“Clear out the flatIm getting married, and well be living here,” declared my husbands daughter from his first marriage.
“Mrs. Harrison, you forgot to sign your holiday request form. HR need it by lunch,” said a young colleague.
Emily looked up from her computer and smiled. “Thanks, Lucy. Ill pop over now.”
She set her work aside and headed to HR, thinking about her upcoming break. She fancied a seaside trip, but David, her husband, insisted on staying at their cottage. Why waste money, he argued, when they could relax in nature for free? Emily didnt argue. After eight years of marriage, shed learned to pick her battles.
Back at her desk, she noticed several missed calls from David. Oddhe never rang during work hours. She called back.
“Em, can you come home early?” His voice was tense.
“Has something happened?”
“Sophies here. Says she needs to talk to us.”
Sophie was Davids daughter from his first marriage. Twenty-seven, living in another city, she only turned up when she needed something.
“Alright, Ill try to be back by six.”
Emily left work early and drove home. The three-bedroom flat in a quiet suburb had been inherited from her parents. When she married David, she hadnt even considered a prenup. Shed loved and trusted him.
Keys in hand, she heard voices in the living room. Sophie was talking animatedly, David nodding along. Emily slipped off her heels and walked in.
Sophie sat on the sofa in a sharp dress, a well-dressed young man beside her. An open bottle of champagne sat on the table.
“Oh, Emily, finally,” Sophie said, eyeing her. “This is James, my fiancé.”
“Nice to meet you,” Emily shook his hand.
“Sit down,” David gestured to a chair. “Sophie has something important to discuss.”
Emily sat, tensing. Something felt off.
“Clear out the flatIm getting married, and well be living here,” Sophie announced bluntly.
Emily blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. James and I need a place, and thisll do nicely.”
“Sophie, this is Emilys flat,” David said weakly.
“Dad, youve been on the lease eight years. Legally, youve got a claim. And Im your only childyour heir.”
Emilys face went cold. “David, whats going on?”
He wouldnt meet her eyes. “Em, Sophies got a point. Maybe we should talk”
“Talk about what? This is my home. My parents bought it. I grew up here.”
“But Dad has rights,” Sophie pulled papers from her bag. “I checked with a solicitor. Eight years, joint accountsa court could grant him half.”
“Are you mad?” Emily turned to David. “Say something!”
“Em, lets stay calm. Sophies young, she needs stability. We could downsize”
Emily stared. The man shed trusted for eight years was calmly discussing kicking her out.
“Mr. Harrison, its a reasonable solution,” James cut in. “A young couple needs space. Two people dont need three bedrooms.”
“And who are you to decide what we need?”
“Im Sophies fiancé. Practically family.”
“Youre no family of mine.”
“Emily, dont be rude,” Sophie snapped. “James father owns a construction firm.”
“Lovely. He can buy you a flat, then.”
“Why buy when we can have this?” Sophie shrugged. “Dad, you want me happy, dont you?”
“Of course, love.”
“Then talk sense into her. This is your home too.”
Emily pulled out her phone.
“What are you doing?” David asked.
“Calling my solicitor. And I suggest you all leave.”
“Em, dont” He reached for her, but she stepped back.
“Mr. Whitmore? Emily Harrison. I need urgent advice. Tomorrow morning? Thanks.”
She hung up. “Now, get out. I need to think.”
“This is my home too,” David protested.
“No. Its mine. Youre just on the leaseby my goodwill.”
“Dad has every right to be here,” Sophie stood. “And so do I, as his guest.”
“Sophie, leave. Or Ill call the police.”
“How dare you!” Sophie hissed. “Dad, are you just going to take this?”
David looked between them, lost.
“Em, please”
“Nothing to discuss. Im staying with a friend. When I return, I expect her gone.”
Emily grabbed her bag and left. Her hands shook in the lift. Eight years. Eight years, and hed sell her out for his daughters whims.
Her friend Sarah lived nearby. One look at Emilys face, and she knew. “Come in. Talk.”
Over tea, Emily explained. Sarah shook her head.
“I told you to get a prenup. But nolove and trust.”
“Not now, Sarah.”
“Fine. Whats next?”
“Solicitor tomorrow. Then divorce.”
Sarah raised a brow. “Wheres he going to live?”
“His problem. Maybe Sophiell take him.”
Her phone rang. David. She declined.
“Not talking?”
“No. He made his choice.”
She stayed the night. Next morning, straight to the solicitor. Mr. Whitmore, a silver-haired man with sharp eyes, listened.
“Mrs. Harrison, relax. The flat was yours before marriage?”
“Yes. Inherited two years before we met.”
“Then its yours. He has no claim.”
“But the lease”
“Means nothing. At most, he gets time to find a place if you divorce. A month or two.”
“And Sophies nonsense about shares?”
“Rubbish. Marital assets are post-wedding purchases. Your flat isnt one.”
Emily exhaled. “So they cant take it?”
“Never. If they push, report them. Its extortion.”
Back at work, David called repeatedly. She ignored him. Needed space to think.
That evening, she returned home. David sat at the kitchen table, tea in hand. No Sophie.
“Em, finally. I was worried.”
“Wheres Sophie?”
“Gone to James. Em, lets talk.”
“About what? How you sat silent while she demanded my home?”
“I was shocked. Never expected that from her.”
“Really? She had legal papers ready. This was planned.”
“I didnt know, I swear.”
Emily studied him. The lively man shed married had aged into thisweak, tired.
“David, be honest. Did you even consider standing by me? Or was she always first?”
He stared at his tea.
“Em, shes my daughter. My only child.”
“And Im your wife. Eight years.”
“You matter. But Sophie”
“Got it.” Emily stood. “Im filing for divorce.”
“Em, wait”
“No. The flats mine. Youve got a month to leave.”
“Pleasewe can fix this.”
“Fix what? She marched in, demanded my home, and you backed her. Whats left to fix?”
Her phone rang. Unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Harrison? Margaret SpencerJames mother. I wanted to apologise for yesterday. He told me everything. Disgraceful.”
Emily paused. “Thank you, but”
“Could we meet? We need to talk about Sophie.”
“Why?”
“Please. Its important. Café tomorrow?”
Curious, Emily agreed. Next day, an elegant woman in her sixties waited.
“Thank you for coming,” Margaret said. “Coffees ordered.”
“Whats this about?”
“My sons smitten. First serious relationship. And Sophie shes manipulating him.”
“How?”
“She claims shes pregnant. Demands a quick wedding. When James asked for time, she said she had a flat ready.”
“My flat.”
“Exactly. I looked into her. No job, floats between men. A gold-digger.”
“And your plan?”
“We work together. You keep your flat. Ill wake James up.”
“The pregnancy?”
“Doubt its real. If it is, DNA tests exist.”
Emily considered. A strange twist.
“Alright. What do I do?”
“Just hold firm. Ill handle my end.”
Back home, Sophie was there, flipping through papers.
“What are you doing?”
“Dad gave me keys. Checking out my new place.”
“Sophie, get out.”
“Make me. Dad said I could stay.”
Emily dialled. “Police? Theres an intruder in my flat refusing to leave.”
Sophie paled. “You wouldnt.”
“Try me.”
Sophie stormed out. Emily cancelled the call, exhausted. The betrayal, the fightit drained her.
That evening, David packed a bag.
“Staying with a mate,” he muttered.
“Fine.”
“Youre really divorcing me?”
“Yes.”
“Shame. We couldve”
“No. You chose her over us. Theres no us anymore.”
He left. The flat felt empty but peaceful. For the first time in days, she breathed easy.
A week later, Margaret called.
“Mrs. Harrison, news. Sophies not pregnant. James insisted on a test.”
“Not surprised.”
“Theyve split. James is in Belgium for work. Sophies already found another target.”
“Quick work.”
“They never linger. Take care.”
The divorce was swift. David didnt fight it, only apologised. Emily forgave but didnt look back.
A month later, a new colleague joinedThomas, a soft-spoken programmer from Manchester. He helped her with a computer issue, then asked her for coffee.
“Married?” he asked outright.
“Was. Recently divorced.”
“If I maywhy?”
Emily smirked. “Long story. Lets just say we wanted different things.”
“Understandable. I divorced five years ago.”
They started seeing each otherwalks, films, talks. Thomas was witty, well-read, kind.
One afternoon, strolling through the park, they ran into David and Sophie. Her ex-husband stiffened; Sophie glared.
“Hello, Emily.”
“David. This is Thomas.”
The men shook hands. Sophie tugged Davids sleeve. “Dad, lets go.”
They left. Thomas squeezed her hand.
“Ex-husband?”
“Yes.”
“And the daughter who wanted your flat?”
Emily blinked. “Howd you know?”
“Sarah mentioned it. We work in the same department.”
“Ah. She does love a gossip.”
“She speaks highly of you. Said you did the right thing.”
“I hope so.”
Thomas smiled. “Im glad you divorced.”
“Why?”
“Or wed never have met.”
Emily laughed. Life had a funny way of turning disasters into blessings.
That night, she looked at old photos of David. Eight yearssome good times. But when tested, hed failed. She hadnt.
Her phone buzzed. Thomas: “Today was lovely. See you tomorrow?”
She typed back: “Absolutely.”
Life went on.
