“Clear out the flatIm getting married, and were moving in,” declared her husbands daughter from his first marriage.
“Mrs. Harrison, you forgot to sign your leave request. HR needs it by lunch,” her young colleague reminded her.
Emily Harrison glanced up from her computer and smiled. “Thanks, Sophie. Ill go now.”
She set her work aside and headed to HR, already thinking about her upcoming holiday. Shed hoped for a seaside getaway, but David, her husband, insisted they save money and stay at their cottage. After eight years of marriage, shed learned to pick her battles.
Back at her desk, she noticed several missed calls from David. Oddhe rarely phoned during work hours. She called back.
“Em, can you come home early?” His voice was tense.
“Why? Whats happened?”
“Lucys here. Says she needs to talk.”
Lucy, Davids daughter from his first marriage. Twenty-seven, lived out of town, and only appeared when she needed something.
“Ill try to be back by six.”
Emily left work early and headed home. The three-bedroom flat in a quiet suburb had been left to her by her parents. When she married David, she hadnt thought about prenups or legalities. Shed loved and trusted him.
As she unlocked the door, she heard voices in the living room. Lucy was talking animatedly, David murmuring in agreement. Emily kicked off her heels and walked in.
Lucy sat on the sofa in an expensive dress, a well-dressed young man beside her. A bottle of champagne sat open on the table.
“Ah, Emily, finally.” Lucy gave her a once-over. “Meet James, my fiancé.”
“Pleasure,” Emily said, shaking his hand.
“Sit,” David gestured to the armchair. “Lucy has something to discuss.”
Emily sat, unease creeping in. Something was off.
“Clear out the flatIm getting married, and were moving in,” Lucy announced bluntly.
Emily stared, certain shed misheard. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. James and I need somewhere to live.”
“This is *my* flat,” Emily said slowly.
“Dads been on the lease for eight years. Legally, he has a claim. And as his only child, that passes to me.”
Emilys face went cold. “David, what is this?”
He wouldnt meet her eyes, fiddling with a napkin. “Em, Lucys got a point. Maybe we should talk”
“Talk *about what*?” Emily stood. “This is *my* home. My parents bought it. I grew up here.”
“But Dad has rights,” Lucy pulled out papers. “Ive spoken to a solicitor. Eight years of cohabitation, shared billshe could claim half.”
“Are you *mad*?” Emily turned to David. “Say something!”
“Em, lets be reasonable. Lucys starting her life. We could rent somewhere smaller.”
Emily couldnt believe it. The man shed trusted for eight years was calmly discussing evicting her.
“Mr. Harrison, its a sensible solution,” James cut in. “Young couples need space. You two dont need three bedrooms.”
“And who are *you* to decide what we need?” Emily kept her voice steady, though her hands shook.
“Ill soon be family.”
“Youre *nothing* to me.”
“Dont be rude, Emily,” Lucy snapped. “Jamess father owns a property firm.”
“So? Let *him* buy you a flat.”
“Why buy when we can have this?” Lucy shrugged. “Dad, you *do* want me happy?”
“Of course, love.”
“Then convince her. This is your home too.”
Emily pulled out her phone.
“What are you doing?” David asked sharply.
“Calling *my* solicitor. And I suggest you all leave.”
“Em, dont be like this” He reached for her, but she stepped back.
“Mr. Whitmore? Emily Harrison. I need urgent advice. Tomorrow morning? Thank you.”
She hung up, facing them. “Now, please go. I need to think.”
“This is *my* home too,” David protested.
“No. Its *mine*. Youre just on the lease. By *my* kindness.”
“Dad has every right to be here,” Lucy stood. “And so do I, as his guest.”
“Lucy, *leave*. Or Ill call the police.”
“How *dare* you!” Lucy hissed. “Dad, youre just going to take this?”
David glanced between them, lost.
“Emily, please”
“Theres nothing to discuss. Im staying with a friend. When I return, I expect your daughter *gone*.”
Emily grabbed her bag and left. Her hands trembled as she called the lift. *Eight years*. Eight years of trust, and hed betray her for his spoiled daughter.
Her friend Sarah lived nearby. One look at Emilys face, and she knew. “Come in. Talk.”
Over tea, Emily explained. Sarah listened, shaking her head.
“I *told* you to get a prenup. But no*love, trust*.”
“Not now, Sarah.”
“Fine. Whats the plan?”
“Solicitor tomorrow. Then well see.”
“And David?”
Emily hesitated. Could she stay with a man whod chosen his daughter over her?
“Dunno. Probably divorce.”
“Wherell he go? Hes got no place of his own.”
“His problem. He can live with *her*.”
Her phone rang. David. She declined.
“Not talking?”
“No. His choice is clear.”
She stayed at Sarahs that night. In the morning, she went straight to the solicitor. Mr. Whitmore, a silver-haired man with sharp eyes, listened carefully.
“Mrs. Harrison, dont worry. The flat was yours before marriage?”
“Yes. Inherited two years before we met.”
“Then its yours. David has no claim.”
“But the lease”
“That doesnt grant ownership. At most, he gets time to find a place if you divorcea month or two.”
“And Lucy mentioned shared finances, a stake”
“Nonsense. Marital assets are whats acquired *during* marriage. Your flat isnt included.”
Emily exhaled. “So they cant take it?”
“Absolutely not. If they pressure you, report it. This is harassment.”
After the meeting, Emily went to work. David called repeatedly. She ignored him. She needed space to think.
That evening, she returned home. David sat at the kitchen table, nursing tea. Lucy, thankfully, was gone.
“Em, finally. I was worried.”
“Wheres Lucy?”
“With James. Em, lets talk.”
“About *what*? How you sat silent while she demanded *my* home?”
“I was shocked. I never expected this.”
“Really? She *consulted a solicitor*. This was planned.”
“I didnt know, I swear.”
Emily studied him. He looked older, tired. When theyd met, hed been lively, attentive. Routine had dulled that.
“David, be honest. Did you *ever* consider siding with me? Or was it always her?”
He stared into his tea.
“Em, shes my daughter. My only child.”
“And Im *what*? Eight years together.”
“You matter. But Lucy”
“Got it.” Emily stood. “Im filing for divorce.”
“Em, wait!”
“No. Ive seen the solicitor. The flats mine. Youve got a month to move out.”
“Em, please”
“*No*. Your daughter marched into *my* home and demanded I leave. And you said *nothing*. Whats left to fix?”
Her phone rang. Unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Harrison? Its Margaret WhitmoreJamess mother.”
“Yes?”
“I wanted to apologise for yesterday. James told me. Its disgraceful.”
Emily blinked. “Thank you, but”
“Id like to meet. We should talk about Lucy.”
“Why?”
“Please. Its important. Café tomorrow?”
Curious, Emily agreed. The next day, an elegant woman in her sixties waited at a quiet café.
“Thank you for coming,” Margaret gestured to a seat. “Coffees ordered.”
“Whats this about?”
“My sons in lovefirst time, seriously. And this Lucy… shes manipulating him.”
“How?”
“She claims shes pregnant. Demands a quick wedding. When James asked for time, she said she *had* a flat.”
“*My* flat.”
“Exactly. Mrs. Harrison, Ive looked into her. No job, hops between men. A gold-digger.”
“What do you propose?”
“We work together. You keep your flat; Ill wake James up.”
“The pregnancy?”
“Doubt its real. But if so, a paternity test will sort it.”
Emily considered. A strange twist.
“Alright. What do I do?”
“Just hold firm. Ill handle the rest.”
At home, she found Lucy in the living room, flipping through papers.
“What are you doing here?”
“Dad gave me keys. Checking *my* future home.”
“Lucy, *leave*.”
“Wont. Dad said I could stay.”
Emily dialled 999.
“Police? Theres an intruder in my flat refusing to leave.”
Lucy paled. “Youre *joking*.”
“Try me.”
“Im your *husbands daughter*!”
“Soon-to-be *ex*-husband. Waiting for the police?”
Lucy stormed out, slamming the door. Emily cancelled the call, sinking onto the sofa. Exhausted. Betrayal, fightsit was too much.
That evening, David packed a bag.
“Em, Ill stay with a mate.”
“Fine.”
“Youre really divorcing me?”
“Yes.”
“Shame. We couldve”
“No. You chose Lucy over us. Theres no coming back.”
He left. The flat was quiet, emptybut peaceful. For the first time in days, she breathed easy.
A week later, Margaret called.
“Mrs. Harrison, news. Lucy isnt pregnant. James insisted on a test.”
“No surprise.”
“Theyve split. James is in Brussels for work. Lucys already found another man.”
“Quick.”
“Women like her dont linger. Take care.”
The divorce was swift. David didnt contest it, only apologised. She forgavebut there was no going back.
A month later, a new colleague joined her office. Thomas, a programmer from Manchester. Tall, kind-eyed, soft-spoken. He helped her with a computer glitch, then asked her for coffee.
“Married?” he asked bluntly.
“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 othercasually. Walks, films, conversations. Thomas was thoughtful, well-read, witty.
One evening, strolling through the park, they ran into David and Lucy. Her ex-husband flinched; Lucy glared.
“Emily.”
“David.”
“Youre… well?”
“Very. This is Thomas.”
The men shook hands. Lucy tugged Davids sleeve.
“Dad, *come on*.”
They left. Thomas raised a brow.
“Ex?”
“Yep.”
“And the daughter who wanted your flat?”
Emily blinked. “Howd you know?”
“Sarah. We work together.”
“Ah. She does gossip.”
“Speaks highly of you. Says you did the right thing.”
“Hope so.”
Thomas took her hand.
“Glad youre divorced.”
“Why?”
“Otherwise, we wouldnt have met.”
