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My Beauty baby, New York, NY (2025)

06/30/2025

— Find someone to look after the baby and come to the dacha, I need your help, — demanded my mother-in-law, but I refused.

— Kira, this is simply outrageous! The baby is already six months old, and you’re still fussing over her like a fragile vase. At your age, I was already raising two kids, going to work, and managing a thirty-sotka vegetable garden! — Berta Alexandrovna’s voice on the phone was as categorical as always.

Kira took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Little Olya had just fallen asleep after a long rocking, and the last thing the young mother wanted was to wake her daughter with a loud conversation.

— Berta Alexandrovna, I understand your concern about the garden, but Olya is still very small. She’s breastfeeding, and I can’t...

— Pump your milk! — her mother-in-law interrupted. — Find someone to leave the baby with and come to the dacha, I need your help. We have a big planting this weekend, and I can’t manage alone. Nikolay can’t do much with his back.

Kira looked at her sleeping daughter. She and Igor had waited so long for this child. They had spent five years paying off the mortgage on their small two-room apartment in a residential district, postponing having a baby until they got on their feet. And now, when they finally had Olya, the mother-in-law demanded she leave her with someone and go dig the garden beds?

— Sorry, but I won’t be able to come. Maybe Igor and I will stop by for a couple of hours on Sunday, but...

She didn’t get to finish. Berta Alexandrovna hung up.

— What did you tell her? — Igor asked when he came home from work. He looked tired — the construction company where he worked as an engineer was entering a busy season, and the workload had increased.

— I told her I can’t leave Olya. Your mother was very upset, — Kira rocked the baby in her arms.

Igor frowned.

— Mom is just used to everyone jumping at her command. She taught at a school for thirty years; the whole class marched to her tune. Now she’s retired and has no one to boss around, so she takes it out on us.

— But your sister never refuses her, — Kira noted.

— Sofya and Pavel live five minutes from our parents, and they don’t have a small child. Of course, it’s easier for them.

Igor’s phone rang. He looked at the screen and sighed.

— Mom. Looks like she’s going to try to persuade me now.

The weekend was approaching, and tension was mounting. Igor, caught between his wife and mother, suggested a compromise:

— Let’s go to the dacha as a family. We’ll spend the weekend there. I’ll help mom with the heavy work, you can be with Olya and help a little with something light. After all, our parents did a lot for us.

Kira looked at her husband doubtfully.

— Your mom will be unhappy that I’m not working at full capacity.

— I’ll talk to her, — Igor promised. — I’ll explain that your priorities are different now.

Kira agreed, though her inner voice warned that the trip wouldn’t bring anything good.

The dacha plot of Berta Alexandrovna and Nikolay Petrovich was a forty-minute drive from the city. The six sotkas had been turned by the hardworking hostess into a model farm: neat garden beds, a greenhouse, fruit trees and bushes, even a small pond with goldfish — a special pride of the mother-in-law and envy of the neighbors.

When Igor parked the car by the gate, Berta Alexandrovna was already standing on the porch of the house, arms crossed over her chest. Her short gray hair was neatly trimmed, and her face wore an expression of restrained displeasure.

— Finally, — she said instead of a greeting. — I thought you’d arrive by dinner.

— Mom, we left as soon as we could, — Igor hugged his mother. — Olya didn’t sleep well last night, so we had to wait until she ate and calmed down.

Berta Alexandrovna glanced at her daughter-in-law, who was taking a bag of baby things out of the car.

— When you were little, I adjusted the schedule around work, not work around the schedule.

Kira pretended not to hear the remark. She took the carrier with the peacefully sleeping Olya and headed to the house.

— Hello, Berta Alexandrovna. We brought you some city treats.

The mother-in-law barely nodded and turned to her son.

— Tomorrow we need to dig a big potato bed and fix the fence on Anna Sergeyevna’s side. She complained again that our bushes are shading her strawberries.

— We’ll do it, mom, — Igor nodded. — Where is dad?

— He’s in the shed fiddling with the tools. With his back, he can’t do much, so all hope is on you.

Kira went inside, trying not to pay attention to the cold reception. The small room was clean and cozy. Nikolay Petrovich, unlike his domineering wife, had golden hands and was constantly improving the dacha house. Wooden shelves, carved window trims, comfortable furniture — all made by him.

Olya woke up and started to whimper. Kira took the baby in her arms and began to rock her.

— You can put her on the couch while we have dinner, — said Berta Alexandrovna, entering the house. — You’re not going to hold her all the time, are you?

— She’s restless in new places, — Kira replied. — It’s better if I hold her a bit.

The mother-in-law pursed her lips but stayed silent. She began setting plates with treats on the table.

— Igor, call your father. We’ll have dinner.

The dinner passed in a tense atmosphere. Nikolay Petrovich, a quiet and good-natured man, tried to ease the mood with stories about dacha neighbors, but his wife kept interjecting with sharp remarks about modern young mothers who “pamper their children too much.”

— In my time, children weren’t held in arms for hours, — she said, watching Kira trying to calm the crying Olya. — They were put in the crib and had to get used to being independent.

— Mom, she’s only six months old, — Igor gently objected.

— So what? You were that age when I went back to work. And nothing, you grew up normal.

— Times were different, — Nikolay Petrovich added. — Nowadays, young parents pay more attention to their children, and that’s good.

Berta Alexandrovna gave her husband a dissatisfied look.

— Of course, you’re always on the side of the young. That’s why they ride us like pack animals.

After dinner, Kira was putting Olya to bed while Igor helped his father in the shed. Berta Alexandrovna was washing dishes, loudly clattering plates. It was obvious she was displeased that her daughter-in-law hadn’t offered to help.

When Olya finally fell asleep, Kira went out to the veranda. Her mother-in-law was sitting there with a tablet, studying the weather forecast.

— Tomorrow will be a good day for planting, — she said without looking at Kira. — I expect you to help me with the carrots and beets. Igor will be busy with the potatoes and fence.

— I’ll try to help when Olya is asleep, — Kira replied cautiously.

— If you wait until she falls asleep, we won’t finish before autumn, — cut in the mother-in-law. — Put the stroller near the garden bed so she can breathe fresh air. She won’t melt.

Kira pressed her lips to keep from saying something sharp. She understood arguing was useless. It was better to wait for the morning and deal with problems as they came.

The night was difficult. Olya, unused to the new place, woke up every hour and cried. Kira barely slept, rocking her daughter. Igor tried to help, but the child only calmed down in her mother’s arms.

In the morning, exhausted from the sleepless night, Kira went to the kitchen, where her mother-in-law was already bustling by the stove.

— Finally, — she threw over her shoulder. — I thought you’d sleep until noon. Breakfast is on the table, eat quickly and get to work. We need to finish the main work before the heat.

— Good morning, — muttered Kira, feeling broken. — Olya didn’t sleep well, I’ll feed her now and...

— Feed her after work, — her mother-in-law interrupted. — Nikolay will sit with her while we’re in the garden beds. He can’t do much with his back anyway.

Kira gave a helpless look to Igor, who was spreading butter on bread.

— Mom, Kira needs to feed Olya. It won’t take long.

— There’s never enough time if you waste it thoughtlessly, — Berta Alexandrovna snapped. — When I was your age, Igor, I worked, kept house, and still managed the dacha. And you always have excuses.

Nikolay Petrovich, sitting in the corner with a newspaper, coughed quietly.

— Berta, let the kids have breakfast in peace. The whole day is ahead.

By noon, the tension peaked. Igor was working with his father on the fence, and Kira was trying to help her mother-in-law with weeding, occasionally distracted by crying Olya. Berta Alexandrovna demonstratively sighed and shook her head every time her daughter-in-law went to the stroller.

— In my time, children weren’t held all the time, — she repeated. — They got used to independence from the cradle.

Kira remained silent, preserving her last bit of patience. She understood any response would only worsen the situation.

Suddenly, the gate opened, and Sofya and Pavel — Igor’s sister and her husband — entered the yard. It was a surprise — usually, they warned before coming.

— Mom, Dad, hello! — Sofya, an energetic woman resembling her mother in her determined character, hugged her parents. — We decided to come help. Pavel took the day off.

Berta Alexandrovna beamed.

— Now that’s a surprise! That’s what I call real care for parents!

The comment was clearly meant for Kira, who was rocking the crying Olya at that moment. She greeted Sofya and Pavel, trying not to show her irritation.

— How is my niece? — Sofya approached Kira and stroked Olya’s head. — She’s so big already!

— Growing, — Kira smiled. — Just a bit restless in the new place.

— Spoiled the child, — Berta Alexandrovna inserted. — Sofya and Pavel understand the importance of helping parents, while some just fuss over their baby.

Sofya glanced quickly at her mother’s daughter-in-law and frowned slightly.

— Mom, Kira has a small child; it’s not easy for her.

— I also had small children and still managed work and household, — Berta Alexandrovna retorted. — Well, let’s get to work. Sofya, help me with the greenhouse, and you, Pavel, go to the men fixing the fence.

When her mother-in-law walked away, Sofya quietly said to Kira:

— Don’t pay attention. She’s always like this. I grew up with it and got used to it.

Kira nodded gratefully. It was nice to get a little support.

At lunch, Sofya unexpectedly spoke about the dacha neighbor, Anna Sergeyevna.

— Mom, do you know what Anna Sergeyevna is telling the neighbors?

Berta Alexandrovna tensed.

— What lies has that gossip made up now?...
Continued in the comments

06/30/2025

Irina and Grigory divorced when their daughter Anya turned two years old. Grigory simply couldn’t live with his wife. She was always dissatisfied and angry. Sometimes she complained that Grisha didn’t earn enough, sometimes that he spent too little time at home and didn’t help her with the child at all.

Grisha really tried to please her. But it didn’t work. Many acquaintances said that Irina was suffering from postpartum depression and maybe she should see a doctor and take some medication.

But Grisha doubted that. She wasn’t an angel even before the child was born, and now she was completely out of control.

The man couldn’t even remember the last time he saw a smile on Irina’s face. Even when she was with the child, her face showed such irritation that you immediately wanted to take the daughter away and hide her somewhere.

Still, Grisha did suggest his wife see a psychologist. But in response, he got such an outburst of negativity that it was hard to imagine.

“Do you think I’m crazy or what?! You think I’m hysterical, huh?! How can anyone not go insane living with you?!”

After all this, Grisha couldn’t take it anymore and said he was filing for divorce. Irina, to spite him, took their daughter and moved to another city. She didn’t apply for child support and didn’t tell him the new address.

Grisha searched for his daughter for a while, then stopped. He loved Anya and would gladly have continued being her father. But as soon as he imagined what he would have to face and how much he’d hear from his ex-wife, he simply decided to accept it.

Irina was full of anger. And that anger never went away. She blamed everything on her ex-husband, believing he left her because he found someone else. That it had nothing to do with her.

And that bitterness later turned against her daughter.

She didn’t hit Anya or abuse her, but the girl grew up surrounded by negativity that many people never even experience.

There were never any celebrations in their home. Anya only found out that people celebrate birthdays when she went to kindergarten.

“Mom, imagine, Anton’s birthday was today, and everyone congratulated him! And then they gave him presents! Will I have one too?”

“No. That’s nonsense, there’s nothing to celebrate that you have no relation to. I gave birth to you, so I’m the only one who should celebrate! And don’t ask such questions again. And anyway, it’s a waste of money!”

They didn’t celebrate New Year in their family either. Fortunately, Ded Moroz (Santa Claus) came to the kindergarten and congratulated the children, so that was Anya’s only holiday. On New Year’s Day itself, she and her mother ate the simplest food and went to bed as usual.

Irina couldn’t stand laughter. Probably because she had forgotten how to laugh herself. When Anya watched some funny cartoons and laughed loudly, Irina always scolded her.

“Why are you neighing like a horse? There’s nothing funny there!”

Anya understood that smiling was bad. Laughing was bad. You had to be serious and sad like mom.

Whether Irina had any mental health issues is unknown. She never went to a psychologist, considering it a waste of money. She believed people didn’t live for fun. And those who were always cheerful were just shallow and stupid.

Anya tried candy for the first time also in kindergarten, at someone’s birthday party. It was so delicious!

In the evenings, she dreamed that she would grow up and buy herself a whole bag of candy. This thought warmed her soul, and even a forbidden smile appeared on her face.

It’s unknown how this girl’s fate would have turned out if she had continued growing up with her mother. Each year, her mother became angrier and more resentful of life. Even neighbors avoided her, and old ladies crossed themselves when passing by. They said the devil himself lived inside her, because no one could be that cruel.

But apparently, all this anger had a destructive effect on her body. Irina was diagnosed with cancer. Since she didn’t trust doctors, she ended up in the hospital by ambulance when it was already impossible to help her.

A neighbor took Anya in when Irina was taken away. Before leaving, Irina said Anya’s father’s full name and the city where he lived. After all, she didn’t completely neglect her daughter.

Irina never returned from the hospital. They didn’t even immediately tell little Anya that her mother was gone. The girl was already scared and afraid to say or do anything extra.

The neighbor passed Irina’s words to the child welfare authorities, who quickly found Anya’s father.
Continued in the comments

06/30/2025

The son tied up his elderly mother and took her to the forest to quickly get the inheritance. But he forgot that not only silence lives among these trees...

Alla Sergeyevna was slowly coming to herself, feeling how fatigue heavily settled on her shoulders. Her head was pounding, her eyelids felt like lead. She heard the children closing the door — carefully, trying not to make noise. It was strange because usually they came and went loudly, as if deliberately emphasizing their presence. But today everything was different.

She mustered her strength, propped herself up on her elbows against the headboard, and looked out the window. Through the dusty glass, she caught sight of Pyotr and Marina quickly heading toward the forest. Their silhouettes flickered between the trees until they disappeared behind the dense wall of greenery. Alla Sergeyevna tried to call out:

— Marina! Petya! Wait!

But her voice was weak, barely more than a whisper. The children did not turn back. Another moment—and they were no longer visible. The woman closed her eyes, but opened them again a second later. Tears streamed down her cheeks like mountain spring water, flowing over the deep wrinkles time had carved into her face.

“How did it come to this? How could I have let it get this far?” she thought, feeling a void forming inside her, cold and bottomless like a well.

Her son had always been a difficult child. Whether it was his nature or fate playing a cruel joke — no one knew. He had spent his whole life “wandering,” as Alla Sergeyevna put it, from one city to another, from one job to another. Sometimes it seemed he had found himself, but then everything would collapse again. And then, when he was over forty, he came back home — with a young wife named Marina.

He didn’t come empty-handed, but neither was he wealthy. Only with hope, which soon began to crumble like sand slipping through fingers. Alla Sergeyevna welcomed them warmly. Well, she thought, let it be — family nearby, a grandson will be born, and then a new life will begin.

Vanka, her beloved grandson, had lived with her since birth. She loved him with all her soul, rejoiced at every step he took, every victory. She had a big house, savings — everything people have after many years of work. Once, while her husband was still alive, they built this house together, saving on everything, putting aside every ruble.

But one day Pyotr found out how much money his mother had in her bank accounts. His face changed at that moment. It became hard, almost unfamiliar.

— Mother, you’re so rich and you keep quiet? — he asked with a strange tone — half surprised, half accusing.

— Rich? — Alla Sergeyevna chuckled. — That’s not wealth. Just a little to help my grandson, maybe buy an apartment...

— No way! Let him earn it himself! — her son sharply interrupted. — You have a son, you know! Why does everything go only to Vanya?

He angrily stomped his feet and turned away, but then, calming down a bit, spoke again:

— Mother, there’s a tempting opportunity here. You just need to invest a little, but the profit will be huge!

Alla Sergeyevna shook her head. She knew that look — a mixture of hope and greed awakening.

— You invested before. And what came of it? No money, no profit. But decide for yourself.

Pyotr rubbed his hands, pleased as if he had already gotten her consent:

— Mother, I knew you wouldn’t leave me in trouble! I only need five hundred thousand.

— Only? — she repeated sarcastically. — And when did you manage to earn that?

Then Pyotr blushed like a tomato. In the one and a half years since their return, neither he nor his wife had managed to find steady work. They sought easy ways, dreamed of wealth, but did nothing to achieve it.

— I thought you would give...

— And how did you come up with that? I earned that money through hard work, not just given. To anyone, even my son, I won’t give it easily.

— But I’m your son!

— That’s exactly why I want you to learn to value money. You know, even if Vanya asked, I would think about it. Because he has a mind, a desire to work, and the drive for something more than just freeloading.

These words hurt Pyotr deeply. He said many hurtful things to his mother, but the conversation was interrupted by a sudden quarrel that Ivan, returning from school, accidentally overheard. Without extra words, he pushed his father out of the room, gave his grandmother valerian drops, and carefully said:

— Don’t cry, Grandma. I have six months of study left, then practice. After practice, you and I — anywhere, even to the ends of the earth!

Alla Sergeyevna smiled, stroking her grandson’s hair, although she understood she no longer had the strength for such journeys. But Vanya never gave up, always found words to support her.

Then Ivan left for another city. He called often, told about his successes, about how soon he would be able to take her to live with him. But Alla Sergeyevna just waved it off, thinking she didn’t care anymore where to go.

And now — tied hands, cold floor, darkness, and betrayal. How could it come to this? After all, this was her son, her own flesh and blood! Because of money?

Alla Sergeyevna decided — she would no longer fight. She would just wait until it was all over. She didn’t know how much time had passed — an hour or a day. She lost track of time. Her head was pounding, thoughts tangled. And suddenly she heard voices. Could it be they had returned? To finish her off completely?

She reached for the window, trying to see who was there. And she saw a girl. She was walking through the forest, talking to her little dog...
Continued in the comments

06/30/2025

Little sunshine surrounded by flowers 🌻✨💕

06/30/2025

Beauty and the blooms 🌹💕 Adorable!

06/29/2025

The Oligarch’s Daughter Pretended to Be Poor to Test Her Fiancé — But Didn’t Expect Such a Reaction

Each of us has that inner voice — not loud, but persistent. It whispers quietly, almost imperceptibly, yet it knows the truth. Alina had such a voice too. And for several months now, it had been telling her:

— Don’t do it. You’ll ruin everything again. Why can’t you just relax and be happy?

But she didn’t listen. As usual.

Her friends, as always, were nearby — and, as always, they didn’t give her a chance to hear that voice. They nagged her from morning till night:

— Just leave him, Alyonka! You don’t need him at all. He’s only interested in your money!

Alina nodded. Let it be so. It was easier to believe them than to listen to herself.

And her father? Anatoly Alexandrovich — a sensible man, an experienced businessman, and a caring parent — stayed silent. He stayed silent for a long time, watching his daughter from afar, as if waiting for her to realize herself that something was wrong. But one day he couldn’t hold back:

— Listen, aren’t you afraid that Pasha will get offended if he finds out about your little games? He won’t forgive you...

— Oh, Dad, you’re like a child! Who refuses money? If he loves me — he’ll be glad to get a bonus, — Alina scoffed, adjusting her expensive purse on her shoulder.

Her father shook his head:

— I don’t know... The guy didn’t seem like someone who would tolerate other people’s rules just for money.

— Yeah, and Oleg “didn’t seem” either, — she flared up. — And then turned out to be a jerk!

Anatoly Alexandrovich sighed:

— Well, of course, no one except you can lump everyone together. You’re a smart girl; you should understand that.

— I understand... — she pondered. — But then what should I do? What if it’s the same here? I trusted Oleg like myself...

Her father hugged her like when she was a child running to him after another hurt or scrape. Kissed the top of her head:

— Do as you see fit. Just remember one thing: if anyone dares to hurt you — I’ll deal with them.

— I know, Daddy. But I’m a big girl now. I’ll manage on my own.

And she came up with a plan! A real female trap. One no man could fall into twice. Alina was sure: if Pasha was truly genuine, he would pass the test. If not — to hell with him.

She got into the car and drove to the village — to find a suitable place for her performance. She found it quickly: an old house, abandoned, overgrown with grass, but with a good foundation. A couple of hours of work by local craftsmen — and it looked like a livable place. Alina paid generously and, satisfied, inspected the result.

— Wow, people really live like this... Can you imagine? — said Ninka, her best friend, with a slight mix of envy and disbelief.

Alina laughed — nervously, with a bitter edge:

— What, it’s beautiful! Look out the window — nature, fresh air... Isn’t this a dream?

— It’s beautiful, yes, but only to look at before rushing back to civilization.

— Oh, Nin, what a performance I’ve started...

On the way home, Alina remembered Oleg again. God, what a fool she was! She had already picked out a wedding dress, walked around happy, glowing with joy. Then she forgot a folder with documents at home and returned after ten minutes. And overheard him.

Oleg was chatting on the phone with a friend, pacing the room:

— You can’t imagine how I force myself to sleep with her! But as soon as I think about her money — everything falls into place, ha-ha! And you know what’s funniest? When she leaves, I massage my face with my hands — to get rid of that idiotic lovesick expression. Can’t wait for the wedding! Then I’ll say I’m sleeping poorly and sleep separately...

He turned around. And saw her.

The phone almost dropped from his hands.

— Alin... what are you doing here?

— Listening to how much you love me, — she replied, cold as steel.

— You misunderstood! I wasn’t talking about you at all!

— Get out. Now.

— Wait, don’t get hot-headed...

— One more word — I’m calling Dad.

Oleg’s face twisted.

— Dad? Of course! Who are you without Daddy, ugly little fool! Who needs you without money?

Then Alina called her father. She was crying, gasping, choking on tears. Anatoly Alexandrovich rushed over faster than the wind. And Oleg disappeared from the city even faster.

For six months, Alina didn’t leave the house. As if she was sick with something invisible. Then she slowly began to come back to life. Made peace with herself. Decided to herself: “Enough. No more men.”

But a year later, she met Pasha. And everything took off...

At first, she didn’t want to admit even to herself that he had caught her attention. That she was drawn to him like a magnet. But over time she realized: if anyone is worthy of trust, it’s him.

He didn’t even know who her father was. Pasha was different. He didn’t know Anatoly Alexandrovich Kumarin — one of the richest men in the city. She deliberately bought simple clothes, didn’t carry a penny extra, watched her speech not to give herself away by accident.

And one day Pasha said:

— Alin, let’s go to my place! I mean... yours. You promised to show me where you live.

— Of course, — she replied, though her heart clenched.

— I’ll borrow a car from a friend for three days!

— Are you sure? My place... it’s not a palace. And nothing good awaits us there anyway.

Pashka hugged her tightly:

— What are you talking about? How can nothing good be if we’re together? That’s the best thing there is! And the rest — we’ll make ourselves.

Alina closed her eyes, pressing against him. God, how she wished it was true...

Yesterday they filed the paperwork at the registry office. And today she decided to give him one last test.

When Pasha saw the house, his eyes became as wide as saucers. Alina tightened inside — now he would say that he didn’t want a poor girl like that...

— Something wrong? — she barely managed.

— Listen... This house looks just like my grandfather’s! I feel like I’ve fallen back into childhood! And do you have a river nearby?

Alina feverishly tried to remember about a river, but Pasha had already jumped out of the car and was running around the yard like a child:

— Alinka! We’ll put a gazebo here! And here we’ll lay a path and plant flowers!

She stood smiling, confused, not believing her eyes.

— And... where will we get money for all this?

— Where else? I’ll earn it! We’ll work all week and come here on weekends. By the time our baby is born, everything will be beautiful and comfortable here!

Alina wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. What if he already knows everything? And is just playing with her? What if not? Then she must confess...

— Pash, where are your parents?

— I only have my dad. He’ll come to meet you in a couple of days.

Pasha spent the whole day fixing, planing, planning, telling about his dreams. In the evening they went fishing, visited the village store — and he paid everywhere.

Alina called her father:

— Dad, come tomorrow. And bring Ninka and my friends.

— So, finally believe in the guy?

— Yes, Dad... I’m such a fool. Pashka is so real... He catches fish, cooks himself. And it’s so tasty!

— Tasty?

— Honestly, I’ve never eaten anything tastier in my life.

Just last night Pasha was thinking aloud about a mortgage, about a second job... Alina wanted to tell him everything, but couldn’t bring herself to speak. Not now. Maybe never.

Her father and friends arrived by evening. Pavel, stepping out of the car, looked surprised at two huge SUVs by the old village gate:

— This is for us? Someone important?...
Continued in the comments

06/29/2025

He inherited a house standing in the middle of a lake… Yet what he found inside completely changed his life.

The phone ringing in the apartment caught Elliot Row by the stove. An omelet was frying in the pan, filling the kitchen with the aroma of garlic and melted butter. He wiped his hands on a towel and cast an irritated glance at the screen — the number was unknown.

“Hello?” he answered shortly, continuing to watch the dish.

“Mr. Row, this is your family notary. You need to come to me tomorrow morning. There is an inheritance matter. Documents need to be signed.”

Elliot hesitated. His parents were alive and well, so from whom could he have inherited? He didn’t even ask questions — simply nodded silently, as if the caller could see him, and hung up.

The next morning was overcast and foggy. As Elliot drove through the city, his mild confusion gradually turned into annoyance. The notary himself was already waiting for him at the entrance to the office.

“Come in, Elliot. I understand this all sounds strange. But if it were something ordinary, I wouldn’t bother you on your day off.”

The office was empty. Usually, there was a busy bustle here, but now only the echo of footsteps on the wooden floor broke the silence. Elliot sat down on the chair opposite the desk, folding his arms.

“This concerns your uncle — Walter Jonas.”

“I don’t have an uncle named Walter,” Elliot immediately objected.

“Nevertheless, he bequeathed all his property to you.” The notary carefully placed an old key, a yellowed map, and a sheet of paper with an address in front of him. “A mansion on the water. It now belongs to you.”

“Excuse me… Are you serious?”

“The house is located in the middle of Lake Connamah, in central Connecticut.”

Elliot took the key. It was heavy, covered with a faded pattern. He had never heard of the man or this place. Yet something clicked inside him — that very moment when curiosity overcomes common sense.

Within an hour, his backpack contained a couple of T-shirts, a bottle of water, and some food. According to his GPS, the lake was only forty minutes from home. This only increased his interest: how could he not have known such a place was so close?

When the road ended, a lake opened before him — gloomy, still, like a mirror. In the middle stood the house — huge, dark, as if it had grown straight out of the water.

On the terrace of a waterside café sat old men with mugs of coffee. Elliot approached them.

“Excuse me,” he began, “this house on the lake… do you know who lived there before?”

One of the men slowly set down his cup.

“We don’t talk about that place. We don’t go there. It should have disappeared many years ago.”

“But someone lived there, right?”

“We’ve never seen anyone on the shore. Never. Only at night do we hear the rustling of boats. Someone replenishes supplies, but we don’t know who. And we don’t want to know.”

At the dock, he noticed a faded sign: “June’s Boats.” Inside, a woman with a tired face greeted him.

“I need a boat to the house in the middle of the lake,” Elliot said, handing over the key. “I inherited it.”

“No one goes there,” she replied coldly. “That place scares many. Me, too.”

But Elliot did not back down. His words grew more insistent until finally she agreed.

“All right. I’ll take you. But I won’t wait. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The house towered over the water like a forgotten fortress. The wooden pier swayed beneath his feet. June carefully docked and threw a rope.

“We’re here,” she muttered.

Elliot stepped onto the shaky platform, wanted to thank her, but the boat was already pulling away.

“Good luck! Hope you’ll be waiting for me here tomorrow,” she called and disappeared into the fog.

Now he was alone.

His hand reached for the lock. The key went in easily. There was a dull click, and the door slowly creaked open.

Inside, it smelled of dust but was surprisingly fresh. Large windows, thick curtains, and many portraits. One especially caught his attention — a man by the lake, with the very house towering behind him. Caption: “Walter Jonas, 1964.”

In the library, the walls were lined with books marked with notes in the margins. In the corner study stood a telescope and neat stacks of notebooks — observation and weather records, the most recent dated last month.

“What was he looking for?” Elliot whispered.

In the bedroom — dozens of stopped clocks. On the dresser — a locket. Inside — a photo of a baby with the inscription: “Row.”

“Was he watching me? My family?..”

On the mirror hung a note: “Time reveals what seemed long forgotten.”

And in the attic lay boxes of newspaper clippings. One was circled in red: “Boy from Middletown missing. Found days later unharmed.” Year — 1997. Elliot went pale. That was him.

In the dining room, one of the chairs was pulled out. On it lay his school photo.

“This is no longer just strange…” he muttered, feeling noise and confusion in his head.

His stomach clenched with anxiety. He quickly ate some canned food found in the old buffet and silently went up to one of the guest rooms. The sheets were clean, as if they had been waiting for someone for a long time. Outside the window, the lake caught the pale moonlight, and the house seemed alive — it breathed along with the water’s surface.

But sleep would not come. Too many questions. Who was Walter Jonas? Why had no one heard of him? Why had his parents never once mentioned a brother? And why this mysterious obsession with himself?

When Elliot finally slipped into a restless sleep, the house was already engulfed in true darkness — the kind where the creak of floorboards sounds like footsteps, and shadows on the wall seem like living creatures.

A sharp metallic clang pierced the silence. He je**ed upright in bed. A second sound — as if a massive door below had slammed open. Elliot grabbed his phone — there was no signal. The phone screen reflected only his own tense eyes.

He grabbed a flashlight and stepped into the corridor...
Continued in the comments

My Beauty baby

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