Im standing outside my own house in Manchester, holding a key that doesnt fit the new lock, feeling my heart shatter into pieces. The marriage I fought so hard to save has fallen apart in an instant. But my cheating husband and his mistress have no idea whats cominga lesson theyll never forget.
James, its almost ten, my voice trembled when I called him the night before. You promised youd be home by seven.
He tossed his keys onto the side table without even looking at me.
Work, Lucy. What do you want me to tell my boss? That I need to rush home to my wife? His tone dripped with irritation, like I was some kind of nuisance.
I swallowed hard, staring at the table Id set for a simple birthday dinner. Two candles flickered beside the cake Id bought on my lunch break.
Yes, James. Thats exactly what you couldve done. Just once, I crossed my arms, holding back tears. Todays my birthday.
Finally, he glanced at the table. His face twisted when he realised.
Bloody hell, Lucy, I forgot, he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
Obviously, I replied coldly, the hurt swallowing me whole.
Dont start, he snapped. Im working for us, you know that.
I gave him a bitter smile.
For us? I shot back. Youre barely ever home, James. When was the last time we had dinner together? Watched a film? Actually talked like husband and wife?
Thats not fair, he frowned. Im building a career so we have a future.
What future? We live like strangers under the same roof! My voice cracked. I earn more than you, so dont hide behind providing for the family.
His face hardened.
Right, there it is, he said sarcastically. How am I supposed to keep up with my successful wife?
Thats not what I meant
Enough, Lucy. Im going to bed, he cut me off and walked away, leaving me alone with the cold cake and burnt-out candles.
I blew them out, whispering to myself that things would get better. Hes my husband. I love him. All marriages hit rough patches, dont they?
How wrong I was to forgive him so easily.
Wed been married three years, but the last one felt like a slow, painful unraveling. No kidsthank God for that. My job as a marketing director brought in most of our income, while James, a sales exec, constantly complained about stress, long hours, traffic everything except the truth, which I found out too late.
Three weeks after my ruined birthday, I came home early with a pounding headachejust wanted painkillers and bed. But when I got to our house on the outskirts of Manchester, something felt off. The doorknob and lock, once brass, now gleamed with new silver metal.
What? I muttered, sliding my key in. It wouldnt turn.
I tried again. Nothing. I double-checked the address. Definitely my house.
Then I spotted a note taped to the door. Jamess familiar handwriting hit me like a punch: *This isnt your home anymore. Find somewhere else.*
The world spun. My blood turned to ice.
Youve got to be kidding me, I hissed.
I banged on the door, screaming his name. Finally, it swung open. James stood there, and behind hima woman wearing my cashmere dressing gown, a gift from my mum.
Seriously? My voice shook with rage.
Lucy, listen, he crossed his arms, smirking. Ive moved on. Anna and I are together now. We need this place. Go stay with someone.
*Anna.* The same just a work friend hed been talking about for months. She stepped forward, hands on hips, glaring.
Your stuffs in boxes in the garage. Take it and leave.
I stared at them, stunned. Then I turned and walked to my car, fury boiling inside me. They thought they could throw me out like rubbish and get away with it. But I wasnt done. I needed a plansomething ruthless.
I knew exactly who to call.
Lucy? Oh my God, whats wrong? My sister Emily pulled me into her flat, taking in my tear-streaked face. What happened?
I collapsed onto her sofa, the story pouring out between sobs.
What a wanker! Emily hissed when I finished. And that Anna had the nerve to wear your dressing gown?
Mums birthday gift, I sniffed. The cashmere one from last year.
Emily marched to the kitchen and came back with two glasses of wine.
Drink, she ordered. Then well figure out how to ruin them.
What can I do? I took a sip. The house is in Jamess name. The mortgage was under his credit because mine was still recovering from my masters.
Emily narrowed her eyes.
And who paid for everything else?
Both of us, but I paused, realising. I bought everything. The furniture, appliances, even the bathroom renovation last year. All in my name.
Exactly! She grinned. Whats James got? An empty house.
I opened my banking app, scrolling through transactions.
Ive got every receipt. I always handled the bills.
Of course you did, Miss Organised, she laughed.
For the first time that horrible day, I felt in control again.
They think theyve won, dont they? I whispered.
Emily clinked her glass against mine.
Theyve no idea who theyre dealing with.
The next morning, I called my lawyer friend, Sophie.
What he did is illegal, she said after a sip of coffee. He cant change the locks and kick you out, even if the house is in his name. Youve got rights.
I dont want to go back, I said firmly. But I want whats mine.
Sophie smiled.
Then lets make a list.
We spent the morning cataloguing everything Id bought for the housethe sofa, TV, fridge, even the rugs. By noon, I had a detailed list with receipts, dates, and amounts.
Impressive, Sophie nodded. With this, no one can argue its not yours.
So I can take it all?
Legally, yes. But take a police escort to avoid trespassing claims.
I remembered Jamess smug smirk. Anna in my dressing gown. Their arrogance.
No, I said slowly. Ive got a better idea.
That same day, I called a removal company. The owner, Dave, listened to my story and nodded.
Had a similar case last year, he said.
The next morning, while James and Anna were out for coffee, the movers went in with my old key and took everythingevery last fork Id bought with my salary, leaving the house so empty even the echoes got lost.
