Margaret Peterson lunged for the envelope so sharply that everyone flinched, and teaspoons clattered against plates. Her nails, painted a glossy red, nearly tore into the paper. But the solicitor firmly placed his hand over hers.
Im sorry, madam, he said coolly. This does not belong to you.
The parlour fell silent. The only sounds were the ticking of the clock and children laughing outside. Oliver hunched in his chair as if trying to vanish; his new wife watched with tense curiosity but didnt grasp the gravity of the situation.
I remained still. Ten years ago, I would have trembled, begged not to be humiliated. Now I knewthey had no power over me anymore.
The solicitor tore open the envelope and drew out several pages. The first bore the signature of my late father-in-law, William Thompson. The solicitors voice was sharp.
The will was drafted three months before his passing. The sole inheritor Emily Williamson.
The relatives erupted in murmurs. The aunties exchanged glances, the uncles cleared their throats, and a child giggled, too young to understand.
This is impossible! Margaret Peterson burst out. A lie! He would never have done this!
Everything is clearly stated, the solicitor replied. *All my estate, including the house and land, I leave to my sons former wife, who did not leave the family of her own will but was driven out.* He even included his reasoning.
Oliver groaned. His new wife recoiled, looking at him as if he were a stranger.
I took a deep breath. Id known of this will for some time, but hearing it aloud was entirely different.
So thats it my mother-in-law hissed. He always pitied you! And now you mean to take the house from us?
I stood. My voice was calm but hard as steel.
Im not taking anything. You took it from me ten years ago when you cast me out. But your husband saw the truth. He decided differently.
How dare you! she shrieked. Youre nobody!
Now I own this house, I replied firmly.
Another silence settled over the room. Every eye was fixed on me.
But I continued after a pause, I wont throw you out. I have my own home, my own business. Theres only one thing I want: justice.
Oliver lifted his head, stunned. Then we can stay?
You may stay, I nodded. But the house is legally mine. That means you no longer have the power to humiliate me.
Margaret Peterson seemed broken. Her voice was barely a whisper. You mean to ruin us
I met her gaze evenly. No. I want you to know what it feels like to depend on someone elses kindness.
The solicitor closed the file and stood. All documents are in order. As of today, the legal owner is Emily Williamson.
I gave a brief nod and stepped onto the veranda. The air was crisp outside, the sun just dipping behind the old pear tree. I walked toward the gate with light steps, as if floating.
Rex, the dog, had been gone for years, but I could almost hear his faint whine, just as he used to follow me. Only now, he wasnt trailing a cast-off womanhe was keeping pace with 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.
