Denis

You married not a man, but a huge bank account. Love had nothing to do with it—just the magic of numbers. However, your family life seemed flawless: you bought whatever your heart desired, and Denis, blinded by his adoration for you, didn't even glance at the receipts.

The wedding was celebrated with royal pomp, and Denis entrusted you with everything, just so your elegant, well-groomed finger would shine as he pointed to his latest expensive whim. He pampered you like a capricious, beloved child, and swooned with joy at the delight in your eyes as he saw his new trinket.

And a year later, Zhenya was born - an exact copy of his father, as if he were little Denis in front of you.

The boy was bathed in luxury and given only the best gifts. By the age of five, he had grown up touchingly obedient and incredibly kind: he worshiped all living things, not disdaining even beetles and cockroaches.

Denis, like a caring father, opened the world to him in the evenings, reading books about nature so captivatingly that his son fell completely in love with the fauna. And to listen to these stories without pause, Zhenya mastered the alphabet himself, and you beamed with pride when the little one recited poetry with expression over dinner.

• Zhenya recently found out that the bag you chose as a gift for his grandmother was made from real crocodile skin, and decided to give you a lecture on the sanctity of life.

You were just taking a photo of the accessory to show off to your friends what a perfect son-in-law you were. The boy stood next to you and desperately tugged at the hem of your luxurious robe.

"You can't do that! Don't you know how much that animal suffered for that bag?" His voice rang with righteous anger, and his brows drew together.

You smiled condescendingly and pressed your finger to your lips, ordering him to be quiet.

"Shh, baby..." you drawled, stroking his head. "You can't talk about daddy like that."