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

Finally, he looked up. “What if I say I don’t agree? That I’ll fight you if you evict Mom?” “Then I’ll have to choose between you and our kids’ well-being,” Jennifer said quietly. “And I’ll choose the kids.”

Respect flickered in David’s eyes, quickly replaced by stubbornness. “You don’t get what my mom’s been through,” he said. “She worked grueling jobs her whole life, gave up everything to raise me alone after Dad left.

She deserves a peaceful retirement.” “I feel for her,” Jennifer said sincerely. “But her past struggles don’t give her the right to take our kids’ future.

Tommy needs treatment now, not later. If it’s her comfort versus his health, I choose him. I hope you will too.”

David stared at her, as if seeing her anew. Then he shook his head slowly. “I can’t choose, Jen.

It’s too hard.” “Then I’ll choose for you,” she stood. “Tomorrow, I’m delivering a formal notice to your mom.

She has a week to decide, then I start showing the apartment to tenants. That’s final.” She headed for the kitchen door but paused and turned.

“And David, if you can’t choose between your mom and your son, I’m not sure we should stay together. Think about that.”

Next morning, Jennifer took a day off work. She dropped the kids at daycare and drove to her grandmother’s apartment, now Margaret’s home. A red folder with the notice sat on the passenger seat, strengthening her resolve with every glance.

She parked at the familiar building and sat in the car for a few minutes, gathering her strength. The conversation ahead wouldn’t be pleasant. Finally, she took a deep breath, grabbed the folder, and headed to the entrance.

Margaret opened the door, wearing a silk robe despite it being nearly noon. Seeing Jennifer, she forced a thin smile. “Jenny! What a surprise,” her voice lacked any warmth.

“Come in, I just brewed tea.” “Thanks, but I won’t stay long,” Jennifer stepped into the hallway but didn’t take off her shoes.

“I brought you some papers.” “Papers?” Margaret raised a plucked eyebrow. “What papers?” Jennifer opened the folder and handed her a copy of the notice.

“This is a formal notice of a rent increase starting next month. Please sign the second copy to confirm receipt.” Margaret skimmed the text.

Her face shifted: the smile faded, her lips tightened, her eyes narrowed. “What’s this nonsense?” she raised her voice.

“Rent at $1,200? Have you lost your mind?” “That’s the market rate for this apartment,” Jennifer said calmly. “I even discounted $200 for family.” “Market rate?” Margaret threw up her hands.

“I’m your mother-in-law. Grandmother to your kids. How dare you charge me for living here?” “The same way you charge others for your things,” Jennifer replied.

“You didn’t give away your car or TV when you sold your place. Why should I give away what’s mine?” “That’s different,” Margaret’s voice rose.

“We’re family. Family helps each other.” “I agree,” Jennifer nodded.

“And I hope you’ll help our family by paying fair rent. That money will go to your grandson’s treatment.” “There you go again,” Margaret rolled her eyes.

“Tommy looks perfectly healthy. Why waste money on unnecessary surgeries?” Jennifer felt fury rising. Margaret never took Tommy’s illness seriously, always dismissing it, accusing Jennifer of exaggerating.

Those words were the final straw. “Here’s the cardiologist’s report,” Jennifer pulled medical documents from the folder and placed them before Margaret.

“Do you think doctors schedule heart surgery for a healthy kid? Or maybe I made it all up to scam you?” Margaret didn’t even glance at the papers. “That’s not what I mean,” she pursed her lips. “It’s your attitude.

Charging your husband’s mother like this. What will people say?” “I don’t care what people say,” Jennifer snapped. “I care about my son’s health.

If you won’t pay market rent, you’ll need to find another place.” “You’re kicking me out?” Margaret stepped back, clutching her chest. “Throwing an old woman onto the street?”

“I’m giving you a choice,” Jennifer didn’t fall for the theatrics. “Pay fair rent or find another place. And I’m giving you a month to decide, though you promised two months and stayed three years.”

“Does David know about this?” Margaret went on the attack. “Or are you sneaking behind his back?” “David’s fully aware,” Jennifer lied without flinching. “We discussed it last night.”

“And he agreed?” Margaret’s voice dripped with doubt. “What do you think?” Jennifer dodged. “When it’s his son’s health versus his mother’s comfort, what’ll he choose?” Margaret stared at her, trying to gauge if she was bluffing.

Then her face twisted. “You’ve turned him against me,” she nearly shouted.

“Always trying to drive a wedge between a mother and son.” “Don’t dramatize,” Jennifer used Margaret’s favorite phrase.

“No one’s turning anyone against you. It’s time to handle the housing issue fairly. So, sign the notice.”

Margaret grabbed a pen with a trembling hand and scrawled her signature on the second copy. “I’ll talk to David,” she hissed. “We’ll see what he says when he hears how you’re treating me.”

“Please do,” Jennifer tucked the signed document into the folder. Her phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Jennifer stared at David’s name on the screen, hesitating. She knew what this call was about.

Margaret had likely already called her son, spinning her version of events with tears and accusations. Finally, she sighed and answered. “Yes,” she said neutrally…