**Overhearing My Husbands Sister Plotting to Take My Flat I Gave Her an Unexpected Surprise**
Emily shoved the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and switched on the quick-wash cycle. Friday dinner had been a success: Oliver wolfed down her signature shepherds pie with relish. Even Charlotte, who usually wrinkled her nose at anything “that poser” cookedas she called Emily behind her backhad two helpings.
“Im off for a shower,” Oliver called from the hallway. “Got football with the lads tomorrowneed an early night.”
“Go on then,” Emily waved, wiping down the counter.
Charlotte lounged in the living room, glued to her phone. Shed arrived the night beforeas usual, unannounced, with a mountain of shopping bags and her trademark scowl. “Just popping by for the weekend,” shed said, same as always.
“Fancy a cuppa?” Emily asked, peeking into the living room.
“No,” Charlotte snapped, not glancing up.
Emily shrugged and returned to the kitchen. After three years of marriage, she was used to her sister-in-laws barbs. Oliver always said, “Charlies got a sharp tongue, but she means well. Dont take it to heart.”
The shower hissed in the bathroom. Emily filled the kettle and reached for her favourite mug. Then she heard Charlottes voice from the living room:
“Mum, how are you? Yeah, Im at theirs No, she cooked her usual rubbish Listen, I spoke to the solicitor.”
Emily froze mid-reach. Charlotte dropped her voice to a whisper, but in the silent flat, every word carried.
“Yes, through the courts Since Nan left the flat to Oliver, not both of them No, that idiot doesnt even know she can be taken off the deed Oliverll sign anything if you word it right”
The mug slipped from Emilys fingers and shattered on the tiles.
“Whats happening in there?” Charlottes voice sharpened.
“Dropped a mug,” Emily replied, ice flooding her veins.
The flat The three-bedroom in Kensington where she and Oliver had lived for three years. A gift from his grandmother. “For the two of you,” the old woman had said. And now this snake wanted her out?
“Classic,” Charlotte appeared in the doorway. “Butterfingers, as usual.”
“Sorry, just distracted,” Emily bent to gather the pieces, grateful Charlotte couldnt see her face.
“Use the dustpan, for Gods sake.”
Emily fetched it numbly, hands trembling.
“Why the shakes?” Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “Its just a mug.”
“Just startled,” Emily lied.
“Right. Our delicate little daisy,” Charlotte scoffed, retreating.
One thought looped in Emilys mind: *They want me out. Of my own home. Thats why Charlottes here.*
Oliver emerged, whistling.
“Broke a mug? No worries, well replace it.”
“Sure,” Emily forced a smile.
He kissed her forehead and vanished into the bedroom.
Emily didnt sleep a wink. Oliver snored beside her while she stared at the ceiling. Tell her husband? He adored Charlotte, always excusing her. Complain to her mother-in-law? She was clearly in on it! The woman had never warmed to Emily, though she hid it well.
*I have to handle this myself,* Emily decided by dawn. But how?
At sunrise, she crept to the kitchen. Her hands shook so badly she missed the coffee cup twice.
“Pull yourself together,” she whispered. “Think.”
Her eyes landed on a solicitors card pinned to the fridgeMr. Thompson had helped their neighbour with a property dispute. She grabbed her phone.
“Good morning! Is this Mr. Thompson? Emily Whitmore here, Sarahs neighbour.”
She spoke low, eyeing the door.
“I need urgent advice. Today at one? Perfect.”
Oliver shuffled in, yawning.
“Up early?” He leaned in for a kiss.
“Couldnt sleep. Oliver, Im meeting a friend todayLucy. Been ages.”
“Lucy?”
“From uni,” she fibbed.
“Righto. Im taking Charlie to the cinema. Her idea.”
*Of course it was,* Emily thought.
The solicitors office smelled of leather and ink. Mr. Thompson, a greying man in spectacles, listened intently.
“So, the flat was a gift from your husbands grandmother Are you on the deeds?”
“Yes, right after the wedding.”
“And whose name is on the title?”
“Pardon?”
“The ownership documents. Deed of gift? Will?”
Emily blinked. “I dont know. Oliver handled it.”
The solicitor sighed. “First, confirm ownership. If its solely your husbandsyoure vulnerable. If jointhis sister cant touch you.”
“How?”
“Request a title register copy online or at the Land Registry. Today.”
Emily returned with a plan. In the hall, she tripped over Charlottes boots.
“Back already?” Charlotte smirked from the kitchen. “We wondered where youd got to.”
“Just seeing a friend,” Emily kept her tone light.
“We saw that new action flick,” Charlotte drawled, leaning against the doorframe. “Ollies taste hasnt maturedstill loves explosions.”
Emily nodded, slipping past. In the bedroom, she closed the door and pulled out her phone. The Land Registry site. Paid the fee. Now to wait.
That night, with Oliver asleep and Charlotte in the guest room, Emily checked her email. The register had arrived. Her breath caught as she opened it.
“Proprietor: Oliver James Whitmore.”
Charlotte was rightlegally, the flat was his alone. Fear curdled into fury. *Not happening.*
At dawn, Emily rang the solicitor again.
“Mr. Thompson, its worse”
“Listen,” he cut in. “Have you been registered there over three years?”
“Nearly.”
“Good. That grants occupancy rights. Plus, marital assetsfurniture, appliancesare jointly owned. If youve proof of contributing to renovations”
“We redid the kitchen! I kept receipts.”
“Then youve a strong case. Gather everything. And cruciallysign *nothing* they give you.”
“Thank you.”
“And Emily consider telling your husband.”
She sighed. “What if he sides with them?”
The next two days, Emily moved like a ghost. She smiled, cooked, played along. Secretly, she compiled evidence: receipts, bank transfers, their prenup stating shared assets.
On Monday, Charlotte announced she was staying the week.
“Took sudden leave,” she told Oliver sweetly. “You wont boot your own sister, will you?”
“Stay as long as you like!” Oliver laughed.
Emily bit her tongue.
That evening, she overheard Charlotte whispering:
“Mum, its all on track Yes, Ill stay No, the fool suspects nothing Papers are nearly ready Oliverll sign, hes clueless”
Emilys blood boiled. *Not if I can help it.*
The next day, she took leave and visited the notary. Then the Land Registry. By evening, she had a file of documents and a plan.
“Darling, shall we invite your parents this weekend?” she asked over dinner. “Its been ages.”
Charlottes head jerked up, eyes narrowed.
“Brilliant idea!” Oliver beamed. “Charlie, Mumll love seeing you too.”
“Lovely,” Charlotte muttered.
On Saturday, Emily cooked like never before. Roasts, pies, puddingsthe table groaned. *The last supper,* she thought grimly, chopping herbs.
By six, the family assembled: Olivers parents, James and Margaret. Margaret eyed Emily with faux warmth.
“You look well, dear.”
“Thank you,” Emily smiled.
Once seated, Oliver raised his glass. “To family!”
“To family,” Emily echoed.
Charlotte caught her eye and smirked. *Not for long.*
“Actually,” Emily said loudly, “theres something I need to discuss.”
All eyes turned.
“Oliver, I overheard Charlotte and your mum plotting.”
Silence. Charlotte paled.
“What?” Oliver frowned.
“Theyre planning to convince you to transfer the flat solely to yourself and remove me from the deeds. Kick me out.”
“Rubbish!” Margaret spluttered. “Emily, this is absurd!”
“Emily, whats this about?” Oliver looked between them.
“I heard every word,” Emily said firmly. “Charlotte said, That idiot doesnt know she can be removed, and that youd sign anything if worded right.”
Charlotte shot up. “You eavesdropped?!”
“I overheard while cleaning. But the point isyou want me *homeless*.”
“*Your* home?” Margaret snapped. “That flat is Olivers! His grandmother left it to *him*!”
“Love, this is madness,” Oliver took Emilys hand. “No one
