The Devious Scheme
Emily was washing up, the clinking of plates filling the kitchen. Outside her Manchester flat, a damp September drizzle fell, streetlights glinting in the puddles. Then—a sudden knock at the door. There stood her mother-in-law, Linda, her smile tight as a pulled elastic band.
“Hello, love,” Linda chirped. “Thought I’d pop round!”
“Come in, I’ll get Jack,” Emily said, ushering her to the kitchen.
Minutes later, they sat sipping tea with raspberry jam. But then Emily felt a wave of dizziness, her face paling.
“Sorry, I’m not feeling well,” she murmured. “I’ll lie down a bit.”
“Of course, dear, rest up,” Linda cooed, oozing false concern.
Emily retreated to the bedroom but soon heard muffled arguing from the kitchen—Jack and his mum, voices sharp as knives.
“What’s all that about?” She tiptoed into the hall, ears straining. Then she gasped.
“Jack, love, our Sophie’s getting married! Her bloke’s asked her to move in with him,” Linda announced smugly, sipping her tea.
“Tom’s taking Sophie in already?” Jack scoffed. “Poor sod. Could’ve waited till after the wedding. Now he’s stuck with her tantrums.”
“Don’t be daft,” Linda snapped. “Sophie’s a proper lady—that’s why she landed such a catch. Steady job, good prospects.”
“Good prospects?” Jack snorted. “His money’s not even his. Sophie’ll get nowt if she walks.”
“You’re wrong, son,” Linda said, eyes flicking to Emily’s shadow in the hall. “Love’s about trust. But you don’t know the best bit yet.”
A dramatic pause—staged, like a bad telly moment.
“Spit it out then,” Jack grumbled.
“Tom’s putting one of his flats in Sophie’s name,” Linda crowed. “A wedding gift! That’s how much he loves her.”
“Talk’s cheap,” Jack muttered. “I’ll believe it when I see the papers.”
“Oh, you’ll see,” Linda snipped. “Sophie’s got herself a proper man.”
Silence. Emily’s stomach dropped—this whole act was for her. Linda was dangling Sophie’s “good fortune” like bait, hinting Emily was the ungrateful wife who didn’t share.
A year ago, Emily married Jack for love. They’d met at her office when he fixed the AC—his grin disarming, his chat effortless. He’d teased her, helped with odd jobs, then boldly asked for her number. Dates followed: strolls along the canal, cinema trips, cosy pubs. That New Year’s Eve, she invited him over, and things turned serious.
When Jack learned Emily owned a one-bed flat—a gift from her parents—he’d gawped. Her hometown near Manchester wasn’t glamorous, but after uni, her folks handed her the keys.
Linda, upon hearing this, pounced.
“What’re you waiting for?” she’d badgered Jack. “Propose already!”
“Still thinking,” he’d waffled. “It’s early days.”
“Early days!” Linda huffed. “A girl with property, and you’re dawdling?”
Jack proposed. Emily, swept up, said yes. They moved into her flat post-wedding. But Linda kept nagging—now about grandkids.
“When’m I getting grandbabies?” she’d pester.
“Plenty of time,” Emily demurred. “We’re young, want to enjoy ourselves.”
“Reckon you don’t love him,” Linda sneered six months in. “Or you’re holding out—why else no kids?”
“You’re way off,” Emily said icily.
Things turned frosty. But kids weren’t the real issue. Linda decided Emily must add Jack to the deed.
“You’re family now,” she’d insist. “Everything should be shared—including this flat. You live off his wages, buy furniture, do up the place. What if you chuck him out? He’ll be homeless!”
“I won’t chuck him out,” Emily fumed, biting her tongue.
“Then put his name on it!” Linda demanded. “He’s the man of the house!”
“Let him earn his own flat,” Emily shot back. “Save for the kids’ future.”
“Put her in her place,” Linda would hiss to Jack. “She’ll boot you, and you’ll get nothing!”
“Mum, how’m I supposed to force her?” Jack groaned. “It’s her flat, legally.”
Yet he’d begun needling Emily about joint ownership.
“My mates take the mick,” he’d grumble.
“Take the mick how?” Emily frowned. “You had no flat before. Nothing’s changed. No one’s conned you.”
“Mum’s right,” Jack would sulk. “No kids, no shared home. Maybe you don’t love me.”
“What rubbish!” Emily spat. “Why’d I marry you, then?”
“Dunno. Why did you?” he’d muse.
“Same question,” she’d counter. “Or did you marry the flat? Ready-made, no mortgage. We’ve spent on holidays, your car on finance. With a mortgage, you’d be skint. So who married for what?”
Jack would huff—briefly. Then his aunt Margaret arrived, a bulldozer of a woman who even intimidated Linda.
“So, kids, how’s married life?” Margaret boomed at a family dinner.
“Grand,” Jack said. “Bought a place. Mostly my cash, Emily chipped in.”
Emily gaped. Jack was flat-out lying—claiming her home as his. He bragged about his salary, his flash car, plans to build a house.
“Good lad,” Margaret beamed. “That’s the way. My boys are on their second home. Don’t drag your feet—kids’ll eat your time.”
Linda shot nervous glances at Emily, fearing she’d blab. But Emily stayed quiet. Let them play pretend.
Same farce when Jack’s mate Greg visited.
“Alright, mate?” Greg clapped Jack’s back. “Proper grown-up now!”
“Just touring while I’m single,” Greg grinned. “You’re second on my list.”
“Get in, make yourself at home,” Jack said. “Flat’s mine, so it’s yours too.”
“Brilliant!” Greg laughed. “Three years, and you’ve bagged a wife and a place? I’m still dreaming.”
“That’s me,” Jack preened. “Just the start. Gonna build a family home soon.”
“Lucky you, Emily,” Greg winked. “Hold onto this one.”
“Right,” Emily deadpanned, stunned by the charade.
She fled to her parents’ for two days, needing air. Jack wasn’t who she’d thought.
“Don’t rush divorce,” her mum cautioned. “Wait it out. The showboating might fade. His mum’s winding him up.”
“Dunno, Mum,” Emily sighed. “He married the flat. Lies constantly. Linda’s pushing him to claim half. How much longer?”
“Your call,” her mum said. “But don’t sign that deed.”
Linda turned up unannounced, eyes red-raw.
“Jack, it’s awful,” she sobbed. “Sophie’s drowning in debt. You’ve got to help.”
“What happened?” Jack blanched.
“Loans, a car, jewellery,” Linda wailed. “Tom dumped her. No wedding, no flat. She thought he’d pay.”
“Dumped her?” Emily murmured from the hall.
“Yes! Told her never to call,” Linda wept. “She splashed out, thought he was loaded.”
“How much’s she owe?” Jack asked.
“Thousands, son,” Linda whimpered.
“Sell the car, the jewellery,” Emily suggested, stepping in. “Cover some of it.”
“Tried,” Linda sniffed. “But it’s a drop in the ocean.”
“What can we do?” Jack frowned.
“Emily adds your name to the flat,” Linda blurted. “Remortgage your half, clear the debt. We’ll pay it back.”
“Never!” Emily snapped. “This flat’s from my parents. Not a single brick!”
“You heartless cow!” Linda shrieked. “You’d let family suffer?”
Emily stormed off but caught whispers at the door.
“I’ve tried everything,” Linda hissed. “Your wife won’t budge.”
“Guess it’s hopeless,” Jack sighed. “Though I’ve one last play.”
“Ah, so that’s it!” Emily burst in. “This is all a con! Sophie’s debts, your sob stories—you won’t get my flat! Earn your own, then do what you like!”
That night, Jack packed a bag and left. Emily filed for divorce, kicking herself for not doingShe changed the locks the next morning, finally free of their schemes.
