**Diary Entry – 12th June**
The moment Mrs. Galina Hastings lunged for the envelope, everyone flinched, and the spoons clattered against the plates. Her nails, painted a glossy red, nearly tore through the paper. But the solicitor clamped his hand firmly over hers.
“Apologies, madam,” he said coolly. “This does not belong to you.”
The sitting room fell silent. Only the ticking of the grandfather clock and the distant laughter of children outside filled the air. Oliver hunched in his chair as if trying to vanish; his new wife watched with tense curiosity, oblivious to the gravity of the moment.
I didnt move. Ten years ago, I might have trembled, begged not to be humiliated. Now I knewthey had no power over me anymore.
The solicitor ripped open the envelope and pulled out several documents. The first bore my late father-in-laws signature, William Harrison. The solicitors voice was sharp.
“The will was drafted three months before his passing. The sole heir is Margaret Williamson.”
A murmur rippled through the family. The aunts exchanged glances, the uncles cleared their throats, and one child giggled, not understanding.
“This is absurd!” Mrs. Hastings burst out. “A lie! Hed never do this!”
“Everything is clearly stated,” the solicitor continued. *”I leave all my assets, including the house and land, to my sons former wife, who was not willingly cast out but driven from this family.”* He even included his reasoning.
Oliver groaned. His new wife recoiled from him as if he were a stranger.
I drew a deep breath. Id known about the will, but hearing it read aloud was different.
“So thats it,” my mother-in-law hissed. “He always pitied you! And now youll take our home?”
I stood. My voice was steady, hard as steel.
“Im not taking anything. *You* took ten years from me when you threw me out. But your husband saw the truth. And he decided differently.”
“How dare you!” she shrieked. “Youre nobody!”
“Now I own this house,” I answered firmly.
Another hush fell. Every eye fixed on me.
“But,” I continued after a pause, “I wont evict you. I have my own home, my own business. I only want one thingjustice.”
Olivers head snapped up, stunned. “So we can stay?”
“You can,” I nodded. “But legally, this house is mine. That means you can no longer humiliate me.”
Mrs. Hastings seemed to crumple. Her voice shrank to a whisper.
“You mean to ruin us.”
I looked her straight in the eye.
“No. I want you to know what it feels like to depend on someone elses mercy.”
The solicitor shut his folder and rose.
“All documents are in order. As of today, the legal owner is Margaret Williamson.”
I gave a brief nod and stepped onto the porch. The air was crisp, the sun dipping behind the old pear tree. I walked lightly toward the gate, as if floating.
Max, our old dog, had been gone for years, but I almost heard his quiet whinethe way he used to follow me. Only now, he wasnt trailing an outcast. He was following a victor.
I smiled and walked on. Because no one could ever call me “nobody” again. I was myself. And that was enough to reclaim my dignityand my life.
**Lesson learnt:** Justice isnt about vengeance. Its about standing tall and knowing your worth. No one can take that from you.
