Arabella saved for her ideal home for years, but she never thought her own relatives would try to embezzle her money. She was forced to decide between maintaining the peace and retaining what was properly hers as a result of this betrayal.
I can still clearly recall the precise moment I came to the realization that my marriage was based on sand. It wasn’t one of the usual lazy Sundays when I worked extra and my husband Nathan played video games. Not even when he dismissed my advice to begin saving money on his own.
No, it was the night his parents arrived at our rented flat with smug grins, eager to take possession of my dream home money.
I had been saving every dime for our future house for three years. I brought PB&Js as my colleagues indulged in gourmet meals. During their tropical holidays, I took on additional nursing shifts.
Every time I walked by the vending machine in the break room, I reminded myself that every $2 saved brought us one step closer to our goal.
My friend Darla used to say, “Girl, you need to live a little,” as she ate her $18 crab salad. “You can’t take it with you when you die.”
As I patted my dejected sandwich, I would respond, “But I can live in the house I buy with my money while I’m alive,”
Nathan didn’t care to save anything. He was always stretched out on our couch with a controller in hand and takeaway containers strewn all over him when I returned home from a double shift.
I would advise, “Baby, you really should start saving too,” while cleaning up his mess. “Even a little bit helps.”
He would hardly take his eyes off his game. “We’ve got time. You’re so good with money anyway.” Or my particular favorite: “What’s mine is yours, babe. Why stress about it?”
I’d say, “Because it’s our future,”
He would simply shrug. “And you’re handling it great. That’s why we’re such a good team.”
I should have recognized the warning signs in those responses. He was at least demonstrating to me his lack of ambition. He was essentially telling me that he didn’t give a damn about us.
However, love has a way of rendering you colorless.
I had just completed a 12-hour shift at the hospital that fateful evening. My feet hurt in my old shoes, my scrubs smelled like antiseptic, and all I wanted was a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.
Rather, when I opened our door, Nathan’s parents, Barbara and Christian, were in our living room, appearing as though they owned the space.
As I moved deeper into my apartment, Barbara sat on my couch like it was a palace, her immaculately manicured nails tapping against her knee.
She said, “Let’s talk about your house fund,” without introducing herself.
“What?”
With a knowing sneer on his lips, my father-in-law stood next to her. With sparkling eyes, he leaned forward and said, “We found a bigger home across town. Beautiful place, really. Four bedrooms, three baths, perfect for entertaining.” “Since you’ve got all that cash saved up, we figured, why not keep it in the family?”
Their words were difficult for my head to digest. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb, dear,” Barbara remarked, dismissively waving her hand. Her smile was cold and toothy as she said, “We know exactly how much you’ve saved. Nathan’s been keeping us informed.” “Have you forgotten that we let you live in our house for that first year after the wedding? You owe us.”
I clenched my jaw at the thought of that year. I had done all the cooking and cleaning, and they would “let” us stay there in exchange for rent. “Owe you? For what exactly? I bought the groceries, cooked every meal, cleaned the entire house—”
Barbara interrupted, raising her eyebrows. “That’s not enough,” Barbara said. “Really, Arabella, I thought you were raised better than this. Family helps family.”
I retorted, “Family doesn’t demand money from family,”
Christian gave a snort. “Look at her, Barbara. Getting all high and mighty with her sad nurse’s salary. You’d think we were asking for a kidney.”
I looked to Nathan in the hopes that he would stand up for me. Rather, a childlike smile appeared on his face as he cleared his throat and moved in his seat. “Actually… since they’re using your savings anyway, I figured I should do something for myself too.”
Regardless, using your savings… Like it was a done thing? “Do what?” was all I could think to say, though.
Like a child at Christmas, his face broke into a broad smile. “Buy a motorcycle! One of those really nice Harleys. I’ve always wanted one!”
“A motorcycle,” I stated unequivocally.
“Yeah! I mean, it’s perfect timing, right? Mom and Dad get their house, I get my bike, everybody wins!”
Barely audible above a whisper, the inquiry was, “And what do I get?”
Barbara rolled her eyes. “You get to help your family. Isn’t that enough?”
The room whirled a little. I tried to keep my composure as I stared at these three individuals who seemed to view my years of sacrifice as an ATM or checking account that they could just withdraw from. What the devil was going on, really?
When I finally said, “This is my money,” I tried not to shake. “Money I earned. Money I saved. For our future home. Not for your new house or Nathan’s toy.”
Nathan’s grin dimmed. “Come on, Bella. Don’t be like that.”
“Like what? Upset that you’re giving away my money without asking me?”
Barbara sighed. “It’s not just your money. You’re married. What’s yours is his.”
“Funny how that only applies to my savings and not to the responsibility of actually saving it,” I said.
Nathan got to his feet, his face hardening in a way I didn’t often see. “Look, the house fund is in my name too, remember? Joint account?”
I felt sick to my stomach. He was correct. We created a joint account when we first put it up because… Well, because that’s what married people do, and we were married.
forcefully, “I won’t agree to this,” I said.
Nathan folded his arms. “You don’t have to agree. Either you transfer the money by the end of the week, or I will. Your choice.”
I fixed my gaze on the three of them, their expressions fixed. To get here, they had conspired for an unknown amount of time. However, they were not alone in their ability to devise a strategy.
I grinned and let out a slow exhale. “You know what? You’re right. I’ll take care of the transfer myself.”
Immediately, the tension in the room subsided.
Barbara smirked as her posture eased. “I knew you’d see reason,” she remarked. Her husband was giving her a sign of approval.
Nathan put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed while grinning. “That’s my girl. You always come through. I’m going to drive my parents back home, okay? See you later.”
Soon after, they departed, already talking about Nathan’s ideal motorcycle’s characteristics and paint colors for their new home.
As they got into Nathan’s car, I watched from the window of our flat, smiling and rejoicing in their triumph.
I had, however, bought myself some time. And all I needed was time.
For the first time in three years, I called in ill to work the following morning. Nathan didn’t know. He was snoozing contentedly.
I went to the bank as soon as it opened and created a new account in my name. When I told the banker what I wanted to accomplish, his eyebrows went up.
“That’s a substantial sum to move,” she observed as she glanced at me through her glasses.
My response was, “It’s my life savings,” “And I need to protect it.”
All of the cents had been transferred by midday. After that, I went to a lawyer’s office that I had looked into the previous evening. Sandra has a reputation for managing complicated financial matters in divorces.
“Let me get this straight,” she remarked, pressing her legal pad against her pen. “Your husband and his parents were planning to take your savings without your consent?”
“Sort of. Nathan said he would transfer the money ‘whether I like it or not.'”
“So, you’ve moved the money already?”
I gave a nod.
“Wonderful move,” she nodded. “But I’m going to need all your statements, and let’s talk about what comes next.”
I was happy that I had kept all of the bank documents I had ever received.
I played my part for the remainder of the week after I had made my plans. I fixed dinner when I got home from work and acted like nothing was wrong.
Nathan occasionally mentioned motorbike models or inquired as to whether I had yet to transfer funds to his parents’ account, indicating that he was happy with himself.
I said, “I’m handling it,” “Don’t worry.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding. “I think it’s best they get the money for the bike, too. I’ll go with them to buy it, so I can surprise you with it later.”
I answered, “Sounds good,” and resumed my household tasks.
By Friday, Barbara and Christian were back at our door, almost bursting with excitement.
Barbara said, “Well?” without even saying “hello.” “Is it done? We’re making the final offer today.”
Nathan touched me on the shoulder. “The deadline’s here, babe. Did you make the transfer?”
I inhaled deeply as I observed their eager expressions. “No, I didn’t.”
For a moment, none of them spoke.
In a voice that was dangerously low, Christian asked, “What do you mean, you didn’t?”
“I mean I didn’t transfer the money, and I’m not going to.”
Nathan tightened his hold on my shoulder. “We talked about this. If you didn’t do it, I would.”
I said, “Go ahead,” and moved away from him. “Check the account.”
He reached for his phone and opened our banking app, his face going white. As he entered his password, his fingers shook. His eyes then grew wide.
Whispering, “It’s… empty,” he said.
Anger twisted Barbara’s face. “What have you done with it?”
Just “I protected it,” I said. “From people who think they’re entitled to what I’ve worked for.”
Nathan’s face flushed as he said, “You can’t do this!” “That’s my money too!”
I chuckled. “Is it? Show me one transfer or pay stub that shows you contributed to it. One time you skipped buying a video game to put money into our future. One sacrifice you made.”
My father-in-law’s face twisted in anger as he pointed a finger at me. “You ungrateful little thief! After everything we’ve done for you!”
Calmly, I said, “What exactly have you done for me?”
Barbara yelled, “We let you live in our house!”
I stated, “You charged us rent,” instead. “And I did all the housework. So I’d say we’re even.”
I opened the paperwork Sandra had prepared while they looked at one another, perhaps trying to think of anything else to do. I pressed the manila packet containing the divorce papers against my soon-to-be ex-husband’s breast and disclosed, “And I didn’t just transfer the money, I’m leaving you.”
Nathan took hold of my arm with one hand and the envelope with the other. “Divorce? Fantastic! I’ll take all the money you owe us then. You know that, right?”
At that point, I took out my folder, which contained three years’ worth of detailed documentation detailing every additional shift I had worked, every wire or deposit I had made to the house fund, and every bill I had paid to keep us afloat.
I was aware that he would be thoroughly destroyed once he produced his records, which would only reveal the money he spent on hobbies and enjoyment rather than on contributing to our account.
“Try it,” I urged, using the folder to fan myself. “With all of this, you’ll end up owing me money.”
At last, he took a step back and opened the packet containing the divorce papers, his nose wrinkling. His parents watched him closely. They would only see my desire for the things I contributed to this marriage and my prospective contributions.
He could keep his terrible furniture and the lease on this place.
Barbara said, “You’re divorcing your husband over money?”
“No,” she was told. “I’m divorcing him because YOU ALL planned to steal from me. I just protected myself, so don’t play the victim. Doesn’t suit you.”
As they stood there, their lips twisted and their faces flushed, I went to the bedroom and came out with a little suitcase that I had packed the previous evening.
Nathan inquired, “You packed already?”
I answered, “Yes, I’m done with you,” “I’ve wasted enough time with a walking red flag. You should’ve known this would happen.”
Panic replaced Nathan’s rage. “Bella, wait. We can talk about this. Maybe we were too harsh and rushed—”
I gestured to the documents he was holding and stated, “No amount of niceness or patience now will make me change my mind,” “I suggest you read those carefully or have your lawyer call mine.”
Barbara called after me in a high-pitched voice as I made my way to the door. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just leave!”
I made one final turn around. “Watch me.”
I held my head high as I walked out that door. When I finally took a moment to really enjoy the springtime breeze, it hit my face as I packed my suitcase into my car.
My future was back in my hands, my dream home fund was secure, and although though I would have to spend some money on a new place to live, I knew that without having to deal with an irresponsible husband, I would be able to save a lot more.
Another story: I thought a note on the table was a nice note from my mother-in-law when I brought my newborn home from the hospital. Rather, it stated that she was billing us $600 for watching our dog while I was giving birth. I had a better suggestion, but my husband said he would speak with her.
Although this work has been fictionalized for artistic reasons, it is based on actual individuals and events. To preserve privacy and improve the story, names, characters, and specifics have been altered. Any likeness to real people—living or dead—or real events is entirely accidental and not the author’s intention.
The publisher and author disclaim all liability for any misunderstanding and offer no guarantees regarding the veracity of events or character portrayals. This story is presented “as is,” and the opinions stated are those of the characters and do not represent the publisher’s or author’s.
