Wife and Father-in-Law Karina only pretended she wanted to meet Vadim’s parents. What did she need them for, anyway? She wasn’t planning to live with them, and as for his father—supposedly wealthy—he’d only bring problems and suspicion. But if you’re going to play the role of fiancée, you have to see it through. Dressed simply but sweetly, Karina wanted to come across as a down-to-earth girl. Meeting the in-laws is always tricky, but meeting clever in-laws? That’s a real test of character. Vadim tried to reassure her: “Don’t worry, Karina. My dad may seem grim, but he’s reasonable, really. They won’t say anything awful. You’ll win them over. Dad’s a bit odd, but mum is the life and soul of the party,” he insisted outside his family home. Karina just smiled, tossing her hair nonchalantly. A brooding father and a sociable mum, she thought—what a pair. She’d seen wealthier homes, so the house didn’t impress her. They were welcomed at the door. Karina wasn’t particularly nervous. Why should she be? People are people. Nina, Vadim’s mother, was a housewife who loved travel—a perfectly average woman. His father, Val, wasn’t exactly cheery, but at least he was quiet. Yet, his name rang a bell… And then she saw him—and stopped cold, not even stepping inside. This was the end. She didn’t know her future mother-in-law, but her father-in-law she recognised instantly. They’d met three years ago, not often, but with mutual satisfaction—in bars, hotels, restaurants. Of course, Val’s wife and son knew nothing about that. Game over. Val recognised her too. A flicker in his eyes—surprise, dismay, or maybe something darker—but he said nothing. Blissful, oblivious Vadim introduced her. “Mum, Dad—this is Karina, my fiancée. I’d have brought her sooner, but she’s so shy.” Oh, the irony. Val offered his hand; the handshake was firm, almost hard. “Nice to meet you, Karina,” he said, something unspoken in his voice. Anger, maybe warning—Karina couldn’t quite tell. She braced herself for Val to blurt out the truth. “Lovely to meet you, Val,” Karina replied, matching his poker face, adrenaline coursing through her. What would he do…? But nothing happened. Val simply pulled out a chair for her at dinner. Waiting to shame her—surely… But again, nothing. Then Karina realised—he won’t say a word. Exposing her would mean exposing himself too. With that, the atmosphere relaxed. Nina reminisced about Vadim’s childhood; Val asked Karina about her work—knowingly ironic, since he knew plenty. Sometimes he joked, and to her surprise, Karina laughed—though under his humour lurked private jabs only they understood. Like when he said, “You remind me of an old… colleague of mine. Very clever, knew how to read people. All kinds of people.” Karina matched his wit: “We all have different talents, Val.” Vadim, lost in love, didn’t see the subtext, gazing dreamily at Karina. He really loved her. That, perhaps, was the bitterest part—for him. Later, over talk of travel, Val eyed Karina thoughtfully: “I prefer secluded places—quiet, for reflection. Especially with a good book. How about you, Karina?” A trap. “I prefer lively company,” she answered coolly, “Though sometimes, extra ears can be dangerous.” Nina seemed to notice something, her brow creasing, but the thought passed. Val knew Karina didn’t crave solitude. And he knew why. When evening ended, Val hugged Vadim. “Look after her, son. She’s… special.” It was compliment and mockery in one—nobody but Karina caught the double meaning. Karina felt the air go cold. “Special.” Of all words. *** That night, while the house slept, Karina lay awake, turning their encounter over in her mind. The future looked… murky. Val probably wasn’t sleeping either. She slipped from bed, pulled on a hoodie, and tiptoed downstairs. Deliberately, she made just enough noise to be heard by the wakeful and went out to the veranda, sure Val would find her. He didn’t disappoint. “Can’t sleep?” he asked from behind. “Wide awake,” Karina answered, sensing his familiar aftershave. He looked her over intently. “What do you want from my son, Karina?” Gone was the old, easy edge. “I know what you’re capable of. I know how many men like me have been in your life. And I know you’ve always been after money—never made much secret of it. So, why Vadim?” Since he was dredging up the past, Karina wasn’t about to play nice. She grinned, “I love him, Val—why shouldn’t I?” He snorted derisively. “Love? You? Don’t make me laugh. I know exactly who you are. And I’ll tell Vadim everything. What you’ve been. Who you really are. Think he’ll still marry you then?” Karina, now mere inches away, studied him—almost amused. “Go ahead, Val,” she said slowly, deliberately. “But then your wife will learn our little secret too.” “That’s—” “It’s not blackmail, it’s mutual assured destruction. If you tell everyone how we really met, I add my own version to yours. Neither of us comes out clean.” “It’s not the same—” “Really? Will you say that to your wife’s face?” Val went still. His bluff had failed—he was cornered. They were partners in crime now. “What are you going to tell her?” “Not just her. Everyone. Vadim too. What a model family man you are. Where those late nights really came from. I’ll have nothing to lose.” Some choice—shield his son from her, or risk his whole marriage. “You wouldn’t dare.” “I wouldn’t?” Karina laughed. “You’re brave enough, but I’m not? I’ll keep quiet if you do. But betray me, and your marriage is over. Nina values loyalty, remember?” He had once drunkly confessed his philandering to Karina, gushing guilt over his “good, faithful Nina.” She’d never forgive him. He knew Karina wasn’t bluffing. “All right,” he muttered. “I won’t say a thing. And you—keep quiet. Let’s forget the past.” Karina smiled. He stood to lose far more than she did. “As you wish, Val.” The next morning, they left Vadim’s parents’ house. Under Val’s withering gaze, Karina said goodbye to Nina, who was already calling her “daughter.” A nerve twitched in Val’s cheek—he couldn’t warn his son without risking everything. Later, during a fortnight-long holiday with the family, Val dodged Karina at every turn—until, alone in the house, malicious curiosity got the better of him. Rummaging through Karina’s bag, he came across a pregnancy test—positive. “I thought the worst was my son marrying… But this—this is disaster,” he muttered, stuffing it back as Karina walked in. “Never a good look, snooping in someone’s bag,” she scolded, but didn’t seem upset. Val was blunt: “Is it Vadim’s?” Karina took the bag back, met his gaze. “Looks like you ruined the surprise, Val.” Now Val was trapped. She’d never let his son go—and if he exposed her, he exposed himself. Best to say nothing. But what torture, to watch his son walk into a trap. *** Nine months passed, then half a year more. Vadim and Karina raised baby Alice. Val did his best to avoid visiting, refusing to claim the granddaughter as family. Karina scared him—her calm with Vadim, her dark past. And then, once more, Nina planned a visit. “Coming with me, Val?” “No, headache,” he hedged. “Again? This is getting suspicious.” “Just tired, go on ahead.” As always, Val pretended he had migraines or a cold, popping a few pills for show. He couldn’t stand being near Karina, but couldn’t confess, either. The evening dragged. He lazed, read books, but grew anxious as Nina failed to return or answer calls. Just after 11pm, he rang Vadim. “Is everything all right? Has Nina left yet? She’s not home yet.” “Dad, you’re the last person I want to talk to right now,” Vadim snapped, and hung up. Val was just about to drive over when Karina’s car pulled up. Seeing her, he nearly fainted. “What do you want? What’s happened?” he demanded. Karina moved with chilling composure, poured herself wine, settled in. “Crisis,” she announced. “What crisis?” “Ours. Vadim found old photos of us from an Oasis bar party, posted to the café’s website. He was looking at their site for our anniversary, found us there—in all our glory. Photographer caught everything. Now Vadim’s furious. Your Nina wants a divorce. And as for me—I’ll probably leave your son too, just as you always dreamed.” Val stared as memories flooded back. That party, those photos he’d begged not to be taken… Fate had finally caught up. He sat beside her, defeated. “Why come to me?” “I needed a break from the chaos—Alice is with her nanny. Want some wine?” She offered him his own vintage. They sat quietly on the porch, united only by the late summer hum of insects. “This is all your fault,” Val said. Karina nodded into her glass. “Probably.” “You’re impossible.” “If you say so.” “You don’t even pity Vadim.” “I do. But I pity myself more.” “You love only yourself.” “Never denied it.” He suddenly reached out, lifting her chin to face him. “You know I never loved you,” he whispered. “I believe you.” *** In the morning, Nina returned—hoping, perhaps, for reconciliation, even at the cost of her own sanity. She found Karina and Val together—still asleep. “Who’s there?” Karina stirred. “Just me,” Nina replied, watching her world fall apart. Karina just smiled calmly. Val, waking later, didn’t even go after his wife.

Wife and Father

Claire never truly wanted to meet Olivers parents. Why should she? It wasnt them shed be living with, and as for his father, James, who was supposed to be rather well-off, all she expected from him was trouble and suspicion.

But, she told herself, if she was set on marrying Oliver, she had to play the part to the end.

Claire dressed nicely, though simply, aiming to look like a sweet, down-to-earth girl.

Meeting a fiancés parents is always a treacherous thing, and meeting clever parents is a true test of character.

Oliver figured she needed reassurance.

Dont worry, Claire, honestly. Dad may seem a bit gloomy, but hes reasonable. They wont say anything dreadful. Im sure theyll like you. Mums a proper people person, he said encouragingly as they stood at the gate.

Claire just smiled, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Gloomy father, cheerful mother. What a combination. She silently scoffed.

The house didnt impress her. Shed been in far grander homes.

They were greeted straight away.

Claire didnt feel nervous. Why should she? People are just people. As shed heard from Oliver, his mother, Anne Smith, had been a housewife for years, occasionally off on tours with friends, nothing of note there. His father, James Smith, wasnt known for his cheerfulness, but was quiet, composed. The name rang oddly familiar

They were welcomed in

And Claire froze, lingering outside. This was bad. She didnt recognise Anne, but James she knew instantly theyd met before, three years earlier. Not often, but always mutually beneficial. In bars, hotels, restaurants. Of course, neither Anne nor Oliver knew anything about this.

So here they were.

James recognised her, too. For a split second, there was a flicker in his eyes surprise, confusion, or perhaps something more calculating but he swiftly held his composure.

Unaware, Oliver introduced her: Mum, Dad, this is Claire, my fiancée. Id have brought her sooner, but shes painfully shy.

Oh, the irony.

James offered his hand.

His handshake was firm, perhaps too firm.

Pleased to meet you, Claire, he said. There was something slippery behind those words that Claire couldnt immediately decipher annoyance, a warning, maybe thinking several steps ahead.

She waited for James to expose her past, expecting the worst.

Instead, when the introductions ended, James simply pulled out a chair for her at the table, wearing an expression that might have passed for a smile.

Perhaps he planned to shame her later, she thought.

But dinner passed without incident.

Soon, realisation dawned James wouldnt say a word. If he did, hed also reveal himself to his wife.

Relieved, Claire relaxed. Anne regaled embarrassing stories from Olivers childhood, while James listened, now and again prodding Claire about her job which he knew much more about than he let on. His humour was dry, laced with hints only the two of them could understand.

For instance, at one point he said, You remind me so much of someone I used to work with, Claire. She was very clever. She had a knack for reading people. All kinds, really.

Claire shot back, People have all sorts of talents, Mr Smith.

Oliver, as besotted as ever, watched Claire with adoration, missing all subtext. He truly loved her. That, she mused, was both the most important thing and the saddest.

Later, as talk turned to travel, James glanced at Claire and said, Personally, I prefer quiet places somewhere peaceful to sit and think, especially with a good book. What about you, Claire? Any favourite spots?

He was trying to catch her out, she knew.

Oh, I like somewhere lively, with lots of people around. Its more fun although sometimes too many ears can be a hazard.

For a moment, Anne seemed to notice a strange shadow cross the conversation, but quickly shook it off.

James knew she wasnt seeking peace and quiet. And he knew why.

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Claire lay awake, mulling over the encounter and what lay ahead. The prospects werent bright. She could guess James was just as restless he, shaken by the unexpected reunion; she, anticipating the impending talk.

She slipped out of bed, threw on a sweatshirt over her pyjamas, and padded down the stairs. Deliberately, she made enough noise for any other insomniac to notice, then wandered onto the patio. She wasnt waiting long.

Cant sleep? Jamess voice came from behind her.

Not really, Claire replied.

A gentle breeze carried the familiar scent of his aftershave.

He watched her closely.

What do you want from my son, Claire? Dont pretend, I know what youre like. I know how many men like me have come and gone in your life. I know you were always after the cash. You never made any secret of your price. So, what is it you want from Oliver?

If he wouldnt gloss over the past, neither would Claire. She bared her teeth in a smile.

I love him, Mr Smith, she sang sweetly. Arent I allowed to?

He didnt buy it.

You? Love? Come off it. I know what sort of person you are, Claire. Ill tell Oliver everything what you did, who you really are. See if he marries you then.

Claire stepped close, until only a hands width separated them. She tilted her head to study him, as if she hadnt done so countless times before.

Go on, tell him, James. But if you do, your wife will know everything our little secret included.

Thats

Thats not blackmail. Its equity. If you tell people how we met, you wont be able to hide what we did together. Believe me, Ill finish your story for you.

Its not the same

Isnt it? Would you tell your wife the same thing?

James froze. His attempt at intimidation failed. He understood. They were tied together now.

What would you say to her?

Everything. To her, to Oliver. Ill tell everyone what a wonderful family man you are, and the overtime you spent at work. Ill have nothing left to lose. If you want to save Oliver from me, go ahead.

A difficult choice.

To stop the wedding would be to sign his own divorce. He would lose Anne and a chunk of his wealth. She certainly wouldnt leave empty-handed. And Oliver might never forgive him.

He knew Claire was not bluffing.

Fine, he said coldly. Ill say nothing. You keep quiet, too. Lets forget it ever happened.

Claire, satisfied, knew hed lose more than she ever could.

As you wish, Mr Smith.

The next morning, they left Olivers family home. James, glaring, watched as his wife embraced Claire, already calling her my dear. Jamess eyelid twitched.

He suffered in silence, unable to warn his son about his future wifes trickery, yet keenly afraid to implicate himself. Losing Anne wouldnt just cost him his marriage, but half his assets as well. And he doubted Oliver would ever forgive him.

On another occasion, Claire and Oliver stayed with Olivers parents for a fortnight.

A proper English summer holiday.

James did everything to avoid Claire, claiming endless work. But one day, alone at home, curiosity consumed him. He began searching through Claires handbag, hoping to find some compromising evidence.

He rummaged lipstick, organiser, notepad. Then, he spotted a starkly blue-and-white object. Pregnancy test. Two bold lines.

I thought the disaster was Oliver marrying… No, this is the disaster! He put the test back but didnt manage to close the bag.

Claire caught him red-handed.

Awfully impolite, snooping in other peoples things, she scolded sarcastically, though she didnt seem much bothered.

James didnt even try to justify himself.

Youre pregnant with Olivers child?

Claire approached, took her bag, and, with a glint, said, Youve spoilt the surprise, Mr Smith.

Now James was furious. Claire would be tied to Oliver forever. If he spoke up now, everything would collapse for all of them. He was more trapped than ever.

Nine months later and six more.

Oliver and Claire were raising a daughter, Alice.

James hardly visited. He avoided seeing them. He refused to feel any connection to his granddaughter; Claire still frightened him her indifference to Oliver and her shadowed past made him uneasy.

Yet again, a visit was planned.

Anne was packing up to visit Oliver and Claire.

Jim, are you coming?

No, my head hurts.

Again? Thats becoming a worry.

Just tired. You go on.

James pretended to have a migraine, or a cold, or claimed his legs werent working. He always found a reason not to go. He even took tablets for effect. He couldnt bear to see Claire, but he couldnt bear to confess, either.

The evening crawled by. He loitered at home, flicking through a book but not reading a word.

Then he realised Anne was late. Nearly eleven, and still not home. She wasnt answering her phone. He rang Oliver.

Oliver, is everything all right? Has your mum left yet? Shes not home.

Dad, youre the last person Id speak to right now.

And hung up.

James was bracing himself to drive over when a car pulled up outside. Claires car. The sight almost made him faint.

What brings you here? he demanded, shaking her. Whats happened?

Claire, composed as ever, poured herself a glass of wine and settled in.

A disaster happened.

What kind of disaster?

Ours. Oliver found photos of us on the website of some café, from that party four years back you remember the Oasis? He was looking for somewhere to book for our anniversary, stumbled on the gallery, and there we were, full view. The photographer, blast him. Oliver is beside himself. Annes talking divorce. And as you wanted, I think Ill be divorcing your son too.

James stared at her, thoughts racing. That cursed website, that night hed even asked not to have photos taken… Who wouldve thought things would collide like this?

He slumped down, defeated, beside her on the floor.

Why come here?

I needed a bit of a getaway, Claire smiled. Its chaos at home. Alice is with the nanny. Fancy some wine?

She poured him a glass of his own.

They sat on the patio, the nights quiet broken only by the hum of insects.

This is all because of you, James muttered.

Claire nodded, staring into her wine.

Yep.

Youre impossible.

So they say.

You dont even pity Oliver.

I do, but I pity myself more.

You only love yourself.

Cant argue with that.

Suddenly, James reached over, tilted her face toward him.

You know, I never loved you, he whispered.

I believe you, Claire replied.

***

The next morning, Anne returned, determined to save her marriage, even at the cost of her own peace.

She found Claire and James, still asleep, together.

Whos there? Claire mumbled, waking.

Its me, Anne answered, looking upon the ruins of her family.

Claire, seeing her, only smiled gently. James woke later, but never went after his wife.

***

Some secrets fester when hidden, and the truth will find its day no matter how artfully we try to bury the past. In protecting themselves, Claire and James destroyed those they claimed to care about. The lesson? Honesty, though painful, is always kinder than the quiet betrayals we commit to save our own skins. Eventually, our choices catch up to us, and happiness built on deceit is certain to crumble.