Duplicity
This is my first foray into the other, creative aspect of literature. Comments and criticism, constructive or otherwise, will be appreciated. Hey - I hate being ignored. Yes Anonymous poster, I'm looking a t you.
I believe in writing what I either know well or can imagine vividly, so there isn't any sex in here, sorry.
Chapter 1
It had been an enormously stressful day at the office and I walked into our home - built by my grandfather - wanting nothing more than ice cold lager and a restful hour or two in my favorite lounger.
The owner of the company of which I have been CEO for 4 years, Mrs. Agnes Mitchell, had died aged 65 the night before. Too young by far, the cancer she had been fighting for more than 10 years had finally gotten the best of this admired and liked - no loved - 'old' lady.
Due to a birth defect she had been childless and, knowing that she would never bear an heir, had never married; rather pitting her considerable strengths into building the small engineering company her father had started into an international behemoth.
Until 15 years ago her much younger brother had been an equal, energetic and enthusiastic partner in this venture; when one morning he had stepped out of the window of his seventeenth floor office and fallen to the pavement below without uttering a sound.
Full ownership had fallen to her, her brother having named her his main beneficiary; merely leaving his wife and young child their house, car, smallish checking account and a few insurance policies that did not pay much, as expected following a suicide. Attached to the will was a request for Agnes to act with these relatives 'as she saw fit'.
Through the vicissitudes of fortune suffered by her widowed sister-in-law, Marla, following the suicide and; if the overly ardent gossips in the little town were to be believed, Marla's subsequent misspending, the house was sold within a year and the two ended up living with Agnes in the big old house on Main Street. The son, Bradley, a handsome, quick witted and a well-liked little hellion all-round, grew up as the apple of Agnes' eye and being spoilt by both women.
As I walked into the house, I was rather surprise to see said hellion - whom I detest for various reasons although have always thought I hid this well - sitting snugly in the lounge with my wife of 5 years, Carol.
Snugly being very nearly intimate.
"Peter, we need to talk." twittered Carol excitedly while Brad smiled broadly, neither offering up a greeting of any kind.
Yes, this was really happening. Not even good fiction, but bad reality.
