“You’re such a poor thing,” my mother-in-law laughed, not imagining that I was working as a cleaner on purpose… and that right now she was standing in MY own business center.
“And to think my son got himself into this mess…”
Her voice sounded like a sl:ap, forcing me to straighten up. I gripped the mop handle tightly and turned slowly.
Maria Teresa, my mother-in-law, stood in the middle of the hallway with her arms crossed. She was wearing an expensive pantsuit, impeccable hair, and that wrinkle of contempt next to her lips. She worked as the head of accounting for one of the largest companies that rented offices in the building.
“At least you could hold your head up while you mop the floor. What if someone from management sees you with that sour face? They’ll fire you in two minutes.”
“Good morning, Doña MarÃa Teresa.”
She snorted, scanning me from top to bottom.
— Good morning, good morning… What an irony. To have the surname Orlova, which sounds almost aristocratic, and end up with a rag in your hand.
I remained silent. I had barely been married to Diego for a month and was already in the third week of my social experiment.
An experiment that had begun after my father’s death. He had left me this gleaming business center: his life’s work. And I, who had spent the last few years almost always outside of Spain, knew it only through numbers in reports. No one had ever seen me in person.
I decided that, before moving into his office, I should see everything through his eyes. Start from the bottom. To understand how the machine really worked. To see people without masks. Above all, my new in-laws.
“Listen carefully, Orlova,” she said, lowering her voice as she leaned closer, enveloping me in a cloud of pungent perfume. “You use a very expensive German floor product here. I need some of that concentrate for home. Could you get me some?”
She winked at me.
“In a soda bottle. No one will notice. And I’ll make it up to you.”
I looked at her perfect nails and the gold ring with a huge stone. Diego had told me his mother was old-school: tough, direct, but fair. He’d asked me to give her a chance.
“This is just an experiment, Ana,” I repeated to myself. “Two months. You’re just an observer.”
“I can’t, Doña MarÃa Teresa. That would be stealing.”
My mother-in-law burst into laughter, loud and resonating throughout the hallway.
“Stealing? Come on, girl, who’s going to count a few drops?” Think of my son. He needs a real wife, not someone who ekes out a living in poverty and acts like a moralist.
She took some crumpled bills out of her purse.
“Here, so you have enough. Consider it my contribution to your family’s well-being.”
The money fell onto the freshly mopped floor.
I looked first at her, then at the bills. She was waiting. She expected me to bend down in humiliation to pick them up. Her eyes shone with obvious triumph.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you saying anything? This must be a fortune for you. In your situation, you should be clutching every coin.”
She scanned me, lingering on my blue work uniform.
“I don’t understand what Diego saw in you. Empty. Absolutely empty.”
I straightened slowly, looking straight into her eyes. My gaze was calm, cold, analytical: like that of an entomologist observing a repulsive insect.
— I’ll think about it, Doña MarÃa Teresa.
Clearly, she expected another reaction: tears, pleading, a fit of hysteria. But not that distant tone.
— Well, think about it, — she said disdainfully as she left. — But don’t take long. Opportunities like this don’t come along every day. Especially for someone like you.
That night, I told Diego everything. Without emotion, just facts: the request to steal, the bills on the floor, the insults. He frowned, stirring the already cold dinner on his plate.
— Ana, you know my mother. She has a complicated character. She had a very hard childhood, she was self-made. She hates poverty, and sometimes… she gets carried away when she sees it in others.
— And that gives her the right to humiliate people? Diego, she asked me to steal from my workplace.
— I didn’t mean it, — he rubbed his brow. — It’s her strange way of testing you. She wants to make sure you’re not weak. And the money… maybe he just wanted to help you, but didn’t know how to do it delicately.
I looked at him and didn’t recognize him. My Diego, good and sensitive, was now repeating poisonous words. He didn’t agree with her, I could see it in his eyes. But he was terribly afraid of confronting his mother.
— She called me poor, Diego.
— Bah, they’re just words. Please, Ana, try to get closer to her, be more patient. She’s a difficult woman, she needs attention. Smile at her, talk about her work. You’ll see she’ll change.
The conversation went nowhere. He chose comfort over me. He didn’t want to see the truth, because that truth destroyed his comfortable world.
The next day, Maria Teresa intercepted me by the cleaning room.
— So, what then? Did you bring the bottle?…
For a few seconds, I stood motionless in front of her, still holding the mop in my hands. My heart pounded, while two voices clashed in my head: one screamed at me to reveal the whole truth, to tell her who I really was and that the building belonged to me; the other whispered: not yet, wait.
“No” I replied calmly. “I didn’t bring anything.”
She raised her eyes to heaven.
“Obviously… I already knew you’re good for nothing but cleaning floors.”
I let her go, even though a storm was brewing inside.
That night, at home, I told my husband everything.
“Did she ask you to steal again?” he asked.
“Yes. And this time even more brazenly.”
He lowered his gaze.
“Anna, please don’t turn this into a war. You know what my mother is like.” She’s tough, but she’s still my mother.
At that moment, I realized that if I relied solely on her support, I’d always hit a wall. I had to act on my own.
A week passed. I continued working as a cleaner. I watched, listened, took notes. Some looked down on me, others smiled sincerely, offering help. In those days, I learned more about human nature than in all my years of school.
But Mrs. Margarita wouldn’t budge. She felt more and more powerful over me. One morning, while I was cleaning the windows of the conference room, she came in loudly and, in front of several employees, blurted out:
“Maybe you should also learn how to iron suits. Who knows, with luck, one day you’ll be able to wear one.”
The laughter that followed pierced me like needles. My face burned, but I remained silent.
The day of truth arrived sooner than expected. A meeting with all the building’s tenants was scheduled: I was to officially introduce myself as the new owner.
When I entered the large room, wearing an elegant suit, my hair tied back, and my gaze steady, absolute silence fell. Madame Margarita paled.
“Good morning,” I said clearly. “My name is Anna Ionescu. Perhaps some of you have already seen me… in the blue uniform. Yes, for the past few months I’ve worked here as a cleaner, in my own building.
I wanted to observe how everything worked from the inside and discover the true faces of the people.
A murmur ran through the room. All eyes fell on Margarita. She remained motionless, trying to remain calm, but in her eyes I read pure panic.
“Madame Margarita,” I continued, “unfortunately I have encountered not only competition, but also corruption, abuse, and disrespect for others.”
The silence deepened.
“From this moment on, our collaboration is over. You can gather your things and leave.”
She froze, barely murmuring:
“You… you deceived me…”
“No,” I replied coldly. “You deceived yourself into believing that human dignity could be trampled on without consequences.”
That night, as I told Andrea everything, I saw him fall silent. There were tears in his eyes, but not for me: they were for his mother. However, I already knew one thing for sure: my experiment was over. My real life, with my decisions and my strength, had just begun.
