**A Twist of Fate**
“Mum, for Gods sake!” Emily snapped, irritation sharp in her voice. “Jacobs twenty! Hes a grown manhe should be living on his own by now. But you still coddle him like hes some precious treasure. Its sickening.”
“Sickening? Then dont look,” Margaret shot back, her tone clipped. “Focus on your own life, not ours. Youve got Oliver to raise.”
“I *am* raising him!”
“Poorly,” Margaret cut in. “That boys running wild.”
“He is *not*! Hes just at that age!” Emilys face flushed with anger. “As if Jacob was some perfect little angel as a teen.”
“Not an angel,” Margaret narrowed her eyes, “but he studied hard, helped around the house, never backtalked. Oliver? All he does is badger us for money. Doesnt even say thank you.”
“So what? Youre his grandmother!”
“And that means manners dont matter? You just take and take? Though I shouldnt be surprisedhes just like you.”
“Whats *that* supposed to mean?!” Emilys voice rose.
“That Ive never heard a kind word from you. Just complaints and blame.”
“Mum!”
“What, *Mum*? Am I wrong? Youre raising that boy to be just as selfish. Everyone owes him something. Even Jacobs not spared*Oh, dont you see I need a new laptop?* Ive put up with it, but mark my words: my patience wont last.”
“And then what?” Emilys eyes flashed with anger.
“Ill cut him off. Not another penny. And Ill tell Jacob to do the same.”
“Oh, *terrifying*,” Emily scoffed. “I expected something worse.”
“I dont need to *invent* anything,” Margaret said coldly. “Hes my grandsonI love him. But I wont tolerate his cheek. Ill put him in his place so hard hell forget the way here.”
“And how will your precious Jake live without his darling nephew?”
“*My* Jake?” Margaret whirled around, fixing Emily with a hard stare.
“Well*ours*,” Emily faltered. “Whats the difference? He adores him.”
Silence thickened the air. Margaret bit back the words clawing at her throat.
The door creaked open, and Jacob walked intall, lean, his hair slightly ruffled. He looked exhausted as his gaze flicked between his mother and sister.
“Again?” he muttered. “Will you two ever stop?”
“Stay out of it,” Emily snapped. “This isnt about you!”
“Not about me, but youre shouting at Mum. And I *will* step in. Who else will defend her?”
“*Defend* her?” Emilys lips twisted. “Your only *right* is to live off her and pretend everythings fine.”
“*I* live off her?” Jacob stepped closer, voice taut with fury. “I work. I help around the house. I dont start fights. *You* swan in and turn this place into a circus.”
“Mum cant see youre turning into a freeloader!” Emilys voice cracked. “She spoils you rotten! Everythings for you!”
“*Emily!*” Margaret cut in sharply. “Enough. Youre being unfair.”
“*Unfair*?” Emilys head jerked up, bitterness dripping from her words. “Ive never had half of what he gets! All the care, all the loveits *all* for him! And me? Scraps!”
“Whats this got to do with me?” Jacob asked quietly, stunned. “Youre the one with the grudges, the imaginary slights Maybe thats why everyone avoids you?”
“Oh, *really*?” Emilys eyes blazed. “Now its *my* fault?”
Jacob opened his mouth, ready to retaliate, but Margaret stepped between them.
“Dont you dare. Emilys your older sister. You *will* respect her.”
“She doesnt respect *anyone*!” Jacob shot back. “She storms in, picks fights, insults everyone. Mum, its time someone put her in her placeand Oliver too. Last week, he took fifty quid from my wallet without asking.”
The room went deadly still. Jacobs words hung like a thunderclap.
Emilys cheeks burned, her breath coming fast. Something raw and desperate flickered in her eyesmore than anger. More than hurt.
Margaret braced herself. One more second, and Emily would snap, say something irreversible.
But what came out was different.
“Youre *lying*! Oliver would *never* do that! Hes *my* sonhes *not* a thief!”
“Emily” Margarets voice was quiet but firm. “I trust Jacob. He doesnt lie. But Oliver? Ive had my doubts. You need to talk to him. Gently.”
“Dont you *dare* accuse my boy of stealing!” Emily spat, trembling.
“Then dont accuse *mine* of lying,” Margaret countered.
“*Yours*?” Emilys eyes flashed. “*Your* son? What son?!” Her voice broke. “Hes *not* yours!”
Margaret froze.
“What?” Jacob stiffened. “Mum what is she saying?”
“Shes telling the truth,” Margaret whispered, pale. “Im not your mother.”
For a heartbeat, Jacob stood motionless, the words ringing in his skull.
Emily collapsed onto the sofa, gasping. She couldnt believe what shed just done.
Memories crashed over hercold, relentless.
Shed been young. Just out of school.
Head over heels in love.
She hadnt realised she was pregnant at first. By the time she did, it was too late to *fix* things.
The bloke had just shrugged.
“*You* sure its mine?”
Shed told her parents. Mum had screamed, cried. Dadstill alive thenhad threatened to throw her out for shaming them.
But the storm passed. Theyd softened. Supported her through the pregnancy.
Emily had given birth to a son. His grandparents doted on him.
Then Dad died. Money grew tight. Emily left for London to workMargaret agreed to look after Jacob.
The first year, she visited, sent money.
Then she vanished.
A new man. A new life. A second sonone Margaret and Jacob knew nothing about for years.
Even her new bloke didnt know Jacob existed.
Then *he* kicked her out. She came home, Oliver in tow.
Jacob was ten by then. Oliver, five. Margaret forgave herbut refused to let them stay. She saw the truth: Emily felt nothing for Jacob. How could she? The last time shed seen him, he was two. Hed called Margaret *Mum* for years.
So shed proposed the lie: Emily would be his sister, returned from afar.
***
Jacobs quiet question dragged Emily back.
“Then who *is* my mother?”
Emily shuddered. She couldnt say it.
Her hands shook. Tears fell.
“J-Jake” she choked out, but the rest died in her throat.
Margaret stepped in.
“Sweetheart, dont panic. The truth is Emilys your mother.”
Jacob went utterly still.
His eyes locked onto Emilyhuddled on the sofa, weeping.
A wave of revulsion hit him.
He exhaled sharply.
“So youre” He turned to Margaret. “My *grandmother*? Or are you not even related?”
“Dont be ridiculous!” Emily burst out. “Of course were family! Mother and daughter. And Oliverhes your *brother*!”
Jacob laugheda hollow, bitter sound.
“Lucky me.”
The hatred in his stare made Emily flinch.
“Right. I get it,” he said, icy. “I need air.”
He left.
The door clicked shut. The flat drowned in silence.
***
Emily sat frozen, her face streaked with tears. Her heart pounded wildly.
“What have I *done*?” she whispered. “Ive got my son backand now Ive lost him. Hell *hate* me. And Oliver? How do I explain Jacobs his *brother*? He wont understand. Wont forgive Mum, why didnt you *stop* me?”
Margaret stood beside her. She knew: Emily was mourning the fantasy shed clung to. Scolding her now was pointless. Shed *wanted* the truth out.
She just hadnt thought beyond that.
Margaret sat beside her, squeezing her hand.
“Itll be alright, love. Jacobs a good lad. Hell come round.”
“What
