**A Treacherous Surprise: The Mother-in-Law’s Secret Plan**
Margaret was still asleep when a sharp knock shattered the quiet of their suburban London flat.
“Thomas, get the door,” she mumbled, nudging her husband.
“I’m sleeping,” he grumbled, pulling the duvet tighter.
Sighing, Margaret wriggled out from under the warm covers, shuffled to the door in her slippers, and froze. Her mother-in-law stood on the threshold.
“Eleanor? What are you doing here?” Margaret’s eyes widened in shock.
Without a word, Eleanor swept past her, leaving a trail of sharp perfume in her wake.
“Meg, who is it?” Thomas rubbed his eyes as he stumbled into the hallway.
“Cat got your tongue? Go on, tell your wife about our little surprise,” Eleanor said, smirking at her son.
“What surprise?” Margaret whirled toward Thomas, her chest tightening with dread. She knew something was being hidden from her—but never imagined the blow that awaited.
“Again?” Margaret’s voice trembled. “We were just at your mum’s last weekend, helping with her errands! I’m exhausted, Tom. Can’t we just have one quiet weekend to ourselves?”
Her pleading gaze met his stubborn silence.
“Meg, you know how hard it’s been for Mum since Dad passed. She’s on her own now. I’m her only son—I can’t abandon her.”
“Why has she come now?” Margaret clenched her fists.
“I mentioned she needed paint—light beige—and a few things for the house.”
“Couldn’t she order online?” Margaret asked hopefully.
“She doesn’t know how. We’ll go Saturday. Might even be a nice change for you.”
“A nice change? At a hardware store?” Margaret scoffed, bitterness bubbling in her chest.
Still, she refused to ruin the weekend. Snatching her phone, she ordered everything herself—paint, supplies, even arranged delivery. Eleanor would have no reason to visit. The delivery was set for Friday evening. Margaret exhaled, certain she’d outsmarted her.
Her shock was absolute when Eleanor barged in Saturday morning, arms laden with paint cans and wallpaper rolls.
“Did you expect me to carry all this alone?” Eleanor’s icy stare pinned Margaret in place. “Thomas, didn’t you tell her?”
“Eleanor, this was supposed to be a surprise,” Margaret stammered, still in her pyjamas.
“Charmed,” Eleanor sneered, turning to Thomas. “Well? Tell your wife about our surprise!”
“What surprise?” Margaret’s voice cracked as she faced her husband. The ground felt unsteady beneath her.
“I’m moving in with you for a few months,” Eleanor announced triumphantly, shrugging off her coat.
Before Margaret could react, the second blow landed:
“And you two—you’re moving to the cottage.”
Eleanor marched to the kitchen while Margaret grabbed Thomas’s arm, hissing, “What is this? We never discussed this!”
“Sorry, forgot to mention,” Thomas shrugged, as if it were nothing. “Mum suggested it. Don’t worry, we’re not leaving tomorrow.”
Margaret stormed to the bedroom, biting back anger. Arguing in front of Eleanor was pointless, but fury simmered inside. Later, Thomas finally explained.
“Meg, think of it as an opportunity. We’ll fix up the cottage just how you like. Great for your portfolio—clients will flock! Mum can’t handle the dust, and someone needs to supervise.”
“And that someone is me?” Margaret choked.
“What’s the problem? You need the work, and we’re looking out for you!”
“Looking out? Banishing me to the middle of nowhere? I love our flat!”
“We’re not leaving yet,” Thomas waved her off. “You’ve ordered the paint—we’ll start with one room for Mum.”
“What about the dust?” Margaret snapped.
“Open a window, she’ll never notice. And anyway, we’re in no position to argue. The flat’s in her name, the cottage is mine.”
“Only because you never claimed your inheritance!” Margaret shot back.
“Stay out of family business!” Thomas cut in. “Mum and I decided. I’m her only heir—it’ll all be ours eventually.”
“If the flat were yours, she wouldn’t be shipping us off! But thanks to your carelessness, we’re stuck in that cottage!”
Eleanor, eavesdropping, burst in.
“Quiet, you!” she barked. “You came into this family with nothing, and now you’re scheming for property?”
“With nothing?” Margaret’s breath hitched.
“Exactly! Without my son, you’d be penniless. And now you dare make demands?”
“I’m being fair,” Margaret held firm. “You’ve cheated Thomas. What if you remarry?”
“Me? Remarry?” Eleanor laughed, momentarily disarmed. “Fine. Fix the cottage, and I’ll sign the flat over to Thomas. But the cottage stays mine. Happy?”
Margaret exhaled in relief. Thomas, though annoyed by the row, forced a smile.
“Still feels wrong, though…” he muttered later in the car.
A week later, they finished the flat’s repairs and moved to the cottage.
“She’s being kind, and we’re—” Thomas fretted.
“We’re taking what’s ours,” Margaret said firmly. “We’ll fix the cottage, and the flat’s ours. Imagine that.”
The cottage greeted them with peeling walls, creaky floors, and a mountain of work. The cost was daunting.
“We’ll take a loan,” Thomas reasoned. “But we’ll get the flat.”
Reluctantly, Margaret agreed. She threw herself into the work, overseeing every detail. Slowly, the cottage transformed—and to her surprise, she fell in love with it.
“We need a flower bed here,” she mused. “Roses, maybe.”
She tackled the garden despite the budget, chatting excitedly each evening.
“And we’ll plant peonies here—I’ve ordered the seedlings.”
“Meg, that’s over budget,” Thomas frowned. “Mum can handle it when she moves back.”
The words stung. She’d poured her heart into this place, and now he spoke of leaving?
“Tom… what if we stayed?” she ventured. “I love it here. The cottage is yours—no need to rearrange anything.”
“But the flat?” he blinked.
“It’s cramped. This is peaceful—fresh air, space!”
“I’ll talk to Mum,” he promised.
Margaret was overjoyed. She decorated, gardened, even started a small vegetable patch. This new life was perfect—until Eleanor returned.
“Hello, Eleanor,” Margaret greeted brightly, eager to show off their progress. “No warning?”
“Why warn when I’m coming to my own home?” Eleanor snapped. “You’ve dragged your feet, so I’ve come to inspect.”
“Your home?” Margaret faltered. “Didn’t Thomas tell you? We’re staying here. It’s his—no paperwork needed.”
Eleanor paled.
“You brazen thief! Stealing my home? I compromised for you, and this is your thanks? Never! I’m staying. Thomas will side with me—pack your bags!”
Margaret was speechless. She’d never realized the cottage mattered to Eleanor, who’d always praised their London flat, scoffing at “backwater” life.
They waited in silence for Thomas, each praying he’d choose her.
He arrived grim-faced.
“What’s happened?” Both women stared, making him fidget.
“The firm went under. I’ve lost my job,” he admitted. “We’ll have to stay here, Meg. The village is cheaper—no fancy shops, just essentials.”
Eleanor said nothing, watching him. Inside, Margaret rejoiced—Thomas had chosen without persuasion. She knew he bent to his mother’s will, but this time, luck was hers.
“Mum, I’m sorry, but this is best for us,” Thomas continued. “Until we’re back on our feet.”
Eleanor, unable to refuse her son in such a state, nodded stiffly. She left without another word. Thomas turned to Margaret, grinning.
“How’d I do?”
“What do you mean?”
“I knew Mum wanted the cottage, but I saw how happy you were here. The job story was a ruse—no way she’d argue when I’m down. Didn’t want a feud over property.”
Margaret hugged him tightly, whispering thanks. They stayed in the cottage—their real home—and no one could take it from them.
**Lesson learned: Sometimes, a little deception spares a lifetime of resentment. And in the end, home isn’t about deeds—it’s where you choose to build your life.**
