The husband left his ex-wife a mansion in a remote village as part of his inheritance. She went to see her, and there…
Vera looked at Alexei in bewilderment, unable to believe her ears.
“Alexei, don’t you understand you’re making a grave mistake?”
Alexei waved his hand in disdain, showing his impatience.
“Let’s cut the unnecessary drama. I’m just fed up with your constant dissatisfaction. The same thing every day. Milana is completely different. She’s like a breath of fresh air for me. And you… I’m probably too soft on you, giving you time to pack your things and look for a new place to live. You do realize you have no right to demand anything, right? You’ve never worked, so you have no right to my money.”
“Alexei, but you were the one who forbade me from working. You said that for the wife of a man of your status, having a job was considered an unnecessary luxury.”
“Yes, I said that when you were my wife.” But now Milana will take your place, so you’ll have the opportunity to earn a living on your own.
Vera remembered all these words as she stood in the cemetery before the new grave. Alexei’s happiness with his new partner was short-lived: only three years. She knew for sure that their last year of marriage was filled with suffering. Alexei’s illness also raised many questions.
She suspected Milana of adding something to his food or drink. She even started her own investigation and shared her suspicions with Vera, but she never completed it.
A month before his death, Alexei had come to see her to ask for forgiveness. He told her about his life; he looked ill, and her heart ached at his torment. Now, standing in the cemetery, Vera’s gaze fell on the elegant Milana, whose face was partially hidden by a dark veil and who was accompanied by a young companion.
She heard whispers among those present at the funeral, condemning Milana for her lack of emotion. Vera decided the investigation must continue. Even though Alexei had betrayed her, she still loved him. Yes, he had behaved like a scoundrel, but he didn’t deserve such a fate. Vera sighed and headed for the exit. At the door, someone called her. It was Milana.
“I hope you understand that you won’t receive anything from my husband’s inheritance,” she said icily.
Her face twisted with anger, even though Vera had given her no reason to suspect. They remained silent for a few seconds, like two opponents ready for a fight. Then Vera turned and left, hearing behind her:
“Don’t even think about trying to get anything!”
Alexei was receiving treatment at a clinic chosen by Milana, but Vera knew that was only part of the story. It turned out he was being secretly observed elsewhere, something almost no one knew. All the details were shrouded in mystery, and she seemed afraid it would be revealed.
“Hello?” Vera Nikolaevna, you need to be present for the reading of the will.
“A will?” Vera smiled bitterly. “Could it be that my ex left me something?”
“I’m sorry, Vera Nikolaevna, but it’s impossible to discuss the details over the phone. Can you come?”
“Of course,” she replied.
Vera smirked: she didn’t need her money, but she was curious to see Milana’s reaction to the reading of the will.
Milana was in excellent spirits, accompanied by the same young man who was smirking as he exchanged glances with Vera. As expected, all the property, including the real estate, had passed to Milana. However, at the end, the notary announced an additional asset: a house in a remote village 100 kilometers from the city.
Milana burst out laughing:
“To the old wife, old junk! But don’t worry, Vera, I won’t take that shack away from you. After all, you have nowhere else to live.” You’re just a tenant. Now you have yours. “Apartment!”
Vera said nothing, grabbed the documents, and left the office. “The beginning of a little adventure,” she thought as she examined the address.
She had the weekend off and decided to go there right away, wondering why Alexei had a house in such a secluded corner.
The journey took almost three hours. Twice she took the wrong turn and began to get irritated:
“How can the roads be so poorly marked? No signs, no right turns.”
Finally, she saw the sign she needed:
“Finally!”
The village seemed strange: a few kilometers away there were traces of civilization, but now… old wooden houses, many of which had been abandoned for a long time. “Which one will mine be now?” she thought, comparing it to the photograph. The house stood at the end of the village. She sighed: there was nothing but trampled grass and tire tracks instead of a decent road.
Vera drove slowly along a grassy road, her car bumping over roots and potholes. She stopped in front of the house and sat in the car for a while, observing the area.

Part 1: The House in the Village

Vera sat in the car, her fingers tight around the steering wheel, staring at the house that seemed to loom in front of her like some forgotten relic of another time. She had arrived at the remote village after an exhausting journey that took her through a labyrinth of poorly-marked roads. The journey, riddled with confusion and frustration, mirrored the uncertainty she felt about her life now. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this—an old, creaking house at the end of an empty, overgrown road, surrounded by silent, abandoned properties. The house itself seemed like a shadow of its former self, with peeling paint, cracked windows, and a rusted gate that hung loosely from its hinges.

As she sat there, the wind stirring the weeds around the house, Vera couldn’t help but wonder why Alexei had chosen this place for her. Was it a final insult? A twisted reminder of the life they had shared? Or had he truly intended for her to find some kind of peace here? She doubted it. She had lived with Alexei for many years, and she knew him well enough to recognize that his decisions were often driven by spite or convenience. But still, this…this felt different.

She took a deep breath and opened the door of the car. The air smelled faintly of mildew and decaying wood. The house was almost completely isolated—no neighbors, no other signs of life nearby. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the trees. She stood for a moment, just outside the vehicle, taking in the eerie stillness of the place. There was something unsettling about it, something that made her feel as though the house was holding its breath, waiting for her to make the next move.

She looked down at the envelope containing the key to the house, the one given to her at the reading of Alexei’s will. It had been clear that Milana was only interested in the “real” inheritance—the mansion in the city, the money, and everything that could be liquidated for her benefit. But this house, this remote, desolate property, had been left to Vera. The wording of the will made it sound like a cruel joke, as though Alexei had been trying to embarrass her, or perhaps force her into some kind of reckoning.

“Why here?” Vera muttered to herself, her voice barely audible in the stillness. She adjusted her coat and walked toward the house.

Her heels clicked against the gravel as she approached the front door. The wooden porch creaked under her weight, as though the house itself was sighing in resignation. Vera placed her hand on the doorknob, turned it, and stepped inside. The air inside was heavy with dust, and the smell of stale air hit her immediately. She wrinkled her nose and stepped further into the darkness. The floorboards groaned beneath her feet as she wandered through the narrow hallway. Cobwebs clung to the walls, and the faint outline of forgotten furniture remained in the corners.

There was a strange stillness about the place, almost as if it had been untouched for years. No signs of life, no remnants of a family who had once lived here. Yet, in the back of her mind, Vera couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about the house. The silence wasn’t just empty—it was oppressive.

She slowly explored the house, starting with the living room. It was sparsely furnished, with a few mismatched chairs and a dusty table in the center. But what caught her eye was the large painting on the wall above the fireplace. It depicted a family—she assumed they were the original owners of the house—but something about it felt off. The faces were strangely blurred, their eyes too dark, their smiles too wide. It was an unsettling image, one that made Vera’s skin crawl.

She stood in front of the painting for what felt like an eternity, her eyes scanning the faces, trying to make sense of the twisted expressions. Finally, she pulled herself away, breathing deeply. She had to focus. This house had been left to her, whether Alexei intended it as some final humiliation or as a last, misguided act of kindness.

Vera explored the rest of the house, each room more forlorn than the last. The kitchen was bare, the countertops covered in dust, the cupboards empty. Upstairs, the bedrooms were small and sparse, with only a few pieces of old, worn furniture. But there was one room that caught her attention—the attic.

The ladder to the attic was hidden behind a door in the corner of the hall. It was an odd place for an attic, and Vera hesitated. But something about it called to her. The air seemed to shift as she ascended the creaky ladder, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt like she was intruding on something, as if the attic held a secret that had been waiting for her.

When she finally reached the top, the attic was dark, the only light coming through a small, cracked window. As she stepped inside, she immediately noticed the boxes piled high in the corner—boxes that had clearly been untouched for years. She moved toward them, curiosity gnawing at her. There was something in the air here—something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She opened one of the boxes, and her eyes widened as she saw what was inside. Old photographs. Papers. Mementos. She carefully lifted a stack of photographs, her hands trembling. The images were of a family—an older man, a woman, and a young child. She froze when she saw the woman’s face.

It was Milana.

The woman in the photograph was unmistakably Milana, though much younger. Vera’s heart began to race. What was Milana’s connection to this house? Why was she in these photographs? As she sifted through the box, she found more disturbing things—letters, some of which were addressed to someone named Lily. Her hands shook as she flipped through the pages, reading words that made her stomach twist. The letters spoke of secrets, of hidden things, and of promises made long ago. But it was the name Lily that unsettled her the most.

The photographs were not of a happy family. They were dark, haunting, and Vera could see that something had gone terribly wrong. The more she looked, the more it felt as if the answers she was seeking were just beyond her grasp, hidden in plain sight.

Part 2: The Ghosts of the Past

The night descended quickly in the village, swallowing the day with a heavy, oppressive quiet. After her unsettling discovery in the attic, Vera found herself lying awake in the unfamiliar bed of the house Alexei had left her. The moonlight filtered weakly through the dust-laden window, casting pale shadows over the room. The air was thick with the scent of old wood, damp earth, and something else she couldn’t quite place. It reminded her of death—of abandonment.

She couldn’t sleep. The eerie silence of the house surrounded her, pressing in on all sides, making her feel as though the walls themselves were closing in. Her mind raced through the events of the day: the photograph of the family, Milana’s eerie connection to the house, the cryptic letters with the name Lily scribbled across them.

But it was the word Lily that continued to haunt her. It didn’t make sense. The girl in the photograph, the woman Milana had become—what was the link between them? And why had Alexei chosen to leave her this house? There was no love lost between them in the final years of their marriage. He had been cruel, indifferent, and selfish. But this? This didn’t add up. Why this house?

And why now?

Her fingers gripped the edge of the blanket, and she exhaled sharply, the weight of the past pulling at her chest. She couldn’t avoid it any longer. The house, the village, and even Milana were tied together by something she hadn’t yet understood. But she would. She had to.

With resolve in her heart, Vera rose from the bed and crept downstairs. The house was vast, but it felt small in its silence. She knew she shouldn’t go back to the attic, but something pushed her toward it. She needed answers, and they were buried there, in the boxes, in the forgotten things of the past.

The attic door creaked as she pushed it open, the hinges groaning with age. The room was dark, save for the dim light from the cracks in the roof. Vera walked carefully, her footsteps muffled by the dusty wooden floor, until she reached the pile of boxes. She began rifling through them once again, the weight of each document and photo pressing on her mind, but one thing caught her eye: a large leather-bound book that had been tucked away behind the other papers.

Her hands shook slightly as she picked it up, her heart pounding in her chest. The book was old, its pages yellowed with age, its cover cracked with time. She flipped it open and began to read.

The first pages were filled with mundane notes about the house—its history, repairs, the family’s dealings with the village—but as she turned the pages, her breath hitched. There, written in the same familiar hand as the letters in the attic, was the name Lily. And next to it, a brief entry that made her stomach drop.

“Lily, my dear. She was so beautiful, but I never meant for it to happen. The fire. I never meant for it to happen. But it did, and now there’s no going back.”

Vera felt the blood drain from her face. The words burned through her mind. The fire. I never meant for it to happen.

What was this? This wasn’t just some family tragedy. There was more to it—something dark, something she wasn’t ready to face. She flipped through the book desperately, page after page, each one revealing more of the family’s twisted secrets, of things long buried—of debts, betrayals, and horrific events. The deeper she read, the more the horror sank in.

One entry described the fire vividly—the night it took Lily’s life. But there was something strange about the entry. It wasn’t just about the loss of a child; it was about something darker. Something more sinister.

“Lily was supposed to die in the fire. She wasn’t meant to survive. But she did. She was saved by someone… or something. I thought it was a blessing, but now, I’m not so sure.”

Vera froze. Her mind reeled. She quickly scanned the remaining pages, but the rest were a blur of cryptic messages, random thoughts, and increasingly frantic scribbles. There was a pattern she couldn’t quite place. But one thing was clear—Lily had somehow survived the fire, and her survival was part of a much larger mystery.

Suddenly, Vera heard a noise from behind her—footsteps. She whipped around, heart hammering in her chest, only to find Ivan standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with concern.

“You shouldn’t be up here, Masha,” he said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of worry and curiosity. “I know you’re looking for something, but this house, this… it’s not a place for us to dwell. It’s a place for ghosts.”

Vera swallowed hard, her throat dry. She closed the book with shaking hands, the weight of its contents heavy in her chest. “What do you mean, ghosts?” she whispered.

“I mean the past has a way of catching up with us. This house isn’t just filled with memories. It’s filled with things we shouldn’t have been involved in. I don’t think Alexei knew what he was doing when he left you this place. But you have to stop digging. There are things here that need to stay buried.”

Vera stood up slowly, her mind racing. “Lily… she survived the fire, Ivan. She’s alive. And she’s here, somewhere. I can feel it.”

Ivan’s face hardened, his gaze sharp. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’re letting your grief cloud your judgment.”

But Vera shook her head, the fire in her chest burning brighter. “No, Ivan. I need to understand. This isn’t just about the house or the inheritance. It’s about Alexei, about Milana, about the fire. Something isn’t right here. And I won’t leave until I find the truth.”

Part 3: The Secrets of the House

The following days were filled with a quiet intensity as Vera became consumed by the house’s history, the book, and the mysterious connection between Lily and the fire. Ivan tried to dissuade her, offering his help in practical matters, but his warnings became more insistent as he saw Vera spiraling deeper into the house’s secrets.

Meanwhile, Milana’s presence in the village continued to irk her. She hadn’t yet fully understood Milana’s role in Alexei’s death or how she was connected to the house, but she knew Milana had something to do with it. She had to—Milana’s coldness, her indifference at the funeral, her unshakable confidence—everything about her screamed that she was hiding something.

Vera’s obsession with uncovering the truth about Lily and the fire began to take over her thoughts, her every waking moment. One night, she lay awake in the cold bed, the images of the book and her sister’s tragic death swirling in her mind. She tried to sleep, but her thoughts wouldn’t let her rest. Suddenly, she had an idea.

It was time to confront Milana.

The next morning, Vera dressed in black—a stark contrast to the colorful dresses she once wore—and set out for the village. Her hands were cold as she approached the small café where Milana often sat, talking to the locals as if she were untouchable. Vera had never spoken directly to her, but today, she wasn’t going to wait for answers. She was going to demand them.

When Vera arrived, Milana was sitting with a man—young, handsome, and obviously charmed by her. He smiled when he saw Vera, but Milana’s face remained impassive. She didn’t acknowledge Vera’s presence, her eyes cold and distant as if Vera were a mere inconvenience.

But Vera wasn’t going to be ignored. She approached the table, standing tall with a new sense of purpose.

“Milana,” she said, her voice clear. “I need to speak to you.”

Milana looked up, her lips curling into a smile that was more a smirk than anything else. “Ah, Vera. What a surprise. What is it that you need, exactly?”

Vera leaned in, her voice low, laced with the urgency of everything she had uncovered. “I want the truth. About the fire. About Lily. About everything.”

Milana’s eyes darkened, her smile fading. The air around them shifted, the tension palpable. The man beside Milana shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but Milana remained calm, her composure never slipping.

“The fire,” Milana said slowly, her voice smooth, almost too controlled. “What makes you think you have the right to know anything about that, Vera?”

“I do have the right. I had the right to know everything about the house, about what happened to my family, about why you’re here. Why you were with Alexei.”

Milana’s lips parted slightly, her composure faltering just for a moment before she regained control. “Alexei’s death was… unfortunate. But it wasn’t my fault.”

“You poisoned him,” Vera hissed. “You poisoned him, and you used his guilt to manipulate him. He never loved you, Milana. He was too broken from the fire, from the lies. But you… you had him killed.”

Milana stared at her for a long moment, and Vera could see the flicker of something in her eyes—a flicker of fear, something she didn’t expect.

But then Milana’s expression hardened again, and she spoke in a voice that sent a chill down Vera’s spine.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Vera. But I’ll tell you this—you’re not ready for the truth. You’ll never be ready.”

Vera took a step back, her body trembling with anger and fear. But Milana’s words felt like a premonition, like a warning of something darker. Something that Vera hadn’t yet seen.

The Final Revelation

The next few days were a blur. Vera began to piece together everything she had learned, and the more she uncovered, the more it became clear. Milana’s connection to the fire, to Lily’s disappearance, was undeniable. But there was something even darker that she hadn’t yet uncovered.

One evening, as Vera sat in the dimly lit living room of the house, she found the final piece of the puzzle. A hidden drawer in the attic—one she hadn’t noticed before. Inside was a folder filled with photographs, documents, and letters. As she sifted through them, her breath caught in her throat. There, among the papers, was a letter addressed to Alexei, one she recognized from the past. It was a letter from Lily.

“I know what you did. I will never forgive you for it. I will return, and you will suffer the consequences of your actions.”

The letter was signed Lily—but that wasn’t the most shocking part.

The photograph beneath it was. It was a picture of Lily. But there was something different about her. She wasn’t a child. She was an adult—older, much older than she should have been.

Vera dropped the photograph in shock. Lily had survived the fire, yes. But she hadn’t just survived. She had returned—changed, perhaps, by whatever darkness had consumed her. She wasn’t just a victim. She was part of something far bigger, something more sinister.

And now, as Vera stared at the final piece of the puzzle, she understood.

The house, the village, the secrets—everything was connected. And the truth, as terrifying as it was, would finally be revealed.

The End.