**Diary Entry 12th June**
«Clear out the flatIm getting married, and well be living here,» announced my husbands daughter from his first marriage.
«Mrs. Eleanor Parker, you forgot to sign your holiday request form. HR needs it by lunchtime.»
Eleanor looked up from her computer and smiled at her younger colleague. «Thanks, Emily. Ill pop down now.»
She set aside her work and headed to HR, thinking about her upcoming leave. Shed been dreaming of a seaside getaway, but her husband, David, insisted on a staycation at their countryside cottagewhy spend money when nature was free? Eleanor didnt argue. After eight years of marriage, shed learned to pick her battles.
Back at her desk, she noticed several missed calls from David. Oddhe never rang during work hours. She dialled back.
«Ellie, can you come home early today?» His voice was tense.
«Has something happened?»
«Victorias here. Says its important.»
VictoriaDavids daughter from his first marriage. Twenty-seven, living in Manchester, and only ever turned up when she needed something.
«Ill try for six.»
Eleanor left early, her mind uneasy. The three-bedroom flat in North London had been left to her by her parents. When she married David, she hadnt thought twice about prenups or legalities. Love and trust had been enough.
The moment she unlocked the door, muffled voices drifted from the sitting room. Victoria was mid-sentence, David murmuring agreement. Eleanor kicked off her heels and stepped in.
Victoria lounged on the sofa in a sleek dress, a well-dressed manMaxbeside her. An open bottle of champagne sat on the coffee table.
«Oh, Eleanor, finally,» Victoria said, eyeing her with cool appraisal. «Meet Max, my fiancé.»
«Pleasure,» Eleanor said, shaking his hand.
«Sit,» David gestured stiffly. «Victoria has something to discuss.»
Eleanor perched on the armchair, nerves coiling. Something was off.
«Hand over the flat. Were moving in after the wedding,» Victoria said bluntly.
Eleanor blinked. «Excuse me?»
«You heard me. Max and I need somewhere to live.»
«Victoria, this is Eleanors flat,» David said weakly.
«Dad, youve been on the lease eight years. That gives you rights. And Im your only childyour heir.»
Eleanors hands went cold. «David, what is this?»
He wouldnt meet her eyes, fiddling with a napkin. «Ellie, shes not entirely wrong. Maybe we should talk»
«Talk about *what*?» Eleanor stood. «This is *my* flat. My parents bought it. I grew up here.»
«But Dad has a claim,» Victoria pulled papers from her bag. «Ive spoken to a solicitor. Eight years of shared residence, bills in both namesa court could award him half.»
«Have you lost your mind?» Eleanor turned to David. «Say something!»
«Ellie, lets be reasonable. Victorias young, shes starting out. We could downsize»
Eleanor stared. The man shed trusted for eight years was calmly discussing evicting her.
«Mr. Parker,» Max cut in smoothly, «its the practical choice. A young couple needs space. Two people dont need three bedrooms.»
«And who are *you* to decide what we need?»
«Im Victorias future husband. That makes me family.»
«Youre nothing to me.»
«Eleanor, dont be rude,» Victoria snapped. «Maxs father owns a development firm.»
«Lovely. He can buy you a flat, then.»
«Why buy when we can take this one?» Victoria shrugged. «Dad, you *do* want me happy, dont you?»
«Of course, love.»
«Then talk some sense into her. Its your flat too.»
Eleanor pulled out her phone.
«What are you doing?» David asked sharply.
«Calling my solicitor. And I suggest you all leave.»
«Ellie, dont overreact» He reached for her, but she stepped back.
«Mr. Whitmore? Eleanor Parker here. I need an urgent consultation. Tomorrow morning? Perfect.»
She hung up and levelled them all with a look. «Now, get out.»
«This is *my* home,» David protested.
«No. Its *mine*. Youre here by my goodwill.»
«Dad has every right to stay,» Victoria stood. «And so do I, as his guest.»
«Victoria, Im asking you to leave. Or shall I call the police?»
«You wouldnt dare!»
«Try me.»
David floundered, glancing between them.
Eleanor grabbed her bag and left. Her hands shook as she dialled her best friend, Claire.
Claire took one look at her and poured wine. «Start talking.»
Over the bottle, Eleanor spilled it all. Claire sighed. «I *told* you to get a prenup.»
«Not helpful.»
«Fine. Whats the plan?»
«Solicitor first. Then… I dont know. Divorce, probably.»
«And wheres David going to go? Hes got no property.»
«Not my problem.»
David called twice that evening. She ignored him.
The next morning, Mr. Whitmorea sharp-eyed man in his sixtieslistened intently.
«Mrs. Parker, relax. The flats yours. Pre-marital asset, no claim.»
«But the lease»
«Means nothing. At most, he gets a month to vacate if you divorce.»
Relief flooded her.
Back at work, Davids texts piled up. She didnt reply.
That evening, she returned to find Victoria rifling through papers in the sitting room.
«What are you doing here?»
«Dad gave me a key. Checking out *my* new place.»
«Get. Out.»
«Make me.»
Eleanor dialled 999. Victoria paled and fled.
David packed a bag that night, shoulders slumped. «Ill stay with a mate.»
«Fine.»
«Youre really divorcing me?»
«Yes.»
A pause. «Shes my daughter, Ellie.»
«And I was your *wife*.»
He left. The flat felt hollow but peaceful.
A week later, Maxs mother, Mrs. Harrington, called. «Victoria lied about the pregnancy. Theyve split. Max is in Paris now.»
«Figures.»
The divorce was swift. David didnt fight it.
Then came Nicholasthe new IT consultant at work. Quiet, bookish, with a dry wit. Over coffee, he asked, «Divorced?»
«Recently.»
«Same. Five years ago.»
They took it slowwalks, films, easy conversation.
Then, one afternoon in Hyde Park, they bumped into David and Victoria. Awkward hellos were exchanged.
«Ex-husband?» Nicholas guessed later.
«Yes.»
«And the flat-stealing daughter?»
«Claire talks too much.»
He grinned. «Im glad you divorced.»
«Why?»
«Or wed never have met.»
That night, flipping through old wedding photos, Eleanor realised: eight years of good moments, but when tested, David had failed. She hadnt.
Her phone buzzed. Nicholas: *Dinner tomorrow?*
She smiled. Life went on.
**Lesson learned:** Trust is precious, but so is knowing your worth. Sometimes a door slams shut so a better one can open.
