I stared at the screen, a cold, calculating smile spreading across my face. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing the answer that would start what was about to happen.
‘Great, Linda,’ I whispered to myself. ‘If you want to play games, let’s play games. The real game is just beginning!’
But as I began to plan my next move, something wasn’t coming together. Linda prided herself on her frugality, always going on about her perfect budget. But every time I saw her, she had something new – a designer handbag, a new piece of jewellery or the latest kitchen gadget.
The maths didn’t add up. If she was really sticking to her rules – 50 per cent of the money to Matt, 25 per cent for groceries and 25 per cent for gifts – how could she afford all these luxuries?
Curiosity got the best of me, so I decided to dig deeper. One evening, while Matt was taking a shower, I glanced at his desk in his office. That’s when I noticed it… a small black notepad sticking out from under a stack of papers. I remembered Linda writing something down in a notebook like that during one of her budgeting ‘lessons’.
For a moment I hesitated. But then I remembered Linda’s smug face as she lectured me on financial priorities, and I decided I had every right to know the truth.
I grabbed my notebook, and when I opened it, my suspicions were confirmed. Linda had kept a detailed record of her personal expenses – designer purchases, credit card payments and, most shockingly, money borrowed from relatives to cover her excessive spending.
My stomach twisted as I went through page after page of reckless spending. The self-proclaimed ‘budget expert’ was nothing more than a fraud.
IDEAL. It was exactly what I needed to put my plan into action.
When I wasn’t peeking, I kept going. ‘Matt, can you believe how lucky we are to have your mum’s guidance?’ I said over dinner. He grinned, ignoring the storm brewing beneath my smile.
By the end of the week, I was ready for the next step.
Friday night Matt came home with Linda in tow. She walked into our living room holding a folder as if she was about to present the quarterly profit and loss report.
‘Honey,’ she said with a patronising smile, ’I hope you’re ready for a comprehensive financial review.
Matt nodded, as if all this nonsense made sense.
‘Sit down. Sit down.’ interrupted Linda, her tone intolerant of objection.
She opened her folder and began listing numbers, explaining how she distributed my salary. ‘Of course, fifty per cent goes to Matt for personal expenses,’ she said, casting me a reproachful glance.
‘Because obviously,’ I muttered to myself, ’I’m just an ATM with legs.
‘Twenty-five per cent goes to…,’ she continued.
‘Oh, Linda! Before we go any further,’ I said, interrupting her, ’I think we need to talk about something.
Linda’s perfectly groomed eyebrow arched. ‘What is it exactly?’
I reached under the coffee table and pulled out my folder. ‘THIS.’
I held it out to Matt, who started flipping through the pages. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked through the documents: credit card statements, delinquency notices, and screenshots of Linda’s extravagant online purchases.
‘Mum,’ he said, his voice shaking with disbelief, ’what does all this mean?’
Linda’s face changed…first with shock, then with rage. ‘How dare you poke around in my private affairs!’ – she hissed, her composure crumbling like cheap glass.
‘Oh, I dare,’ I replied coldly. ‘You wanted to control my finances. I thought it would be fair to look after yours.’
The silence that followed was electric, charged with the potential for an imminent explosion. Linda jumped up from the couch, her hands trembling. ‘You’re trying to turn my son against me!’
‘No, Linda,’ I said, standing my ground, ’you did this to yourself.
Matt looked between us, confusion and guilt written all over his face. ‘Mum… how could you…?’
‘How dare you question your mother?’ Linda’s voice rose hysterically. ‘After all I’ve done for this family! I sacrificed…’
‘Sacrificed?’ I interrupted, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. ‘You sacrificed nothing except your son’s ability to think for himself.’
Linda’s face contorted with rage and humiliation. ‘You think you know everything? You know nothing about my family!’
‘You’re right!’ I replied. ‘I knew nothing about your family, but now that I realise exactly what I’m dealing with, you’re in for a little surprise!’
Linda’s face turned as red as a beetroot when the notification arrived on her phone. I opened a new bank account in my name and discreetly transferred my salary back from the joint account. A message from the bank popped up on the screen.
‘You can’t…’ – she began to protest, her voice rising in panic.
‘Oh, but I absolutely can,’ I interrupted, my voice calm and razor sharp. ‘It’s my money!’ The finality of my tone left no room for argument.
Linda grabbed her folder and ran out of the flat, muttering to herself, clicking her heels furiously on the floor.