**An Unexpected Guest in the Flat**
Charlotte and James sat at the head of the table, glowing with happiness. Their wedding was in full swing—guests danced, toasts flowed like the Thames. After the celebration, the newlyweds left for a short honeymoon, a gift from Charlotte’s parents. They already had a home: a cosy flat left by Charlotte’s grandmother. Small but theirs, in a nice part of London, freshly renovated—perfect for the two of them. When they returned, suitcases in hand, James slid the key into the lock but froze—the door was bolted from the inside. Someone was in their flat! He shot Charlotte a puzzled glance, rang the bell, and when the door swung open, both stood stunned.
On the threshold stood Edward, James’s father. “Dad?” James blurted. “What are you doing here?” Charlotte, still catching her breath, noticed Edward looked weary, his eyes dim. “Had a row with Margaret,” he sighed. “Mind if I stay the night?” Charlotte hesitated but nodded. “Of course, Edward, come in.” The flat smelled of spaghetti Bolognese—Edward had found ingredients in the freezer and cooked. “Knew you’d be back today,” he added sheepishly.
Charlotte and James had married after a year together. The wedding was lively, and Charlotte already knew James’s family: Edward, his father; Margaret, his stepmother, who’d entered the picture when James was seven; his aunts, Mary and Dorothy; and his two half-sisters, Victoria and Valerie. Both sisters, heavily pregnant, had grumbled during the reception, jealous of the guests’ merriment while they sipped juice quietly. Charlotte stayed polite but sensed the tension—Margaret and her daughters always kept their distance, as if James were a stranger.
Over dinner, Edward explained. Victoria, Margaret’s eldest, had given birth early. The baby was healthy, but her husband had cheated, so she’d moved back in with Margaret, who then demanded Edward pay for a pram and cot, insisting it was his duty. “I’m not the grandfather,” Edward muttered. “Then she threw me out. Took my card while I slept.” Charlotte listened, anger simmering. Margaret had always been domineering, but this was too much.
James frowned. “Dad, did you block the card?” Edward shook his head. “Didn’t think… She’s done it before.” Charlotte exchanged a glance with James. They knew Margaret rented out her own flat but lived in Edward’s house—partly James’s, inherited from his late mother. “She wants your share too,” Edward continued. “Asked you to sign it over.” Charlotte gasped. “What? That’s yours, James!”
The next day, Margaret rang James. “You’re a grown man,” she began. “You’ve moved on—let your wife’s family help you. Leave your share to your father.” James replied coldly, “That’s Mum’s inheritance. I’m keeping it.” Margaret turned vicious. “If you won’t help Victoria or give up the share, I’ll divorce Edward!” James scoffed. “Best thing you could do.”
He confronted Edward later. “Dad, are you happy with her?” Edward hesitated, then admitted, “She uses me. I’m tired.” James proposed a plan: transfer the house to his name entirely. “If Margaret stays, she stays for you. If not—her choice.” Edward agreed, and the papers were signed the next day. Charlotte backed James, though nervous. “What if she causes trouble?” James shrugged. “Let her try.”
When Margaret found out, she stormed in, screeching, “How could you? They tricked you!” Edward stayed calm. “You wanted the house. Now it’s James’s. You’ve got your own. If you don’t want me, leave.” Realising her control was gone, Margaret packed her bags and spat, “You’ll regret this!” But no one did. The divorce was swift—there was nothing to split.
The house stayed James’s, and Edward lived on with him and Charlotte. “This is your home,” Charlotte insisted. Later, when they had children, they took out a mortgage and moved, leaving the old flat to Edward. Margaret tried crawling back, but Edward stood firm. “I’m free at last,” he said one evening over supper, and Charlotte smiled. Their family grew stronger, while Margaret was left with what she’d chosen—empty pride.
*Sometimes, cutting ties is the only way to keep what truly matters.*
