**Diary Entry 12th April**
I was halfway to my mother-in-laws with a freshly baked lasagne when my solicitor called. *”Come home NOW,”* she snapped. What I saw that night exposed the darkest sides of the two people closest to me.
I thought my life was stable. As a finance director at a well-paid job, I had the independence Id always dreamed of. My bills were paid, the fridge was full, and I could afford little luxuries here and there. It felt like I had it all under controluntil I learned the truth about my husband, William.
We met eight years ago on a hiking trip organised by mutual friends. He was the kind of man who lit up a room without even trying. I remember his easy grin making everyone laugh, even as we climbed steep hills. By the end of the weekend, I was convinced Id met one of the most fascinating people in my life.
But we didnt start dating straight away.
For two years, we were just friendsexchanging messages, meeting for coffee, sharing bits of our lives. William was always cheerful and interesting, though I noticed his stubborn streak. He insisted everything go his way, whether it was picking a restaurant or weekend plans. I chalked it up to confidence and ignored it. Nobodys perfect, right?
Three years after that hike, William and I married. I thought we were ready for the next step, though our transition from friendship to romance had its bumps.
Yes, he could be pushy, especially about money. He often borrowed small sums, promising to repay me next payday. Honestly, it didnt bother me. I told myself it was part of building a future together.
But marriage revealed another side of Williamone I wasnt prepared for.
Slowly, I realised his mother, Margaret, played an oversized role in his life. She was fiercely protective of him. Often, I felt like I was competing with her for his attention.
And William? He always took her side. It irritated me how he dismissed my concerns as *”overreacting.”*
Once, when I asked why her opinion mattered more than mine, he said, *”Shes my mum, Emily. Shes been there my whole life. I cant just ignore her.”*
His words stung. I didnt expect him to justify himself, but somehow I convinced myself it wasnt a big deal. Family is complicated, isnt it?
I brushed it off, hoping things would improve. I thought William would grow out of prioritising his mother and learn to balance his loyalties.
But the cracks only widened.
Looking back, I shouldve seen the warning signs. William loved luxury but never seemed to spend his own money on it. Early on, he often *”borrowed”* from me with stories about investments or *”special gifts”* for Margaret.
*”Were building something together,”* hed say with that charming smile.
Spoiler: I never saw a penny of those *”investments.”*
Meanwhile, Margaret was another story. She had a way of making me feel Id never be good enough for her precious son. What grated most was how shed find fault in every gift.
A few months ago, we bought her a new microwave, thinking shed be pleased.
*”Its alright, but why isnt it a smart one?”* she sighed, rolling her eyes.
An expensive spa day we treated her to? She called the masseuse *”dreadful.”*
No matter how hard I tried, Margaret always found a way to criticise.
Still, I stayed mature. I wanted a good relationship with herfor Williams sake and, yes, for mine.
I thought kindness might soften her. But kindness doesnt always win, does it?
Then there was Williams habit with money.
His borrowing didnt stop after we married. If anything, it got worse.
It wasnt just *”investments.”* There were always reasons tied to Margaret. *”Mum needs a new armchair,”* hed say. Or, *”Mums birthdays coming upI want to get her something special.”*
And every time, I gave in.
I told myself it was just money, that compromise was part of marriage. I wanted to believe we were building something together, even if it felt like I was the only one contributing.
The night everything changed started like any other. Margaret was *”unwell”*or so William said.
*”She hasnt eaten all day,”* he fretted.
That evening, we were supposed to meet our estate agent to finalise buying the house wed rented for five years. It was meant to be a huge momentthe dream wed worked toward for so long.
But William seemed distracted. As we sat down to review the paperwork, he sighed dramatically.
*”We need to reschedule,”* he said. *”Mums really poorly.”*
*”Reschedule?”* I asked. *”William, weve waited a year for this. Cant we visit her after?”*
*”She hasnt eaten, Emily,”* he repeated sharply. *”Ill take care of her. Could you bring her some of your lasagne? You know how much she loves it.”*
*”What about the house?”* I pressed. *”This has to be done today.”*
*”Dont worry,”* he said, waving me off. *”Well sort it tomorrow.”*
Something in his tone felt off, but I pushed the thought away. He was just worried about his mother, wasnt he?
Despite our differences, Margaret adored my lasagne. This cheesy masterpiece always earned her rare praise.
I figured making it for her in her *”time of need”* might ease the tension between us. So I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.
As the lasagne baked, I couldnt stop thinking of the sacrifices wed made to save for the house. Skipped holidays, budget meals, overtimeall for this dream.
Legally, the house was in Williams name due to some inheritance quirks, but I wasnt worried. In England, marital assets are split 50-50 in a divorce.
I trusted Williamthough that arrangement left a tiny knot in my stomach.
Around 6 PM, I got in the car with the still-warm lasagne. William said he had *”an important meeting”* and couldnt join me.
Twenty minutes into the drive, my phone rang. It was Sarah, my solicitor. She never called after hours unless it was urgent.
*”Hello?”* I said. *”Whats wrong?”*
*”Get home NOW,”* she barked.
*”Sarah, whats happening?”*
*”Its William,”* she said. *”Theyre at your house with the estate agent. You need to come back immediately.”*
*”Whos they?”* I asked, already turning the car around.
*”William and Margaret,”* she said, her voice hardening. *”Theyre signing papers to transfer the house into her name.”*
*”What the hell”*
*”Just get home!”* she cut in, hanging up.
By the time I pulled into the drive, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely unbuckle my seatbelt.
Inside, the scene was worse than I imagined.
William stood in the living room with papers hed clearly tried to hide. Margaret hovered beside him, looking perfectly healthy.
The estate agenta woman I didnt recogniselooked deeply uncomfortable, like she regretted being involved.
*”Whats going on?”* I demanded.
William stepped forward. *”Love, just listen”*
*”No,”* Sarah interrupted, striding in behind me. *”Let me explain, since you clearly cant be honest.”*
Then she turned to me.
*”Theyre transferring the house to Margaret,”* she said. *”Your house, Emily. The one you saved for.”*
I stared at William, unable to process what I was seeing.
*”Why?”* My voice barely made it out. *”How could you?”*
Margaret crossed her arms, lips curling into a smirk.
*”Its simple,”* she said. *”William has always been my son first, and I protect whats his. You cant trust just anyone these days.”*
I was speechless.
*”But thats not all,”* Sarah cut in. *”When the agent noticed this paperwork, I did some digging. Margaret planned for William to marry someone elseher friends daughter. They were going to divorce you, leave you with nothing, and move on like you never existed.”*
My chest tightened. The room spun.
*”You planned this with her?”* I turned to William. *”I trusted you. I gave you everything. Do you even realise what youve done?”*
*”It wasnt like that,”* William stammered, avoiding my eyes. *”Mum just thought itd be better”*
*”Better for who?”* I snapped. *
