The moment I stepped into the house, I knew something was wrong. The air felt… off. The usual soft padding of paws, the excited little meows that always greeted me at the door—gone. Silence wrapped around me, heavy and suffocating. Then, the faint scent of my mother-in-law’s perfume hit me like a warning.
My heart pounded as I scanned the living room. John, my husband, was sprawled on the couch, lazily scrolling through his phone, looking utterly unbothered.
“Where’s Benji?” I asked, already dreading the answer.
John barely glanced up. “No idea. Maybe he ran off.”
A cold wave of fear crashed over me. Benji never “ran off.” He was an indoor cat, terrified of the outside world. Something wasn’t right.
That’s when I saw her. Carol. Sitting at the dining table, sipping her coffee with a smug little smirk. The moment our eyes met, I knew.
“What did you do?” My voice was low, dangerous.
Carol set her cup down, her expression calm—too calm. “I did what had to be done,” she said smoothly. “You’re finally free from that disgusting animal.”
The room tilted slightly. My fingers clenched into fists as I forced myself to stay still. “Excuse me?”
“You’re 32, Frances,” she continued, her voice dripping with condescension. “It’s time to grow up. Enough with the ridiculous attachment to a cat. You should be focusing on starting a real family, not wasting your time on a furball.”
I turned to John, who was still pretending to be engrossed in his phone. “And you just let this happen?” My voice cracked with disbelief.
He shrugged. “Mom’s got a point.”
My world tilted again, this time threatening to shatter. Benji wasn’t just a cat. He was my comfort, my family, the one thing that had kept me afloat after my father’s death. And they had taken him from me.
I was about to demand answers when a flicker of movement outside caught my eye. Lisa, my neighbor, was standing in my yard, waving frantically. She pointed toward her house and mouthed something.
My instincts kicked in. “I’ll be right back,” I told Carol, my voice eerily calm. “And when I return, you’d better be ready to explain exactly what you did.”
I stepped outside, barely holding myself together. Lisa rushed toward me, her face tight with urgency.
“I saw your mother-in-law with Benji yesterday,” she blurted out, holding up her phone. “And I think you need to see this.”
I stared at the screen. My stomach lurched.
There he was. My Benji. Held in the arms of a woman I despised.
Samantha.
My high school tormentor.
My breath came in short, sharp bursts as I read the caption beneath her beaming selfie: “Meet the newest addition to the family! Sometimes the perfect pet just falls into your lap. #blessed #newcatmom.”
A scream built in my throat, but Lisa wasn’t finished. She swiped to a video.
“I followed Carol,” she admitted. “Something felt… off.”
The video played. Carol’s car pulled up to Samantha’s pristine townhouse. My mother-in-law stepped out, a smug grin plastered on her face, and handed over Benji’s carrier. Samantha took it, cooing over him like she hadn’t spent her teenage years making my life a living hell.
I sucked in a breath. “Lisa, you’re a lifesaver.”
She squeezed my arm. “Go get him.”
I stormed back inside, fire in my veins. Carol and John barely looked up. They were too busy whispering, probably convincing themselves they’d done the right thing.
“Samantha?” I spat, throwing the name like a dagger. “That’s who you gave my cat to?”
Carol’s smirk faltered. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Save it.” I pulled up Lisa’s video, holding my phone out for them to see. “I have proof. Now tell me, what was your plan? Did you pick Samantha just to twist the knife deeper?”
John finally looked up, eyes wide. “Frances, calm down.”
I laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “You want me to calm down? You let your mother steal my cat and give him away without even telling me. And you want me to calm down?”
Carol folded her arms. “It’s just a cat.”
“No. It’s my cat,” I snapped. “And I’m going to get him back. When I return, I want you both gone.”
John’s mouth fell open. “Wait—what?”
I didn’t give him a chance to argue. I grabbed my keys and stormed out the door.
Samantha’s townhouse sat in a gated community across town. It was annoyingly perfect, just like she had always pretended to be. I knocked, my hands shaking—not with fear, but with rage.
The door swung open. She stood there, dressed in overpriced athleisure, her blonde hair bouncing in perfect waves. The second she saw me, her face twisted into a sneer.
“Well, well,” she drawled. “If it isn’t ‘Frances No-Chances.’ Here to congratulate me on my new pet?”
The old nickname stung, but I refused to let her see it. I squared my shoulders. “Give me my cat.”
She leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “He was a gift. No backsies.”
My grip tightened on my phone. “That ‘gift’ was stolen property. He’s microchipped in my name. And I have a video of the theft. So unless you want the police involved, I suggest you hand him over.”
Her smirk faltered. “You wouldn’t.”
I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “Oh, I would. And while we’re at it, maybe I’ll post a little story about our high school days. Remember homecoming? How you and your friends shredded my dress? The constant bullying? I have proof of all of it. Let’s see how well that plays with your followers.”
Her face drained of color. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
A long, tense silence stretched between us. Then, without a word, she disappeared inside. When she returned, Benji was in her arms, his green eyes wide with confusion.
The moment she placed him in my arms, I felt my body relax for the first time that day. His soft purr vibrated against my chest, grounding me.
“Smart choice,” I murmured.
I turned on my heel and walked away.
Back home, I stepped inside, holding Benji close. John and Carol were still there, mid-argument, their voices hushed.
Carol spotted me first. “How dare you—”
“No,” I cut her off. “How dare you.” I set Benji down and crossed my arms. “I told you to leave.”
John’s face paled. “Frances, let’s talk about this.”
“I want a divorce.”
Carol gasped. “You ungrateful—”
“I have evidence of your theft,” I said, glaring at her. “Leave now, or I call the police.”
“You can’t do that!” Carol shrieked. “This is our house!”
I smiled. “Actually, it’s mine. John’s credit was too awful for the mortgage, remember? The deed is in my name.”
Carol turned to her son, eyes wide with betrayal. “You lied to me?”
John sputtered. “Mom, I—”
“And you might want to stop sending him money,” I added. “Because he’s been gambling it away.”
John’s face turned red. “Frances!”
I cocked my head. “Should I mention the club by the airport, or will you leave voluntarily?”
Carol grabbed her son’s arm. “We’re going.”
And just like that, they were gone.
For the first time in years, my house felt peaceful. I scooped Benji up, inhaling his familiar scent, and smiled.
I grabbed my phone and dialed my lawyer.
Then, I sent Lisa a text: Drinks on me tonight. You just helped me take out the trash.
0 Comments