**The Ugly Heiress**
*Diary Entry*
I was out in the garden with Nina when we heard the gate creak open. “Paul, lookis that Adrian?” Nina straightened up, brushing dirt from her hands.
“Its him. And hes got a big bag with him,” I said. We exchanged a knowing glance.
“Looks like his things. Did Emily finally kick him out? Serves him right, the philanderer.”
I wiped the soil from my handswed been planting seedlingsand went to meet my brother while Nina stayed back, watching. *Let Paul deal with him. Why should I run to greet that self-absorbed prat?* She barely had time to return to work before Adrian waved at her with a stiff, guilty smile. She waved back but thought, *Looks like a scolded cat. Mustve done something rotten and had nowhere else to goturning up here out of the blue.*
Our chat didnt last long. Adrian slunk inside while I returned to the garden.
“You were right, Nina,” I sighed. “Emily threw him out. But good luck getting the truth from himits always her fault, never his. But we know better. She mustve had enough.”
“And who could blame her?” Nina shook her head. “She put up with his drinking and tantrums for years. And he raised his hand to her more than once. Cant say I dont understandshe landed herself a man six years younger, handsome, and after five years with her first husband, she finally had a child with Adrian. No wonder she was afraid to lose him.”
“With her looks? You know what they called her at her old job?” I smirked. “The Wicked Witch!”
Ninas eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious. And shed laugh along with them.”
“A sense of humour helps, but not when your homes a battlefield,” Nina muttered.
…
I first met Emily at work. She was twenty-eight then, a dispatcher for a taxi firm, while I handled radio repairs. She was married to the firms young director, Max. Five years wed, no kids. Back then, I couldnt fathom why a charming bloke like Max had such a plain, brusque wife.
Then Adrian dropped by one dayEmilys birthday, coincidentally. Shed arranged a little office celebration. Max got called away, and Adrian, ever the charmer, had Emily in stitches with his jokes. I missed the exact moment the spark flew, but by March, she announced her divorce.
“Whats left for me in this marriage?” shed said. “My clocks ticking, and still no baby. I got checkedIm fine. Max refuses to see a doctor. Guess kids arent in his plans. Plus, hes fooling around. Everyone pities me*look at the Wicked Witch, what does he see in her?*”
When Adrian told us he was marrying her, our parents were thrilled. I was baffled.
“Whos the lucky girl?”
“Emily!” he beamed.
“But shes older, and”
“Ugly, you mean?” He shrugged. “Doesnt matter. Shes loaded. Her aunts a director at a design firmshes getting me a job there. Her mum and brother live in London, run their own business. They send her parcels every monthsocks, undies, even caviar! Her flats small but posh. And they wire her pounds for bills. Oh, and shes got a two-storey cottage outside town, garden and all. Weve been there. Shes an heiress, basically.”
“Fine, but do you even love her?”
“Course! Shes got a cracking sense of humour. And her cookings brilliant!”
What could we say to that?
They married soon after. When Emily found out she was pregnant, she was over the moon.
“I told Max it was him! Three months with Adrian, and boombaby on the way!”
Little Sophie was born healthy, doted on by everyone. At six months, Emily and Adrian started leaving her with Granny on weekends while they headed to the cottage. Big garden, loads of workthough Emily once confided in Nina that Adrian often dumped her there, claiming “work” in town. He had side gigs, always flush with cash.
By Sophies third birthday, the family gathered for a lavish celebrationimported treats, designer clothes for the little one, gifts from London. But Adrian kept sneaking off to take calls. Emily glared.
“Adrian, seriously? Who keeps ringing? Weve got guests!”
“Just work, nagging me,” hed mutter, avoiding her eyes.
Two years later, Adrian and Emily both worked at the design firmcushy jobs, good pay. Then Adrian announced a family trip to London.
“Her folks want to meet Sophieonly seen her on FaceTime. Emilys mum saved for three years to make it happen. And they *adore* me.” He preened.
The trip was a triumph. Adrian couldnt stop gushing.
“Her mum wouldnt leave me alone! *Adrian this, Adrian that.* Fed me till I gained three kilos!”
“Golden son-in-law,” Emily would say, ruffling his hair.
He dined out on those stories for months.
Then one Saturday, while cleaning, Nina heard the doorbell. Her mother-in-law answereda young woman with two little girls stood there. Nina peered through the window. *Charity collectors?* Too well-dressed. Five minutes of hushed talk, then they left. Her mother-in-law returned pale and shaken.
“Who was that?”
“Just… someone looking for a person.” She hurried off. Later, muffled arguing from the parents room.
Then Emily called me one Sunday.
“Paul, is Adrian there?”
“No…?”
“He left already? Must be on his way home. Hows the tap? Fixed the flood?”
“What tap?”
“Yesterday? You called, said a pipe burstAdrian raced over at five.”
“Right…” I floundered. Silence.
“I see,” she said flatly.
I rang Adrian straight after.
“If youre spinning lies, at least clue me in. Emily calledshes onto you. Where you were is your business, but howre you digging yourself out?”
Mum overheard.
“Paul, whats going on with Adrian and Emily?” She hesitated, then blurted, “Last week, LucyAdrians old flamecame by. With two little girls. Said theyre his. *Our granddaughters.*” She burst into tears. “Two families? Lying to Emily? And children! What happens now? If Emily finds out”
She did. Nosey neighbours filled her in. Adrian had been carrying on with Lucy *before* Emily, even fathered her kids.
“After everything my family gave you!” Emily screamed. “The job, the cottage, the car, the flat, the London trip! *Golden boy!* How do I tell my mother? Pack your things and *go.* Today! And find another jobIll make sure Auntie sacks you by tomorrow!”
“But where will I go, love? Forgive meI *love* you!”
“Youve got another family!”
“Lucys shacked up with some bloke now…”
“*Your* problem.”
…When Adrian slunk into our house with his bags, tail between his legs, I thought: *What a fool. Threw away a ready-made life for cheap thrillsleft with nothing but broken dreams.*
