**Diary Entry**
Ill never forget the evening Edward walked through the front door with that frail, grey-haired woman clinging to his arm.
*This is my real mother,* he declared. *Shell be staying with us.*
I froze, the wooden spoon still in my hand. The smell of beef stew filled the kitchen, the table was setand now this.
*Your real mother?* I barely managed to speak. *Edward, what are you talking about? Your mother passed ten years agowe buried her together.*
*That woman was my adoptive mother,* he replied, helping the stranger out of her coat. *This is Margaret Whitakermy birth mother. She gave me up to an orphanage.*
My legs turned to lead. Twenty-five years of marriage, and suddenly this.
*Sit down, Margaret,* Edward said, guiding her to the table. *Emily, fetch another plate.*
*Wait.* I set the spoon down. *Explain this to me first. Where has she been all this time? And why keep it a secret?*
*I only just found out myself,* he muttered, avoiding my eyes. *Margaret tracked me down through a tracing service. We met, talked. Shes got no onenowhere to live.*
*And where was she living before?* I asked, studying the woman.
Margaret stayed silent, twisting her hands in her lap. Her clothes were worn but clean, her face lined with exhaustion.
*A council flat,* Edward answered for her. *The new owners sold it. She was evicted. Its my duty to help her.*
*Your duty,* I repeated. *And you didnt think to discuss it with me? This is my home too.*
*Emily, dont be ridiculous,* he snapped. *Shes my mother. Youd deny an old woman shelter?*
I looked at himthe same man Id loved for decadesbut his expression was different now, as if I were an obstacle to his noble gesture.
*Fine,* I said finally. *Lets eat first. Then well talk.*
Dinner passed in suffocating silence. Margaret ate quietly, nodding thanks whenever Edward refilled her glass. I pushed the stew around my plate, trying to make sense of it all.
*How did you find Edward?* I asked her.
*An advert,* she whispered. *In the local paper. I remembered the surname they gave him at the orphanage. And his birthday.*
*Why now?*
She lowered her head. *Didnt want to die with regrets. Spent my whole life haunted by what I did.*
Edward squeezed her shoulder. *Its in the past. Weve found each other now.*
Watching them, my stomach knotted. It wasnt about the spare room or the foodsomething about her story felt off.
Later, as Edward showed Margaret around, I overheard him offering our daughters old room.
*Youll stay hereSophies moved out now.*
*Edward, I dont want to impose*
*Nonsense. Youre family.*
That night, I confronted him. *Are you certain shes your mother?*
*Of course,* he snapped. *Shes got papers from the orphanage.*
*Have you checked them? We should do a DNA test.*
He recoiled. *Emily, how could you? Shes a sick old woman!*
*I just want proof. There are so many scams these days.*
*Scams?* He scoffed. *Look at herwhat could she possibly steal? Shes here for her son, not money.*
But by morning, things got stranger. Food vanished faster. A tin of tea disappeared.
*Edward, I think shes hoarding things in her room.*
*Shes known hardshipits habit,* he dismissed.
Then my gold earrings went missing.
*They were on the dresser,* I said. *Now theyre gone.*
*You probably misplaced them,* he snapped.
But I knew I hadnt.
Then our neighbour, Mrs. Thompson, knocked. *Emily, I saw your guest leaving with a man earlier. Looked shady. She handed him something.*
When Edward returned, I told him.
*Shes lying,* he said flatly.
*Why would she?*
*Jealousy. Shes got no family of her own.*
Days later, my silver wedding bracelet vanished. Thats when I called our daughter.
Sophie arrived with her husband, Marka solicitor. *Mum, this sounds like a classic inheritance scam,* he said. *They target middle-aged men, study obituaries, and pose as long-lost relatives.*
*What do we do?*
*Check the orphanage records. Demand a DNA test.*
Edward refused, furious. *I wont humiliate her!*
So I went myself. The orphanage matron frowned at Margarets papers. *This isnt our letterhead. Weve no record of an Edward Whitaker.*
That evening, I placed the proof in Edwards hands.
*Shes a fraud.*
Margaret walked in, saw the documents, andjust like thather timid act dropped.
*So what?* she sneered. *We had a good run. You got to play the doting son.*
*Youre a con artist,* I said. *And a thief.*
She smirked. *Prove it. Your sweet husband even registered me at the council. Im legally staying.*
But she underestimated us. The police found her accomplicesa whole ring preying on vulnerable men.
Edward was wrecked with guilt. *Im sorry,* he whispered. *You were right.*
*Its over,* I said.
But the jewellery was never recovered.
