**Overhearing My Husbands Sister Plotting to Steal My Flat I Gave Her a Taste of Her Own Medicine**
Emily shoved the dirty plates into the dishwasher and hit the quick-wash button. Friday nights dinner had gone smoothly: James had devoured her signature shepherds pie, and even Sophiewho usually turned her nose up at anything that upstart cooked (as she liked to call Emily behind her back)had taken two helpings.
Im off for a shower, James called from the hall. Got football with the lads tomorrowneed an early night.
Go on, Emily waved him off, scrubbing the countertop.
Sophie lounged in the living room, eyes glued to her phone. Shed arrived the night beforeunannounced, as usualwith a pile of shopping bags and her trademark scowl. Just popping in for the weekend, shed said. Like always.
Fancy a cuppa? Emily called from the kitchen doorway.
No, Sophie snapped, not looking up.
Emily shrugged and returned to the kitchen. Three years of marriage had taught her to ignore her sister-in-laws barbs. James always said, Sophs just pricklydont take it to heart.
The shower hummed to life upstairs. Emily flicked the kettle on and reached for her favourite mug. Then, Sophies voice cut through the quiet from the living room:
Mum, hi Yeah, Im at theirs No, she made her usual rubbish Listen, I spoke to the solicitor.
Emily froze, mug in hand. Sophies voice dropped to a whisper, but in the silent flat, every word carried.
Yes, through the courts Since the flat was left to James, not both of them No, that idiot hasnt a clue she can be taken off the deed Jamesll sign anything if we word it right
The mug slipped from Emilys fingers and shattered on the tiles.
What was that? Sophies voice sharpened.
Dropped a mug, Emily managed, ice flooding her veins.
The flattheir three-bedroom in Kensington, a wedding gift from Jamess grandmother. For the two of you, shed said. And now this viper was scheming to toss her out?
Typical, Sophie appeared in the doorway. Butterfingers.
Sorrylost my grip. Emily crouched to gather the shards, grateful Sophie couldnt see her face.
Use the dustpan, for Gods sake.
Emily fetched it mechanically, hands trembling.
Why the shaking? Sophie narrowed her eyes. Its just a mug.
Startled me, Emily lied.
Right. Our delicate little flower, Sophie scoffed before sauntering off.
One thought hammered in Emilys skull: *They want me out. Out of my own home.* Thats why Sophie had come.
James emerged, whistling.
Oh, smashed a mug? He grinned. No worrieswell replace it.
Yeah, Emily forced a smile.
He kissed her forehead and vanished into the bedroom.
She didnt sleep a wink. James snored beside her while she stared at the ceiling. Tell him? He adored Sophiealways took her side. Complain to her mother-in-law? She was clearly in on it. Margaret had never warmed to her, no matter how hard Emily tried.
*I have to fight this myself,* she decided by dawn. But how?
At breakfast, her hands shook so badly she missed the teacup with the sugar spoon.
Get a grip, she whispered. *Think.*
Her eyes landed on a solicitors business card stuck to the fridgeMr. Whitmore, whod helped their neighbour with a property dispute. She grabbed her phone.
Morning! Mr. Whitmore? Its Emily HarrisLucys neighbour. I need urgent advice. Today at one? Perfect.
James shuffled in, pillow crease on his cheek.
Youre up early, he murmured, kissing her.
Couldnt sleep. She avoided his gaze. James, Im meeting a friend todaySarah. Ages since we caught up.
Sarah? Sure. He yawned. Taking Soph to the cinema latershe asked last night.
*Of course she did,* Emily thought.
The solicitors office smelled of leather and coffee. Mr. Whitmore, a balding man in wire-frames, listened intently.
So, the flat was a gift from your husbands grandmother. Are you on the deeds?
Yesright after the wedding.
And whose name is on the title?
Pardon?
The ownership documents. Deed of gift? Will?
Emily blinked. James handled all that.
The solicitor sighed. First, confirm who legally owns the flat. If its just your husbandyouve a problem. If its jointhis sister cant touch you.
How?
Request a title register from the Land Registry. Do it today.
At home, Sophies heels littered the hallway.
Back already? Sophie smirked from the kitchen. We wondered where youd got to.
Just seeing Sarah. Emily kept her voice steady.
We saw that new action flick, Sophie leaned against the doorframe. James still picks rubbish films.
Emily brushed past her. In the bedroom, she pulled out her phone, ordered the registry document. Nowwait.
That night, with James asleep and Sophie in the guest room, the email arrived. Her fingers trembled as she opened it.
*Proprietor: James Edward Montgomery.*
Her breath caught. Sophie was rightlegally, the flat was his alone. She was just a name on paper. Fear twisted into fury. *Not happening.*
At dawn, she rang Mr. Whitmore.
Ive been registered there nearly three years, she whispered.
Good. That gives you occupancy rights. Plus, anything bought during marriagefurniture, renovationsis joint assets. If youve receipts
I kept them all.
Then youve a strong case. Gather every document. And *dont* sign anything they give you.
Thank you.
Emily you should tell your husband.
She exhaled. What if he doesnt believe me?
For two days, she moved like a ghostsmiling, cooking, pretending. Meanwhile, she compiled evidence: receipts for the sofa, the cooker, the new flooring. Bank transfers proving shed paid half. Their prenup, stating joint assets.
On Monday, Sophie announced she was staying.
Took a weeks leave, she told James sweetly. You wont boot your own sister, will you?
Stay as long as you like! James laughed.
Emilys nails bit her palms.
That night, Sophies hushed voice slithered through the dark:
Mum, its sorted Yes, staying longer No, hes clueless Papers are nearly ready Jamesll sign, no choice
Emilys blood burned. *Not if I stop you first.*
Next day, she took leave, visited the Land Registry, then a notary. By evening, she had a folder of documents and a plan.
Darling, should we invite your parents this weekend? she asked casually over supper.
Sophies head jerked up.
Brilliant idea! James beamed. Soph, Mumll love seeing you.
Lovely, Sophie muttered.
Saturday morning, Emily cooked like it was her last meal. Roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, treacle tarteverything perfect. *The last supper,* she thought bitterly, slicing carrots.
By six, the table groaned. Jamess parents arrivedCharles and Margaret. Her mother-in-laws smile didnt reach her eyes.
You look well, dear, Margaret said thinly.
Thanks, Emily smiled back.
Once seated, James raised his wine. To family!
To family, Emily echoed.
Sophie caught her eye and smirked. *Not for long.*
Actually, Emily said loudly, theres something we need to discuss.
All eyes turned.
James, I overheard Sophie and your mum plotting.
Silence. Sophie went pale.
What? James frowned.
Theyre planning to transfer the flat solely to you. Remove me from the deeds. Toss me out.
Rubbish! Margaret snapped. James, shes hysterical!
Emily, whats this? James looked between them.
Word for word, Emily said coolly. Sophie said, *That idiot doesnt know she can be removed,* and that youd *sign anything if we word it right.*
Sophie shot up. You were *eavesdropping*?
Overheard while cleaning. But thats not the point. The point is you want me *homeless*.
*Your* home? Margaret cut in. That flat belongs to James!
Sweetheart, this is mad, James
