“You can think whatever you like about me, but youll never prove a thing,” sneered the mother-in-law, cornering her daughter-in-law with a devilish grin.
“Right then, Emily, listen carefully. Youre welcome to believe whatever nasty little thoughts pop into that head of yours, but without proof, its just hot air. No witnesses, and William trusts me completely. So if you want to stay in this family, youll keep the house tidy, put dinner on the table, and button that lip. Understood?”
Emily had married William a few years back. Soon after, theyd had a son, Oliver, who was now six. Both parents worked hard to keep the family afloat, determined not to let lifes little luxuries slip through their fingers.
They werent rolling in it, but they made do. Emily juggled the housework, parenting, and her job as an accountant at a small firm, while William worked as an engineer. For a while, everything seemed to tick along nicely.
Then Williams mother, Margaret, was diagnosed with coronary heart disease, requiring constant care, medication, and a gentle touch. She had to quit her job, and from that moment on, she relied entirely on her sons support.
Emily did her bestpopping round after work with bags of shopping, whipping up soups and stews. Sometimes shed bring Oliver along because there was no one else to watch him in the evenings. Other times, William would visit his mother himself.
At first, it all seemed normal. But as time went on, the strain began to show. Money vanished faster than evermedications, treatments, special diets. William quietly handed over part of his salary every month, and Emily didnt complain. But soon, she noticed their own needs slipping through the cracks. And William? He acted oblivious.
Oliver needed new shoes. His after-school club raised its fees. The washing machine gave up the ghost. Everything was going pear-shaped. Emilys winter coat had seen better daysfive winters, to be exactbut whenever she mentioned it, William just sighed:
“Hold on a bit longer. Mum comes first right now.”
So she bit her tongue, telling herself health mattered more than a new coat. But the weight in her chest grew heavier each day. How long would this go on? What else would they have to sacrifice?
Then, one half-day before a bank holiday, Emily heard something from Margaret that knocked the wind out of her.
That morning, Emily had been handed an unexpected bonusnothing life-changing, but a nice little sum she hadnt counted on. Shed already pictured the evening: Oliver tucked in bed, a bottle of wine, a cheeseboard, and a rare moment alone with William, just like before the exhaustion and endless errands took over.
Smiling to herself, she stopped by the shopsfresh veg, herbs, milk. “Ill drop these round at Margarets first,” she thought, “then home to set up our little celebration.”
She had a key for emergencies, so she let herself in quietly. A voice drifted from the kitchenprobably the telly, she assumed. But as she got closer, she froze.
Margaret stood by the half-open window, cigarette in hand, blowing smoke outside. Her other hand clutched her phone.
“Course Im milking it,” she cackled into the receiver. “Why wouldnt I? My sons footing the bill, and his little wife waits on me hand and foot. Id be daft to give that up. Cheers, Veronicaowe you one for that doctors note.”
Emilys vision swam. The words hit like a slap. She stumbled back, thudding against the doorframe, and the shopping bag slipped from her fingers. Tomatoes and apples tumbled across the floor.
Margaret spun around.
“Emilywait! I can explain!” she squawked, scrambling after her.
But Emily was already out the door, racing down the stairs without looking back. She barely registered reaching the bus stop.
Wine? Cheese? The evening shed imagined dissolved into nothing. She trudged home, numb, one thought circling her mind: “A whole year. Shes played us for fools. Was she ever even ill?”
Later, once Oliver was asleep, Emily called William into the kitchen. He frownedusually, she was dead on her feet by now, but tonight, something was different.
“William,” she said, “we need to talk.”
“Whats wrong?”
“Its about your mother.”
“Not this again. Were managing fine. You just want too much. Honestly, Ive been thinkingwhy dont you quit your job? Stay home, look after Mum properly”
“Look after her?” Emilys voice cracked. “Do you even know how well shes been this whole time? Or that she might never have been sick at all?”
“What are you on about?”
“Im not making it up. But your mother certainly is. Today, I walked in on her smoking by the window, bragging to some Veronica about a fake doctors note.”
William went still.
“Wait that cant be. Veronicas her old friend. She works at the clinic”
“Exactly.”
He dragged a hand down his face.
“Christ. I trust youwhy would you lie? But Mum how could she?”
“Seems she could,” Emily said flatly. “And you know why weve managed fine? Because my brother James has been sending me money every week. Who did you think paid for Olivers new autumn coat?”
Williams breath hitched. The room tilted.
“Ill go see her tomorrow. Get the truth myself.”
“Good. But dont call ahead.”
“Why not?”
“Give her time to hide the evidence?”
With that, Emily pushed back her chair and walked out.
The next day, William couldnt focus at work. His thoughts churnedEmilys words, his mothers frail act, the mention of Veronica. By lunch, he gave up and drove straight to Margarets.
His key turned in the lock. The flat was spotless as everfresh flowers on the table, no hint of smoke.
In the kitchen, his mother sat slumped, dark circles under her eyes. She barely glanced up.
“Had a dreadful night,” she croaked. “Couldnt keep a bite downfelt like my throat was closing.”
Her voice was pitiful, strained. William hesitated. Was this real? Or another performance?
He scanned the roomnothing out of place. “Maybe Emily misunderstood?”
“Right, Mum. Take your pills, get some rest,” he said, playing along. He put the shopping away, checked her meds.
“Ill pop by tonight.”
Then he fled back to work, as if speed could outrun his thoughts.
The next week, William was a mess. He botched blueprints at work, avoided Emilys searching looks at home. Who to believe? His wife, whod had no reason to lie? Or his mother, who looked every inch the invalidyet too much added up.
Meanwhile, Emily refused to visit Margaret again. The memory of that conversation burned too fresh. And Margaret, seizing the chance, poisoned every call:
“Your Emilys got no heart, abandoning your poor mother! No respect at all!”
William listened in silence, torn between two cliffs, unsure which drop would come first.
But when a work trip took him away for a week, Emily had no choicesomeone had to check on Margaret. Still, she wasnt about to resume the old routine. She bought the essentialsbread, milk, medsand planned only a light tidy.
Margaret greeted her like a cat with cream. Perched at the kitchen table, arms folded, she smirked.
“Well, Emily. Listen close, dear. Think what you likeyoull never prove a thing. No witnesses, and William trusts me. So if you want to keep your place here, youll clean, cook, and keep quiet. Clear?”
Emily clutched the shopping bag, fury rising. But she swallowed it, nodded coolly, and set the bag down.
“Crystal.” Then she turned on her heel.
Margaret chuckled, victory secured. But the second the door shut, Emily pulled out her phone and sent William the recordingshed switched on the voice memo the moment she stepped inside.
That night, in his hotel room, William played the fileand his world crumbled. His mothers voice, sharp as a knife, laid bare every manipulation. No more denials.
He buried his face in his hands. “Mum how could you?”
For the first time, the ground wasnt solid beneath him. His mother wasnt the victim. And the person hed doubtedEmilyhad been honest all along.
He didnt call Margaret. The recording was too much. But he knewthis ended face to face.
Back from his trip, suitcase in hand, William went straight to his mothers.
She flung the door open, beaming.
“William! Home at last!” She threw her arms around him. “Come in, Ill put the kettle on”
He didnt move. “Hold the tea, Mum. We need to talk
