For many years I worked abroad, and when I returned to the house I had given to my daughter myself, I saw her washing the floors in a maid’s uniform: what I did to teach my son-in-law’s family a lesson left everyone in shock 

I lived abroad for almost fifteen years. I worked as an accountant in an office, saved every penny, and lived with one single thought — to secure my daughter’s future. In our hometown she had a family: a husband, children. For them I bought a large house, put everything in my daughter’s name, and was sure that she was living there peacefully and happily.

All those years we talked on the phone, but the conversations were always short. My daughter said everything was fine, that she was tired, that she had a lot to do. I attributed it to everyday life, to the children, to life itself. I missed her and dreamed of the day I would return home.

When I finally arrived, I decided not to tell anyone. I wanted to make a surprise. I imagined opening the door with my own key and saying, “Surprise! I’m home.” But the surprise was waiting for me.

I slowly opened the door of the house I had bought myself. And I froze.

In the spacious living room, on her knees, my daughter was washing the floors. She was wearing a blue maid’s uniform, and over it a dirty apron with the words: “Maid of this house.” Her hands were shaking. On her wrists I immediately noticed bruises — the kind that appear when someone grabs you too hard.

She looked exhausted, aged, as if the life had been drained out of her. She didn’t notice me right away.

“Mom?..” she whispered softly when she looked up.

She ran to me, hugged me, and began hurriedly whispering that everything was fine, that I had misunderstood, that they had guests. But the truth came out very quickly.

Living in the house were her father-in-law, her mother-in-law, and their youngest daughter. They had moved in “temporarily,” but quickly became the masters of the house. Her husband was completely on their side. My daughter cooked, cleaned, washed, got up earlier than everyone else and went to bed later than everyone else. For them, she was not the mistress of the house, but a servant. In my house. In the house I bought for her happiness.

I listened in silence. And then I did something that left everyone stunned  Continuation in the first comment 

That very night, on New Year’s Eve, I threw them all out. Without shouting. Without hysteria. I simply called a taxi and said they had ten minutes to leave. Their belongings — later. The house — is mine. The documents — are with me.

They spent New Year’s with some relatives. My daughter and I — together. For the first time in many years, she was smiling sincerely.

But it didn’t end there. We went to the police. We told everything: about the beatings, the coercion, the psychological pressure. There were inspections, interrogations, reports. The husband disappeared from her life just as quickly as he had once entered it.

Now my daughter is once again the mistress of her own home. And I am by her side. And if anyone thinks they can destroy someone else’s life by hiding behind “family,” they are deeply mistaken.