A demanding ultimatum from the groom.
‘Either you hand over the business and the dacha to my mum, or there will be no wedding!’ – declared the groom as if it was a business deal.
Veranna poured herself some coffee and went to the window. Dawn was just beginning and her mind was already racing with the day’s duties. Meeting with a supplier, checking accounting reports, calling a client from Tver in the afternoon. Her schedule was tight, but she liked the sense of order.
The small print shop Veranne had inherited from her father five years ago required constant attention. Her father, Pollan Dimitt, had always said that a business was like a child: neglect it for a moment and it could either cause trouble or make you sick. He was old-school – demanding, principled and loyal.
‘Veranne, remember the main thing,’ Pollan repeated to Dimitt, “three things will make you successful: keep your word, do not trust manipulators and respect labour – your own and others’.
Even their dacha in the Moscow suburbs was perceived as a duty, not a place of rest. It had its own order, its own rules. Veranna recalled how her father planned every spring what to plant and emphasised the importance of looking after the garden.
When Pollan Dimitt died suddenly of a heart attack, both the business and the cottage passed to Veranne. Many doubted that the young woman could cope, but in five years the printing company not only stayed afloat, but also began to flourish, and the cottage became a secluded place where Veranne energised.
Unexpected attitude of the groom
The phone rang. It was Amarcus.
‘Good morning, up already, workaholic?’ – came his cheerful voice.
‘Long time,’ Veranna smiled into the receiver. ‘I’m finishing my coffee.’
“What time will you be done today? Maybe we can meet up after work?”
Veranna glanced at her planner. ‘I’ll be free around six, but then I have to stop by the restaurant to finalise the wedding menu.’
‘Oh this wedding,’ Amarcus sighed with a note of weariness in his voice. ‘Sometimes I think it would be easier to just sign the papers and fly off to some island.’
‘Come on, the wedding is only a fortnight away,’ Verana laughed. “I’ve pretty much organised everything already. You don’t need to worry.”
“Exactly! You’ve taken care of everything, my practical girl.”
A few months before, Veranne had met Amarcus at the gym, where they had hit it off immediately. He was spontaneous, witty and charming – completely unlike the serious men she had met before. He seemed perfect.
Six months after they started dating, Amarcus proposed to her in a fine restaurant, and Verana accepted, certain that Amarcus was the right man for her.
Veranne’s first meeting with Amarcus’s mother, Irene Clark, had been revealing. Irene, a slender, impeccably groomed woman in her fifties, scrutinised Veranne. Over lunch, she remarked carelessly, “The most important thing in a family is to keep your man. Amarchik has a temper, but if you defer to him in small things, you will live in harmony.”
Verana nodded, though the thought seemed foreign to her. She had always been taught to be independent. Still, she remained silent, not wanting to upset anyone.
The wedding ultimatum
Two days before the wedding, Amarcus invited Veranna to a café for a ‘family council’. When she arrived, she found not only Amarcus waiting, but also his mother Irina.
‘Verochka, dear,’ Irene began, “Amarcus and I have been talking and we want to propose an idea… for the good of the family.
Veranna was overcome with a sense of unease. She felt that something was wrong.
‘We think,’ Amarcus joined in, “that we should reassure ourselves. You know, in case something goes wrong.”
‘What are you talking about?’ asked Verana, confused.
‘And we think,’ Irene continued, ‘that you should hand over your business and the summer house to me, or the wedding is cancelled!’
Verana’s stomach twisted. ‘What…?’
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Irene said condescendingly, putting a hand on Verana’s shoulder. “It’s just a formality, for peace of mind. When you have children, I’ll sign it all back.”
Verana stared at them, speechless. Memories of Irene asking her about customers and business turnover flashed through her mind.
‘Why?’ asked Verana finally, looking directly at Amarcus. ‘Don’t we love each other?’
‘Of course we do,’ Amarcus answered quickly. “But it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just… insurance. You never know.”
Irene added: ‘A woman should be enjoying life, not worrying about papers.’
Veranna couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She had trusted Amarcus, and now he and his mother were demanding everything she had earned.
‘Look,’ Amarcus said, taking her hand. “It’s just a formality. Mum’s right – what does it matter whose name the assets are in?”
‘Since when do you care about my affairs?’ – Verana asked quietly. asked Verana quietly. asked Verana quietly.
Amarcus was starting to get annoyed. “I respect your space. But this is different – we’re becoming a family.”
‘And that’s why you want me to sign everything over to your mother?’
‘Don’t be dramatic!’ Amarcus raised his voice. “Just sign the papers. It’s for the greater good!”
Verana remembered her father’s warning about manipulators, ‘They always talk about the common good when they want something for themselves.’
‘I have to go,’ Verana said, picking up her bag.
‘Wait, wait!’ Amarcus grabbed her arm. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ve heard enough,’ she replied. ‘I need to think.’
‘There’s nothing to think about,’ Irene said, her voice stern. “The papers are ready. Just sign.”
Verana felt a cold clarity sweep over her. She stared at them, her confidence shattered. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said and walked out.
Non-wedding
At home, Veranna pulled out her wedding dress that she had dreamed of for so long. Then she opened the velvet box containing the sapphire ring.
‘What to do now?’ – she thought, sitting on the edge of the bed. By morning, she knew the answer: cancel the wedding.
Without calling Amarcus, she went to the registry office and cancelled the ceremony. The clerk looked at her sympathetically, but asked no questions. Verana called all the guests, cancelled the restaurant, the decorations and the cake.
Her phone rang non-stop – Amarcus. She didn’t pick up. Messages poured in: ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Are you crazy?’ ‘Call me!’
She replied briefly, “No wedding. Thank you for showing your hand before and not after.”
Amarcus reacted quickly, ‘You ruined my life!’ ‘You care more about your business than your family!’ ‘Selfish!’
Veranne dialled his number. An hour later the calls started coming in from unknown numbers – Irene Clark.
‘Verochka, what’s wrong?’ You could hear the barely concealed irritation in Irene’s voice. “Amarcus said you cancelled the wedding. Is this a misunderstanding?”
‘No, not a misunderstanding,’ Verana replied firmly. ‘I will not marry a man who gives me ultimatums about handing over my property.’
‘You’re making it up!’ snapped Irene. “Amarcus wanted to protect his family and you didn’t even give him a chance to explain! Stupid girl!”
Veranna hung up the phone. The calls stopped and she felt relieved.
Her friends supported her. When the stupor passed, Veranne told them the whole story. ‘You did the right thing,’ Liza said. ‘Imagine what would have happened afterwards.’
Veranne’s mum, Alla Sergeyevna, was firmly on her side. ‘Your father would be proud of you,’ she said, hugging Veranna. ‘He always believed that you would make the right choice, even if it was difficult.’
Life without Amarkus
Two weeks after the non-wedding, Verana met with her long-time business partner, Mikhail Andreevich. Over a cup of coffee, they talked about recruitment.
‘A young man came in to see us,’ Mikhail Andreevich said. “Amankus – I can’t remember the surname. Said he had experience in counselling and knew how to work with clients.”
Veranna froze mid-sip. ‘He didn’t mention me, did he?’
‘Well,’ Mikhail hesitated, “not at first. But then, as we were just about to end the conversation, he suddenly mentioned his fiancée, an “up-and-coming entrepreneur”, and said that if she would turn her business over to him, it would be very profitable for us.”
Veranna smiled grimly. ‘That sounds familiar.’
‘Yeah,’ Mikhail grinned. ‘Apparently it’s not such a rare trick for him.’
Verana didn’t bother telling him that Amankus was her ex-fiancé. She simply thanked Mikhail. It was all clear now.
Amankus had never loved her – he only wanted business.
She took up her work with renewed vigour: she modernised her equipment, expanded her staff and signed new contracts. On weekends, she enjoyed spending time at the cottage, drinking cocoa, reading and reflecting on the lessons her father had taught her.
Six months later, she received a message from Amarcus: “Veranne, I’m sorry. I made a terrible mistake. Let’s talk.”
Veranne stared at him, remembering his failed venture. She dialled his number again and smiled.
‘If anyone ever says to me again, “Either you hand over the business and the dacha or there will be no wedding”, I’ll just smile,’ she thought. “Indeed, there will be no wedding. Thank you for your honesty.”
