

Maxim extended his hand. She responded with a handshake and then dared to look at him for the first time.

Stas brought him the backpack and escorted him in order to a back room to change. When he passed by Marina, Stas remarked sarcastically:

“What are you waiting for? Has your shift ended?”

While she was just taking payment from a loving couple, she heard a cheerful voice behind her: “Marina, could you spare me a minute of your attention?”

Maxim, in a fresh blue shirt, was sitting at the same table. “Will you take my order?”

“Of course.”

Serving the attractive visitor, the girl felt awkward. Stas personally escorted the guy to the door, then winked at Marina, “Don’t be upset, I purposely snapped at you, otherwise he might have made you pay for the shirt. It costs more than your salary.”

“How do you know this guy?”

“That’s Max Skvortsov, the mayor’s son. Everyone in town knows him.”

By that evening, Marina was so exhausted from the day’s hustle that she had forgotten about the morning incident. She only desired to get home and collapse into bed.

It was already dark outside. Suddenly, a light foreign car pulled up to the café. On closer inspection, Marina recognized the car. What was the mayor’s son doing here?

Maxim jumped out of the car and headed straight for Marina. He approached and handed her the flowers: “Have you finished work? Sorry, I didn’t know what kind you like, so I chose white roses. But I promise that from now on, I’ll only give you your favorites.”

Marina was completely bewildered.

“I’m actually courting you. Besides, the evening is so lovely, maybe we could go somewhere?”, Max said, laughing.

Everything that was happening seemed like a magical dream. Marina realized that she was ready to go anywhere with him. Yet she quickly came back to reality. She remembered she was dressed in old jeans and a simple t-shirt.

“Thank you, but I’m tired, I can’t today”, Marina said regretfully.

“Then tomorrow?” Max was persistent.

The next day they met, never to part again. It was love at first sight. Maxim was an economics student. He had successfully passed his summer exams, and they started seeing each other every day.

Max introduced Marina to his university friends. Together, they often went swimming and barbecued in the wilderness. It was the brightest, most carefree, and unforgettable time of Marina’s life. She never experienced such happiness again.

Marina and Maxim had already started planning their wedding, but all their dreams about the future collapsed. Maxim’s cousin saw him on the street with some ragamuffin and reported it to daddy-the-mayor. Marina’s life turned into a nightmare.

The Skvortsov family disapproved of their relationship. It was understandable. The only son and a girl from an orphanage. Maxim’s mother called hundreds of times a day, demanding that Marina leave him. Maxim’s cousin came to the cafe and caused a terrible scandal.

Then, neighbors also reported that some people had been asking about Marina for an hour.

“Recently one lady”, confirmed Yakov Ivanovich, a neighbor in the apartment, “offered us good money if we confirmed that you were a drug addict and a prostitute. I threw her out.”

Marina told nothing to her fiancé. She knew that his opportunity for an overseas student exchange was being decided at that moment. Apparently, he was also under pressure, because a worry settled in his eyes. Sometimes he would look tensely at his beloved’s face, but, seeing her gentle smile, he would sigh with relief.

Two weeks before Maxim’s departure, Marina received a phone call.

“This is Nikolai Borisovich, Maxim’s father. You must break up with my son before he leaves. Tell him you have another man. If you ignore my words, you will bitterly regret it.”

The mayor hung up. Marina was ready to give her life for Maxim, how could she possibly give up the man she loved so deeply?

When her beloved flew to London, events began to unfold around Marina that she still remembers as a bad dream. Stas, bribed by the city’s mayor, suddenly accused the waitress of a major shortage, and the girl was arrested.

Marina was in sh0ck by her boss’s vile act. As the case quickly went to court, she had no doubt that the truth would soon come out and these horrible charges would be dismissed.

The trial was like a farce. The lawyer provided by the state barely stayed awake during the proceedings. In contrast, the prosecutor tried his hardest. Every day, Marina hoped that Maxim would appear and save her, but a friend informed her that, according to rumors, the boy was planning to continue his studies in England.

Marina was sentenced to three years. It was only in prison that she learned she was expecting a child.

Marina tried not to think about the time she spent in women’s prison—it was too painful. Overwhelmed by emotions, she quickly turned the page of the family album. The photo showed her dark-haired, gray-eyed little boy. Marina tenderly ran her finger over the image. Her son was so affectionate and clever. Only God knows what it cost her to raise him alone.

After serving a year and a half, Marina was released. Her child had not been taken away. Outside, a myriad of problems awaited her. No one wanted to hire a young woman with a small child, especially one with a criminal record.

Her neighbor Yakov Ivanovich helped get little Ilyushka into daycare, Marina was able to work tirelessly. She worked as a cleaner in a restaurant, cleaned offices in the evenings, worked at a car wash on weekends, and sewed pillowcases and duvet covers at night.

She didn’t look back at the past—why suffer unnecessarily? Once she accidentally met a former friend who told her that the roadside café owner, Stas, had gone bankrupt, Mayor Skvortsov had moved to Moscow with his family after receiving a promotion, and his son had married a beauty from the capital a year ago.

Marina wiped away her tears and went to clean floors at the restaurant. She needed to raise her son.

She always tried to please him with tasty food, expensive toys, fashionable clothes. She was ready to do anything to fulfill all his wishes, as much as possible. If Ilya needed a new gadget, he calmly talked to his mother about it, knowing she would find the necessary amount, or at worst, take on extra work.

Certainly, in that Ilya had grown into such an insensitive egoist, she was to blame too. She never complained to him about being tired, never took sick leave, always gave him the tastiest pieces at dinner. No wonder her son never once considered the price his mother paid for the money. And now he was ashamed of her and didn’t want her, a cleaner, to attend his wedding.

«I understand,» Marina sighed bitterly, then turned to Ilya’s portrait on the wall. «Son, I’ve indulged you for 25 years, but this time I’ll do as I see fit. Forgive me.»

She got out of bed and pulled out a box from the nightstand, where she traditionally kept her savings. Plus, her monthly salary was on the card—enough for an outfit, hairstyle, and a visit to the beautician.

Marina’s appearance at the registry office caused a real stir.

She always looked younger than her years, but after visiting the beauty salon, she seemed to have shed a decade. The guests, especially the men, sneakily glanced at the blonde woman in an exquisite blue dress. During the ceremony, the mother, wiping away tears, admired her serious, slightly bewildered son and his charming bride. It was good that she had come here. After the ceremony, all the guests congratulated the newlyweds. Ilya stealthily made his way through the crowd to his mother and whispered:

«So my request means nothing to you? I hope you’re not going to the restaurant?»

«I won’t,» Marina nodded. «I’ve already seen everything I wanted.»

«Hello!» a flushed Vika rushed up to them. «Marina Anatolyevna, you look stunning! The parents invite you to go to the restaurant with them.»

«Thank you, but it’s time for me to leave.»

«What do you mean, time?» Vika was indignant. «Ilya, what’s happening?»

«Really, Mom, where are you rushing to? It’s your only son’s wedding,» Ilya invited his mother to the restaurant with a forced smile.

When it was time for parents to congratulate the young couple, Marina took the microphone:

«Children, be happy, love each other for a lifetime…»

As she descended from the small stage, the woman nearly bumped into a tall man in an expensive suit.

«It can’t be,» said Maxim, blocking her path. «Marishka, is it really you? What are you doing here?»

«Maxim?» Marina couldn’t believe her eyes.

«The bride’s father is my business partner, he invited me to the wedding. What a handsome son you have.» Maxim, nervously, took Marina’s hand. «Maybe we could step aside, talk by the window? Are you here alone, without a husband? I’ve been divorced for 10 years now, and I don’t have any children.»

They talked for an hour. Maxim told how his father, having flown to him abroad, informed him that Marina had met another guy and moved to Moscow with him. Shocked, Max didn’t believe his father but, fearing to humiliate his beloved with suspicions, decided to first find out the truth from his best friend. The friend went to the roadside café but didn’t find the girl there. The owner and waitresses unanimously confirmed the information received from the father.

«I nearly went mad with grief then, stayed in England for another six months, then returned to Moscow. My dad got promoted, then I got married. Was I happy all these years? Not a minute. Only in my youth with you. But how have you been living all this time?»

«Let’s not talk about sad things,» Marina suggested. «It’s a wedding, after all. I’ll tell you everything later, but now invite me to dance.»

Guests couldn’t take their eyes off the beautiful couple. Ilya watched his mother and didn’t recognize her. He suddenly thought that his mom was a very attractive woman who had given up her personal life for him. For the first time in his life, Ilya felt truly ashamed. Then he noticed that his mother, arm-in-arm with some wealthy man, was heading towards the exit, and caught up with her on the porch.

«Mom, where are you going?»

«I’m leaving. That’s what you wanted,» the mother reminded.

«Mom, I’m sorry, but where are you going with this man?»

«I’m ready to go with him to the ends of the earth,» Marina sincerely confessed. «By the way, meet your father, Maxim.»

Ilya looked bewildered at Marina. She paused and added with a smile:

«Yes, it looks like we have a very long conversation ahead. But not today. Today is a wedding!»

My Late Mom Became Rich Overnight Ten Years Ago, but along with Her Inheritance, I Received a Letter Saying, ‘You’re a Thief’ — Story of the Day

As Laura mourned her mother, each keepsake told a story of resilience and love—but a mysterious letter, accusing her mom of theft, shattered the solace of her grief. What secrets lay hidden in her family’s fortune, and how far would Laura go to uncover the truth?

I sat cross-legged on the carpet of my mom’s room, surrounded by pieces of her life.

Her favorite sweater lay in my lap, and I held it close, inhaling the faint lavender scent that still clung to it.

The familiar smell brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes.

Nearby, her infamous sweatpants, patched and re-patched a hundred times, lay folded.

They looked more like a work of art than an article of clothing. I let out a soft laugh through my tears, shaking my head.

Neil appeared in the doorway, his footsteps careful, as though he didn’t want to disturb my fragile state.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Laura, love,” he said softly, crouching beside me. His hand rested gently on my shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll get through it together.”

I nodded, swiping at my damp cheeks with my sleeve.

“It’s just… it feels like every little thing brings her back. Even these sweatpants.” I gestured toward the well-worn fabric.

“She could’ve bought a hundred new pairs, but she refused to give these up.”

Neil picked them up, turning them over in his hands, the patches catching his attention.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Honestly, these belong in some kind of hall of fame for persistence. Your mom had money. Why would she keep these?”

A faint smile touched my lips.

“Because we weren’t always rich. My childhood was… tough. Mom worked nonstop—cleaner, caregiver, you name it. She made sacrifices just so I could have the basics. Then, out of nowhere, this huge inheritance changed everything.”

Neil’s eyebrows lifted. “She never told you where it came from?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I shook my head.

“No. I asked her so many times, but she’d just get quiet or brush it off. After the money came, we didn’t have to struggle anymore, but Mom stayed the same. She taught me to respect every penny. She knew what it felt like to have nothing.”

Neil wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into a comforting side hug.

“You’re going to make her proud, Laura. You’ve got her strength. You’ll honor her in everything you do.”

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I leaned into him, letting his warmth steady me. “I hope so, Neil. I really hope so.”

Neil was in the basement sorting through dusty boxes when the sharp chime of the doorbell rang out.

Wiping my hands on my jeans, I opened the door to find a mail carrier standing there with a single envelope in his hand.

It was addressed to my mom, in handwriting that was jagged and bold.

“She passed away,” I said softly, my voice catching.

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The mail carrier’s face softened. “Sorry for your loss,” he replied before walking away.

I closed the door, staring at the envelope in my hand. Something about it felt… strange. The paper was slightly crumpled, the ink dark and hurried.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I slid a finger under the flap, tearing it open.

My breath hitched as I read the words inside, written in sharp, black ink:

“You’re a thief. Return what you stole if you have any conscience left.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“What the hell?” I whispered, my heart pounding. The letter trembled in my hands as a chill ran through me. My mom—a thief? No, that wasn’t possible.

“Laura?” Neil’s voice called out as he ascended the basement stairs. He stepped into the room, dust on his shirt and a curious look on his face.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Without a word, I handed him the letter, my hands still shaking. He read it, his brows furrowing in confusion.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“A thief?” Neil said slowly, looking up at me. “Your mom?”

“No,” I said firmly, shaking my head.

“She wasn’t a thief, Neil. She was kind, honest, and hardworking. This… this has to be some kind of mistake.”

Neil didn’t respond right away. He studied the letter again, his face thoughtful.

“Laura,” he began carefully, “you told me your mom never wanted to talk about where the money came from. What if—what if there’s some truth to this?”

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I glared at him, crossing my arms defensively. “Are you seriously suggesting my mom stole that inheritance?”

Neil held up his hands in surrender.

“I’m not accusing her, okay? But this letter—look, it mentions an address. Maybe we should go and figure out what this is all about.”

I hesitated, glancing back at the letter. As much as I hated the idea, Neil had a point. “Fine,” I said quietly. “But only because I need to prove this letter wrong.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

The house loomed large as we approached, its towering structure casting shadows over the untamed garden. Though once magnificent, the cracked facade and overgrown hedges hinted at years of neglect.

The door creaked open to reveal a woman who looked as though she had stepped out of a fashion magazine.

Her hair was glossy, her clothes perfectly tailored, and her jewelry glittered in the fading sunlight.

The sharp contrast between her polished appearance and the house’s state of decay was unsettling.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone crisp and unwelcoming.

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“Irene?” I ventured, my voice wavering. She nodded, her expression unreadable. “I’m Laura,” I continued hesitantly.

“My mother… she’s the one you accused in your letter.”

Irene’s eyes narrowed as she studied me. For a moment, I thought she might shut the door in our faces, but then she stepped aside, waving us in with a flick of her manicured hand.

“Come in,” she said curtly.

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The study she led us to was a glimpse into another time. Leather chairs, an antique desk, and shelves lined with dusty, leather-bound books exuded a quiet elegance.

Irene sat down, crossing her legs with precision, and gestured for us to do the same.

“My father, Charles, was a wealthy man,” she began, her voice steady but cold.

“In his later years, he became frail and forgetful. That’s when your mother came into our lives. She was hired as his caregiver, and at first, we thought she was wonderful—kind, patient, hardworking. But we were wrong.”

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My stomach tightened. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“She manipulated him,” Irene said bluntly.

“In his final months, when his mind was failing, she made him believe she was his daughter. She had him rewrite his will, cutting our family out of half his fortune.”

“That’s impossible!” I exclaimed, my hands trembling. “My mother wouldn’t—she couldn’t!”

Irene’s face remained impassive.

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“When he passed, she vanished with the money. And now, ten years later, we’re left to pick up the pieces. We’ve sold nearly everything to stay afloat.”

Neil squeezed my shoulder. “Laura,” he said gently, “this sounds serious. Maybe we should—”

“No!” I interrupted, tears streaming down my face. “She wouldn’t do that! My mother was the most honest person I’ve ever known.”

But even as I defended her, doubts crept into my mind. Images from my childhood flickered: my mother’s nervous smiles when I asked about the inheritance, her refusal to explain its origins.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

My thoughts spun faster, and then something else clicked—Neil.

The way he had confidently navigated the sprawling house, the way he’d casually called a cleaner by her name without an introduction.

When Irene excused herself to take a phone call, I turned to Neil, narrowing my eyes. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

Neil stiffened, avoiding my gaze. “You’re imagining things,” he said, his voice a little too calm.

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“It’s been a rough week, Laura. Don’t let your mind play tricks on you.”

But I couldn’t shake the feeling. Something wasn’t right. “Fine,” I said finally, my voice cracking.

“If my mother really did this… I’ll return the money. I don’t want to live with stolen money. I need to do what’s right.”

Neil nodded, but his reaction felt… off. As Irene returned to the room, I steeled myself for what lay ahead, determined to uncover the truth—whatever it might be.

Back at my mom’s house the air felt eerily quiet as I dug through her safe, determined to find answers.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Papers were stacked haphazardly, some yellowed with age, others crisp and untouched.

As I rifled through them, my fingers brushed against a small bundle of letters tied together with a faded ribbon.

Most of them were unopened, but one stood out—its envelope worn, its seal broken.

I pulled it out and unfolded the brittle paper, my heart pounding as I read the words scrawled in shaky handwriting:

“Dear Eleanor, I regret every day abandoning you as a child. Please let me make it up to you. I’ve written my will and included you, as you deserve. Please find a place in your heart to forgive me.

Charles”

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The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. My mother hadn’t stolen anything.

Charles, her employer, wasn’t just a kind old man—he was her father, my grandfather.

The inheritance was hers by right, a piece of justice for the years of pain he’d caused her.

A sharp knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts. Clutching the letter, I hurried to the living room.

Standing in the doorway was Irene, dressed in a sleek designer suit, her confidence practically radiating. Neil stood close to her, whispering something that made her smile.

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“What’s going on here?” I demanded, my voice cutting through the tense silence.

Neil spun around, his face pale. “Laura! You’re just in time,” he said, his tone overly cheerful. “Let’s get these documents signed.”

Irene stepped forward, her smile still plastered on. “Yes, let’s not drag this out.”

Neil laid the papers on the table and slid them toward me, but something inside me snapped.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the papers and tore them in half. “I know the truth,” I said, holding up the letter.

Irene’s smile faltered. “What truth?” she asked, her voice icy.

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“Charles was my grandfather,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside me.

“He gave my mother the money because he owed her. She didn’t steal anything.”

Neil’s face twisted in panic. “Laura, don’t be ridiculous—”

“Stop lying!” I shouted. “I saw you whispering to Irene. You’ve been working together, haven’t you?”

Irene turned on Neil, her composure slipping. “You said she’d sign! You promised! God, I can’t believe I wasted my time with you.”

Neil stammered, but I cut him off. “Get out. Both of you.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Neil dropped to his knees, pleading. “Laura, please. I made a mistake, but I love you.”

“Love doesn’t look like betrayal,” I said coldly, stepping back. “Goodbye, Neil.”

As they left, I held the letter close to my chest. My mother’s story wasn’t perfect, but it was hers, and it was honest. I wouldn’t let anyone tarnish her memory.

She had fought for what was right, and now, so would I.

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