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!»

Neighbor Asked My Son to Shovel Snow for $10 a Day but Refused to Pay — So I Taught Him a Lesson He’ll Never Forget

When my 12-year-old son Ben took up our wealthy neighbor’s offer to shovel snow for $10 a day, he couldn’t wait to buy gifts for the family. But when that man refused to pay, calling it a “lesson about contracts,” Ben was heartbroken. That’s when I decided to teach him a lesson he’d never forget.

I’d always known my son Ben had a bigger heart than the world seemed to deserve. He was only 12 but carried a determination that could humble men twice his age.

A boy carrying many books | Source: Midjourney

Even so, I never imagined I’d be standing in the icy driveway next to my husband, exacting revenge against the man who thought cheating a child was just another business move.

It all began on a snowy morning early in December. Ben was buzzing with excitement after shoveling the driveway while I made breakfast. He burst into the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Mom, Mr. Dickinson said he’ll pay me $10 every time I shovel his driveway!” His grin stretched ear to ear.

A smiling boy | Source: Midjourney

Mr. Dickinson, our neighbor, was as insufferable as he was wealthy. He always bragged about his business ventures and showed off his luxury toys.

It wasn’t hard to guess he thought he was doing us all a favor by letting Ben “earn” his money. Still, Ben’s excitement was contagious, and I wasn’t about to crush his enthusiasm.

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” I said, ruffling his hair. “What’s the plan for all this cash?”

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

“I’m buying you a scarf,” he said with the seriousness only a 12-year-old could muster. “And a dollhouse for Annie.”

His eyes sparkled as he described every detail of the red scarf with tiny snowflakes, and the dollhouse with working lights that Annie had been obsessed with since she saw it in the toy store’s window display.

My heart swelled. “You’ve got it all planned out, huh?”

A happy woman | Source: Midjourney

He nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “And I’m saving what’s left for a telescope.”

Over the next few weeks, Ben became a blur of determination. Every morning before school, he bundled up in his oversized coat and boots, a knit hat pulled low over his ears. From the kitchen window, I watched him disappear into the frosty air, shovel in hand.

The muffled scrape of metal on the pavement echoed through the stillness.

A boy shoveling snow | Source: Midjourney

Sometimes he’d stop to catch his breath, leaning on the shovel, his breath forming little clouds in the freezing air. When he came inside, his cheeks were red, his fingers stiff, but his smile always shone through.

“How was it today?” I’d ask, handing him a cup of hot chocolate.

“Good! I’m getting faster,” he’d reply, his grin lighting up the room. He’d shake snow off his coat like a dog shedding water, sending damp clumps onto the rug.

A rug in an entrance hall | Source: Pexels

Each evening, Ben would sit at the kitchen table, tallying his earnings. The notepad he used was dog-eared and smudged with ink, but he treated it like a sacred ledger.

“Only 20 more dollars, Mom,” he said one night. “Then I can get the dollhouse and the telescope!”

His excitement made the hard work seem worth it, at least to him.

By December 23rd, Ben was a well-oiled machine of winter labor.

A person shoveling snow | Source: Pexels

That morning, he left the house humming a Christmas carol. I went about my day, expecting him to return as usual, tired but triumphant.

But when the door slammed open an hour later, I knew something was wrong.

“Ben?” I called out, rushing from the kitchen.

He stood by the door, his boots half-on, his gloves still clenched in his trembling hands. His shoulders heaved, and tears clung to the corners of his wide, panicked eyes.

A sad boy | Source: Midjourney

I kneeled beside him, gripping his arms. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

He wouldn’t talk at first, but eventually, he told me everything.

“Mr. Dickinson… he said he’s not paying me a single cent.”

The words hung in the air, heavy as a stone.

“What do you mean, he’s not paying you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Ben sniffled, his face crumpling.

A boy sobbing | Source: Midjourney

“He said it’s a lesson. That I should never accept a job without a contract.” His voice cracked, and the tears spilled over. “Mom, I worked so hard. I just don’t understand. Why would he do this?”

Anger surged through me, sharp and blinding. What kind of person cheats a child as a “business lesson”? I pulled Ben into a hug, pressing my hand against his damp hat.

“Oh, baby,” I murmured. “It’s not your fault. You did everything right. This is on him, not you.” I pulled back, brushing his hair from his face. “You don’t worry about this, okay? I’ll take care of it.”

A determined woman | Source: Midjourney

I stood, grabbed my coat, and stormed across the lawn. The sight of Dickinson’s house, glowing with holiday cheer, only stoked my fury. Laughter and music spilled into the cold night as I rang the doorbell.

He appeared moments later, wine glass in hand, his tailored suit making him look like a villain straight out of a bad movie.

“Mrs. Carter,” he said, his voice oozing false charm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

A man raising one eyebrow | Source: Midjourney

“I think you know why I’m here,” I said evenly. “Ben earned that money. You owe him $80. Pay him.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No contract, no payment. That’s how the real world works.”

I clenched my fists, willing myself to stay calm. I opened my mouth to argue about fairness and the cruelty of his supposed lesson, but the look in his eyes told me none of that would persuade him to do the right thing.

A man staring ahead | Source: Midjourney

No… there was only one way to deal with the Mr. Dickinsons of the world.

“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Dickinson. The real world is about holding people accountable.” My smile was so sweet it could’ve rotted teeth. “Enjoy your evening.”

As I walked away, an idea began to form. By the time I stepped back into our house, I knew exactly what had to be done.

A furious woman | Source: Midjourney

The next morning, while Dickinson and his guests still slept, I woke the household with a determined clap of my hands.

“Time to go, team,” I said.

Ben groaned as he crawled out of bed, but caught the determined gleam in my eye. “What are we doing, Mom?”

“We’re righting a wrong.”

A determined woman | Source: Midjourney

Outside, the air was bitter and still. My husband started the snowblower, the rumble cutting through the early quiet. Ben grabbed his shovel, gripping it like a sword. Even Annie, too small for the heavy work, bounced along in her boots, ready to “help.”

We began with our driveway, then moved to the sidewalk, clearing paths for the neighbors. The pile of snow grew steadily as we pushed it all toward Dickinson’s pristine driveway.

The cold bit at my fingers, but the satisfaction of each shovelful fueled me.

A person shoveling snow | Source: Pexels

Ben paused to catch his breath, leaning on his shovel. “This is a lot of snow, Mom,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face.

“That’s the point, honey,” I said, piling another scoop onto the growing mountain. “Think of it as a reverse Christmas miracle.”

Annie giggled as she pushed tiny mounds of snow with her toy shovel. “Mr. Grumpy’s not going to like this,” she chirped.

By mid-morning, Dickinson’s driveway was buried under a fortress of snow.

A huge pile of snow in a driveway | Source: Midjourney

It was higher than the hood of Dickinson’s sleek black car. I dusted off my gloves, stepping back to admire our handiwork.

“That,” I said, “is a job well done.”

It wasn’t long before he noticed. Soon, Dickinson stormed over, his face as red as the Christmas lights on his roof.

“What the hell have you done to my driveway?” he bellowed.

A man shouting at someone | Source: Midjourney

I stepped outside, brushing off my gloves like I had all the time in the world. “Oh, Mr. Dickinson, this is a little something called quantum meruit.”

“Quantum what?” His eyes narrowed, his confusion almost comical.

“It’s a legal concept,” I explained with a smile. “It means if you refuse to pay for someone’s labor, you lose the right to enjoy the benefit of it. Since you didn’t pay Ben, we simply undid his work. Fair’s fair, wouldn’t you agree?”

A woman glancing to one side | Source: Midjourney

Dickinson sputtered, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You can’t do that!”

I gestured toward the neighbors who had gathered to watch, their smiles thinly veiled. “Actually, I can. And if you’d like to call a lawyer, keep in mind that I have plenty of witnesses who saw you exploit a minor for free labor. That wouldn’t look great for someone like you, now would it?”

He glared at me, then at the crowd, realizing he’d lost. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stomped back to his house.

A house decorated for Christmas | Source: Pexels

By evening, the doorbell rang again, and there stood Dickinson, holding an envelope. He didn’t look me in the eye as he handed it over.

“Tell your son I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

I closed the door and handed the envelope to Ben. Inside were eight crisp $10 bills. Ben’s smile was worth more than all the money in the world.

Cash in an envelope | Source: Pexels

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, hugging me tight.

“No,” I whispered, ruffling his hair. “Thank you for showing me what real determination looks like.”

Here’s another story: When I arrived at the hospital to bring home my wife and newborn twins, I was met with heartbreak: Suzie was gone, leaving only a cryptic note. As I juggled caring for the babies and unraveling the truth, I discovered the dark secrets that tore my family apart.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.