“You’re not my mother, that’s all!”
“Why can’t you mind your own business?” Emily screamed, flinging her arms wide. “She’s my daughter, not yours!”
“I just wanted to help,” Sarah murmured, gripping the frying pan in her hands as she stood by the stove. “Lily’s ill—she has a high fever—”
“Help?” Emily sneered. “Oh, right. You just want Dad to think you’re the perfect stepmother, don’t you?”
“Emily, enough,” Robert tried to intervene, but his daughter didn’t even glance at him.
“And you—shut up! You always take her side!” She jabbed a finger in Sarah’s direction. “You’re not my mother, that’s all! You traded me for her!”
Emily choked on the last word, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the kitchen. Her bedroom door slammed so hard the china rattled in the cabinet.
Sarah set the pan down and sank into a chair. Her hands trembled; tears burned in her eyes.
“Don’t mind her,” Robert said, resting a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “She’s upset about university. Didn’t get the funding she wanted, and now she’s furious at the world.”
“Rob… she’s right,” Sarah whispered. “I’m not her mother. I never will be.”
“Don’t be daft. Time will sort it out.”
Sarah gave a bitter smile. *Time.* They’d been married four years, and things with Emily had only gotten worse. At first, the girl was just cold—distant. Then came the sarcastic remarks, the little digs. Now it was outright war.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have offered to pay for her tuition,” Sarah said.
“Why not? You meant well.”
“But she took it as me trying to buy her affection.”
Robert sighed and sat beside her.
“I know it’s hard, love. But Emily lost her mum at fourteen. She’s scared someone will take her place.”
“I’m not trying to replace her mother. I just want us to live in peace.”
“I know. And she’ll understand that, eventually.”
Sarah nodded, but doubt gnawed at her. Every day in this house was a battle. Emily seemed to hunt for reasons to fight—whether it was Sarah’s cooking, where she left her things, or how loudly she spoke on the phone.
From Emily’s room, blaring music shook the walls. The neighbours had complained more than once, but the girl didn’t care.
“Ask her to turn it down,” Sarah said.
“You tell her. You two need to learn to talk.”
“After what just happened?”
“Especially now. Letting it fester won’t help.”
Reluctantly, Sarah rose and knocked on Emily’s door.
“Emily, can I come in?”
The music grew louder. Sarah knocked harder.
“Emily, please, I need to talk to you.”
The door flew open. The girl stood there, eyes red-rimmed.
“What do *you* want?”
“Turn the music down. The neighbours are complaining.”
“I don’t care about the neighbours.”
“Emily, I know you’re upset—”
“You know *nothing*!” Emily exploded. “You think offering money means I’ll suddenly love you? Forget it!”
“I don’t expect you to love me. I just want us to stop fighting.”
“Don’t like it? Then leave. This is *our* house—mine and Dad’s. *You* don’t belong here.”
The words hit Sarah like a slap. She forced herself to stay calm.
“Emily, your father loves me. And I love him. We’re family.”
“No!” Emily shrieked. “*We* are family—me and Dad! You’re just some woman living here! Did you really think I wouldn’t find out you married him for the house?”
Sarah paled.
“Who told you that?”
“Gran. Mum’s mum. She says you’re a gold digger. That you targeted Dad once you found out he was a widower with a three-bedroom in London.”
“That’s a lie—”
“Is it?” Emily stepped closer, eyes blazing. “You were forty, living in a shared flat. Then suddenly, bam—a man with a house! Of course you latched onto him!”
Every word was a blow. Sarah’s face burned.
“I love your father—”
“Oh, sure. You love his *paycheck* and his *house*. You just tolerate *him*.”
“Stop it!” Sarah’s voice cracked. “You have no right!”
“I have *every* right! This is *my* home! You’re *nothing* here!”
Emily slammed the door in her face. The music roared louder.
Sarah stood frozen in the hallway, shaking with anger and hurt. The words had struck deep. Yes, she’d met Robert at forty. Yes, she’d lived in a cramped flat and dreamed of her own space. But she’d married him for love, not money.
Robert found her in the bathroom, trying to compose herself.
“What happened? Emily’s screaming like a banshee.”
“She said I only married you for the house.”
Robert frowned.
“Where’d she get that idea?”
“From your former mother-in-law. Turns out Margaret’s been feeding her this rubbish.”
“Right.” Robert’s jaw tightened. “Margaret never liked me. After I married you, she turned vicious.”
“Rob… maybe I *should* leave.” Sarah’s voice was barely audible. “Look how much Emily’s hurting. I don’t want to come between you.”
“You’re *not* going anywhere,” Robert said firmly. “You’re my wife. If anyone has a problem with that, it’s *theirs*.”
“But Emily—”
“Emily needs to learn the world doesn’t revolve around her. People have a right to be happy.”
Sarah pressed into his embrace. With him, she always felt safe. But alone with Emily? The battles never ended.
The next morning, Emily pointedly skipped breakfast. Later, she stormed out to uni, slamming the door. Sarah exhaled in relief—at least a few hours of peace.
She cleaned the house, made lunch, then settled at her sewing machine. She worked from home, tailoring clothes for clients. It wasn’t much, but it paid the bills.
The doorbell rang. An older woman stood on the doorstep, face stern.
“Margaret?” Sarah blinked.
“Yes. May I come in?”
“Of course.”
Margaret strode into the living room and sat without waiting.
“Would you like tea?” Sarah offered.
“No. I’m not here for pleasantries.”
“Then why?”
The woman’s gaze swept the room.
“You’ve landed on your feet,” she said finally. “From that shoebox flat to *this*.”
Sarah’s cheeks flamed.
“If you’ve come to insult me—”
“No. I’m here to make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
Margaret pulled an envelope from her handbag.
“Fifty thousand pounds. Yours. If you divorce Robert and disappear.”
Sarah stared.
“Are you *mad*?”
“Hardly. You’re tearing this family apart. Emily’s miserable. Robert’s changed—he used to be a devoted father. Now it’s all about *you*.”
“Robert loves me—”
“Robert’s blinded. It won’t last. But while you’re here, that girl suffers. Don’t you have any pity?”
Sarah’s stomach twisted. So this was what they *all* thought of her.
“Keep your money,” she said.
“Think carefully. Fifty grand could buy you a flat of your own.”
“I’m not for sale.”
“Everyone has a price. Seventy thousand?”
“Leave.” Sarah’s voice was ice.
“A hundred. That’s my final offer.”
Sarah stood and walked to the door.
“I said *go*.”
Margaret rose slowly, lips thin.
“You’re making a mistake. Emily will never accept you.”
“We’ll see.”
“Fine. But if you change your mind—you know where to find me.”
She left, the envelope still on the table. Sarah stared at it a long moment before tossing it in the bin.
That evening, she told Robert about the visit.
“She offered you *money*?” he growled.
“A hundred grand to divorce you.”
Robert paled with fury.
“How *dare* she. I’ll have words with her tomorrow.”
“Don’t. It’ll only make things worse.”
“I won’t let her treat you like this.”
“What can you do? Forbid her from seeing Emily?”
Robert fell silent. They both knew that would only deepen the rift.
Emily came home late, avoiding them. The next morning, she left without breakfast, slamming doors for effect.
Days passed. The tension thickened. Emily ignored Sarah entirely and barely spoke to her father.
Then one evening, she didn’t come home. Robert called repeatedly, but her phone was off.Eventually, after a long and painful silence, Emily walked through the front door with tears in her eyes, whispered “I’m sorry,” and for the first time, Sarah hugged her back without hesitation, knowing this fragile truce was the beginning of something real.
