«Clear out the flatI’m getting married, and we’ll be living here,» declared her husband’s daughter from his first marriage.
«Margaret, you forgot to sign your holiday request form. HR needs it by noon,» her colleague Emma reminded her.
Margaret looked up from her computer and smiled. «Thanks, Emma. I’ll pop over now.»
She set her work aside and headed to HR, thinking about her upcoming break. She fancied a seaside trip, but her husband, Richard, insisted on staying at their countryside cottage. Why waste money when they could relax for free, hed argue. Margaret never pushed backafter eight years of marriage, shed learned to let the small things slide.
Back at her desk, she noticed several missed calls from Richard. Oddhe never rang during work hours. She called back.
«Margaret, can you come home early today?» His voice was tense.
«Has something happened?»
«Victorias here. Says she needs to talk to us.»
VictoriaRichards daughter from his first marriage. Twenty-seven, lived in another city, rarely visited. Usually only when she needed money.
«Alright, Ill try to be back by six.»
She left work early and made her way home. The three-bedroom flat in a quiet suburb had been her parentspassed down to her. When she married Richard, she hadnt even considered a prenup. Shed loved and trusted him.
As she unlocked the door, she heard voices in the living room. Victoria was chatting animatedly, Richard chiming in. Margaret slipped off her shoes and walked in.
Victoria sat on the sofa in a smart dress, a well-dressed young man beside her. A bottle of champagne sat open on the table.
«Ah, Margaret, finally,» Victoria said, eyeing her. «Meet Daniel, my fiancé.»
«Pleasure,» Margaret said, shaking his hand.
«Sit down,» Richard gestured to the armchair. «Victoria has something important to discuss.»
Margaret sat, her guard up. Something felt off.
«Clear out the flatIm getting married, and well be living here,» Victoria announced bluntly.
Margaret stared, stunned. «…What did you just say?»
«You heard me. Daniel and I need somewhere to live after the wedding.»
«Victoria, this is Margarets flat,» Richard said weakly.
«Dad, youve been registered here for eight years. Legally, youve got a claim. And Im your only childyour heir.»
Margarets face drained of colour. «Richard, what is going on?»
Her husband wouldnt meet her eyes, fiddling with a napkin. «Margaret, love, Victorias got a point. Maybe we should talk»
«Talk about *what*?» Margaret stood. «This is *my* flat. My parents bought it. I grew up here.»
«But Dads got rights,» Victoria pulled papers from her bag. «Ive spoken to a solicitor. Eight years of cohabitation, shared billshe could claim half.»
«Are you *mad*?» Margaret turned to Richard. «Say something!»
«Margaret, lets stay calm. Victorias young, shes starting her life. We could downsize»
She couldnt believe her ears. The man shed trusted for eight years was calmly discussing throwing her out of her own home.
«Richard, this is *your* decision too?» Daniel cut in. «A young couple needs space. You two dont need three bedrooms.»
«Excuse me, who are *you* to decide what we need?» Margaret kept her voice steady, though she was seething.
«Im Victorias fiancé. That makes me family.»
«Youre *no* family of mine.»
«Margaret, dont be rude,» Victoria snapped. «Daniels family owns a construction firm. Theyre well-off.»
«So? Let his family buy you a flat.»
«Why buy when we can have this one?» Victoria shrugged. «Dad, you *do* want me happy, dont you?»
«Of course, sweetheart.»
«Then talk some sense into her. This is your home too.»
Margaret pulled out her phone.
«What are you doing?» Richard tensed.
«Calling *my* solicitor. And I suggest you all leave.»
«Margaret, dont be like this» He reached for her hand, but she stepped back.
«Michael? Its Margaret Davies. I need urgent legal advice. Tomorrow morning? Perfect.»
She hung up, facing them coldly. «Now, get out. I need to think.»
«This is *my* home too,» Richard insisted.
«No. Its *mine*. Youre only registered hereby *my* goodwill.»
«Dad has every right to be here,» Victoria stood. «And so do I, as his guest.»
«Victoria, leave. Or Ill call the police.»
«You *wouldnt*!»
«Try me.»
Richard wavered between them.
Margaret grabbed her bag and left. Her hands shook as she called the lift. *Eight years*. Eight years of trust, and hed sold her out for his daughters greed.
Her friend Lucy lived nearby. One look at Margarets face, and she knew. «Come in. Talk to me.»
Over wine, Margaret explained. Lucy listened, shaking her head.
«I *told* you to get a prenup. But no*love and trust*.»
«Not now, Lucy.»
«Fine. Whats the plan?»
«Solicitor first. Then… divorce.»
Richard called repeatedly. She ignored him.
That evening, she returned home. Richard sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cuppa. Victoria, thankfully, was gone.
«Margaret, finally. I was worried.»
«Wheres Victoria?»
«Gone to Daniels. Margaret, lets talk.»
«About *what*? How you sat silent while she demanded my flat?»
«I was shocked! I never expected»
«Really? She *consulted a solicitor*, Richard. This wasnt spur-of-the-moment.»
He looked down.
«Tell me honestlydid you even *consider* backing me? Or was it always Victoria first?»
Silence.
«Shes my *daughter*.»
«And Im your *wife*. Was.» She stood. «Im filing for divorce.»
«Margaret, wait»
«No. The flats *mine*. Youve got a month to move out.»
A week later, Daniels mother, Eleanor, called.
«Victorias *not* pregnant. Daniel insisted on a testit was a lie.»
«No surprise.»
«Theyve split. Daniels gone abroad. Victorias already found someone new.»
«Efficient.»
The divorce was quick. Richard didnt contest it, only apologised. She forgavebut there was no going back.
Then came Jamesa new colleague, a quiet, kind-eyed programmer. Over coffee, he asked, «Divorced?»
«Recently. You?»
«Five years ago.»
They took it slowwalks, films, conversation.
Months later, in the park, they bumped into Richard and Victoria.
«Margaret,» Richard mumbled.
«Richard. This is James.»
Victoria glared, tugging her father away.
«Ex?» James asked.
«And the flat-thief?»
«Lucy mentioned it.»
He took her hand. «Glad you divorced.»
«Why?»
«Or wed never have met.»
She smiled. Life had a way of turning disasters into blessings.
That night, she deleted old photos. Eight yearssome good, but when tested, hed failed. She hadnt.
Her phone buzzed. James: *»Today was lovely. Tomorrow?»*
She typed: *»Absolutely.»*
Life went on.
