Jen’s husband, David, and his mom, Margaret, took off to Dubai with cash from Jennifer’s wallet, leaving her stuck at home with the kids

“But it’s not just legal. She’s my husband’s mother. If I evict her, David will never forgive me.”

“You need to decide what’s more important,” Lisa looked at her intently. “Your son’s health or your relationship with your mother-in-law?” Jennifer fell silent, weighing her words. What was more important? The answer was clear, but deciding was still hard.

“I could rent it for a lot more, right?” she asked finally. “Absolutely,” Lisa nodded. “A two-bedroom in that area goes for at least $1,200–$1,400 a month.

That’s not including utilities. If your mother-in-law moves out, I can find tenants fast. Within a week, two max.

I’ll handle the paperwork and screen candidates.” “Plus,” Lisa lowered her voice, “it’s often easier dealing with strangers than family. They pay on time.”

Jennifer gave a wry smile. “You’re right. Just…

I don’t know how to tell David.” “Maybe try talking again? Explain the money situation for treatment. He’s a dad, after all.”

“I’ve tried,” Jennifer shook her head. “Over and over. He either dodges or calls me selfish.

‘How can you do this to my mom? She helps us.’” “Does she really help?” Lisa asked skeptically. Jennifer paused.

Did she? Margaret sometimes picked up the kids, sometimes cooked dinner. But even that help was inconsistent, always paired with reminders of what a sacrificial grandma she was. “Not as much as she could,” Jennifer admitted.

“And definitely not enough to justify three years of free rent.” Lisa shook her head. “I had a client in a similar spot.

Her mother-in-law moved into her apartment ‘temporarily,’ then wouldn’t leave. She ended up changing the locks while the mother-in-law was away for a weekend. Harsh, but it worked.”

“I can’t do that,” Jennifer imagined David and Margaret’s reactions. “It’d be a lifelong scandal.” “Then try a formal notice,” Lisa opened her notebook.

“Write a letter stating that starting on a specific date, rent is X amount, and if she refuses, you’ll have to find other tenants. Give her a month to decide.” “Think it’ll work?” “Honestly? No clue,” Lisa shrugged.

“But it’s legal, and David can’t accuse you of sneaking around. All above board.” Jennifer nodded.

It seemed the most reasonable option. At least it gave Margaret a chance to make the right choice. Now came the hard part—talking to David.

David came home late, tired and grumpy. Not the best time for a serious talk, but Jennifer couldn’t wait. “We need to talk,” she said as he stepped out of the shower.

“Not now, okay?” David flopped onto the bed. “I’m beat.” “It’s important,” she insisted.

“It’s about Tommy’s treatment.” David sighed but sat up, showing he was listening. “Go ahead.”

Jennifer took a deep breath and began. “I’ve decided that starting next month, I’m renting Grandma’s apartment at market rate. Your mom can stay if she pays full price or find another place.”

She braced for anger, but David just rubbed his face wearily. “Here we go again. I told you, Mom can’t afford that.

She’s had three years to find another place,” Jennifer said firmly. “Three years, David. She promised a couple of months and stayed three years.

She could’ve saved for a down payment or found a cheaper place.” “Easy for you to say,” he snapped. “You’ve got an apartment, she’s got nothing.”

“Because she blew the money from her apartment sale on coats and vacations.” Jennifer felt her temper rise. “That’s her choice.

Why should our son suffer for her irresponsibility?” “What’s Tommy got to do with it?” David frowned. “Everything. We need money for his treatment.” Jennifer pulled out a folder of medical documents.

“Look. The next surgery is $25,000. We’ve got $10,000.

Renting the apartment for $1,200 a month, we’d cover the rest in five months.” David flipped through the papers, his expression growing serious. “Why so much? Aren’t there subsidies?” “We used this year’s subsidy,” Jennifer sighed.

“And we can’t wait till next year, you heard the doctor.” “Maybe a loan?” David suggested hesitantly. “We’ve got a mortgage and two personal loans,” she reminded him.

“No bank will give us more.” David stared at the documents, silent. Finally, he looked up.

“So what’s your plan?” “I’m not suggesting we throw your mom out. I’m giving her a choice,” Jennifer handed him a drafted letter. “Pay market rate or find another place.

She’s got a month to decide.” David scanned the letter, his face darkening. “You decided this without me.”

“I’m trying to discuss it now,” Jennifer kept her voice calm. “But every time I bring it up, you brush me off or get mad.” “Because you’re asking the impossible,” David tossed the letter onto the bed. “Mom can’t pay $1,200.”

“Where’s she supposed to go?” “To the streets?”

“With what she spends on spas and coats, she could rent a room or a small apartment farther out.” Jennifer was losing patience. “Or get a job.

She’s only 58, perfectly capable.” “Why work when she can mooch off her son and daughter-in-law and expect gratitude?” “Don’t talk about my mother like that,” David jumped up.

“She worked her whole life, she deserves a rest.” “Our son deserves proper treatment,” Jennifer stood too. “What’s more important, David? Your mom’s comfort or your son’s health?” David glared at her with rare fury. “You’re forcing me to choose the impossible.”

“Life’s forcing you, not me,” Jennifer said quietly. “And I’ve made my choice. For our son.”

David clenched his fists, silent. Then he grabbed his jacket and stormed out. “David,” Jennifer called. “We’re not done.” “I’m done,” he threw over his shoulder.

“Do what you want. Don’t expect me to help evict my own mother.” The door slammed so hard the dishes rattled.

Tommy woke crying in the next room. Jennifer closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. She took a deep breath, wiped her face, and went to soothe her son.

That night, David didn’t come home. For three days, he stayed away, sending curt texts. Then, finally, a call.

“Yeah?” Jennifer kept her tone neutral. “We need to talk,” David said without preamble. “Can you come to Mom’s?”

Jennifer smirked. “Of course, enemy territory.” “No, I can’t.

I’ve got kids, and I’m not dragging them around for a talk we can have at home.” “Jen, don’t make this harder,” David sounded impatient. “It’s important.”

“It’s important to me that my husband sleeps at home, not hides at his mom’s for three days,” she shot back. “Want to talk? Come here.” A pause, then a heavy sigh.

“Fine. I’ll be there in an hour.” Jennifer hung up and glanced at the clock.

Nearly six. Tommy played with toy cars in the corner, Emily drew at the table. A normal evening about to turn into a battlefield.

She didn’t waste time, gathering documents: bank statements for Tommy’s treatment fund, medical reports, clinic estimates. Anything to back her case for needing extra funds. An hour later, the doorbell rang.

David stood at the threshold with a gym bag, like a guest, not a husband returning home. “Daddy!” Emily squealed, rushing to him. “Hey, princess,” he scooped her up and hugged her tightly.

“Missed you.” Jennifer watched silently, a mix of anger at his three-day absence, relief that he was back, and dread for the talk ahead. “Kids eaten?” David asked, setting Emily down.

“Yeah,” Jennifer nodded. “Tommy’s finishing a cartoon, then I’ll put them to bed. We’ll talk after.”

David nodded and headed to the kitchen. She heard him open the fridge, pour something, clink dishes. Such a domestic sound, yet it made her ache.

As if nothing had changed, as if there weren’t three days of silence and cold texts. Once the kids were asleep, Jennifer returned to the kitchen. David sat at the table, staring at his phone, an empty plate in front of him.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” She sat across from him, placing the document folder between them. David looked up, his eyes tired. “I spoke to Mom.

She’s shocked by your decision.” “No surprise there,” Jennifer shrugged. “Who likes paying for what they got free?” “Jen, you know she can’t afford it,” David leaned forward. “Where’s she supposed to go? She has no other home.” “When she sold her apartment, did she think about where she’d go?” Jennifer kept her voice calm, though she was boiling inside. “Or did she assume we’d cover her forever?” “She thought family would support her,” David frowned.

“That her son and daughter-in-law wouldn’t kick her out.” “We didn’t kick her out. Three years, David,” Jennifer’s voice rose, but she caught herself, mindful of the kids. “Three years she’s lived in my apartment for free. Promised a couple of months, but never looked for another place.”

“She looked,” David said uncertainly. “Just didn’t find anything suitable.” “Really?” Jennifer raised a skeptical brow.

“How many places did she check in three years? Two? Three? Or none?” David looked away, silent. They both knew the truth: Margaret hadn’t bothered searching. She was comfortably settled in Jennifer’s apartment and had no plans to change that.

“Okay,” David said finally. “Let’s say you’re right. But $1,200 is too much.

Maybe $600? She’s your mother-in-law, not a stranger.” “I consulted a realtor,” Jennifer opened the folder and pulled out a printout of comparable rentals.

“Here, look. Similar apartments in that area rent for $1,200–$1,400. I already knocked off $200 for family ties.”

David scanned the list, his face growing darker. “You’re seriously ready to evict Mom if she doesn’t pay?” “She has a choice,” Jennifer said firmly. “Pay market rate or find a cheaper place.

A one-bedroom in the suburbs can go for $800. That’s doable for a working person.” “What work? She’s 58.”…