**The Illusion of Deception**
Working at the Royal Academy of Music, Emily had never been interested in anything but music. Since childhood, her world had revolved around her mother and the piano. At twenty-eight, she was unmarried, having briefly dated a fellow musician before they drifted aparttoo much talent, too many separate worlds.
Then, three months ago, she met Oliver, a solicitor, in a café near the academy. She hadnt wanted to go home after her mothers funeral; the house was too quiet, too lonely.
“Excuse me, miss,” Oliver had said, watching her from his table, you look so sad. My names Oliver. May I join you?”
She was beautiful, distantintriguing.
“Emily,” she replied softly, offering a faint smile.
They began seeing each other. Soon, Oliver was staying over often, even proposing marriage. But she hesitated.
“I cant say yes yet,” she admitted. “Ive just buried my mother.”
Her mother had raised her alone. Emily had never known her fatherno name, no story. She never asked, sensing it was a painful subject. Now, grief and loneliness weighed on her. Part of her wondered: should she try to find him?
“I dont even know how I feel about it,” she confided in Oliver. “What if he doesnt want to see me?”
Emily had always lived in her music, oblivious to practical matters. Bills, paperworkher mother handled everything, often chiding her:
“Emily, you must learn these things. What will you do when Im gone? Youre too detached from the real world.”
“But you manage everything so well,” Emily would laugh.
Life, however, was cruel and unpredictable. Her mother fell ill suddenly, fading before the doctors could help.
“She never complained,” Emily wept.
“Perhaps she didnt want to worry you,” the doctor said gently. “But the body always gives signs.”
Oliver was clever. The first time he visited her London flat, he was taken abackexpensive paintings lined the walls, though Emily paid them no mind. Shed grown up with them. But Oliver recognized their worth.
In the evenings, Emily practised for her next performance while Oliver listenedor pretended to. Hed long since realized there was money here. He sifted through her mothers documents, finding only a distant aunt in Scotland. He resolved to marry Emily quickly; she was the sole heir.
Her reluctance frustrated him. She barely knew him, unsure if he was right for her. But Oliver persisted, pressing for marriage. Then, he saw his chanceshe wanted to find her father.
One evening, he announced: “Were expecting guests tonight. Lets pick up champagne on the way.”
“Guests?” Emily frowned.
“Ive found your father.”
“Oliver, really? Where? I always imagined he lived abroad”
“Here. In London.”
Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. Oliver answered, and Emily saw a tall, dark-haired man.
“My daughter,” he rushed forward, embracing her. “Youre beautiful. Im Richard Wilson.”
Her middle name was indeed Wilson.
“Your mother and I parted ways, but she never told me she was expecting,” Richard explained.
Oliver seized the moment. “Mr. Wilson, under the circumstances, may I ask for Emilys hand?”
Emily, still reeling, froze.
“If Oliver loves you, Ive no objection,” Richard smiled. “You have my blessing.”
Richard became a regular visitor, though vague about his past with Emilys mother. “We were together only briefly,” hed say.
Emily sent a wedding invitation to her aunt Margaret and her husband. They arrived early, eager to help with preparations.
One evening, the doorbell rang. Emily opened it, delighted.
“Goodness, the train was dreadful,” Margaret sighed.
Oliver excused himself, leaving Emily with her family.
“Aunt Margaret, I found my fatherwell, Oliver did.”
“Whats his name?”
“Richard Wilson my middle name.”
Margaret exchanged a glance with her husband. “Oh, Emily”
“Whats wrong?”
“Your father isnt Richard. Hes James. James Hartley. Theres no father listed on your birth certificateyour mother invented the middle name. James was the dean of your conservatoire.”
“James Hartley? Buthe was my professor! Then who is Richard?”
“Thats what we must ask Oliver. Why this charade? Have you inherited yet? The six-month waiting period ends soon.”
“No, I havent gone to the solicitor just the flat, really”
“Emily, you sweet fool. Your mother was wealthy. These paintings are originals. Our parents left us a fortune, divided equally. Youre not just inheriting a flat. And weve no childrenyoull have ours too.”
Emily had never considered money. Now, Margarets words made sense: Olivers haste, the sudden father.
“Aunt Margaret, does James know about me?”
“No. His mother arranged a suitable match for him. When your mother and James quarrelled, she didnt yet know she was pregnant. James married someone elsea lie about a pregnancy. Later, he saw your mother with a child and assumed shed moved on. She never told him. As for Richard, well deal with Oliver.”
Emily felt a pang. “James handed me my diploma never knowing.”
That evening, Oliver returned to packed bags. With Margaret present, he didnt argue. The game was up.
Surprisingly, Emily felt relief. “Something always felt off,” she admitted.
The next evening, Margaret announced a guest.
“Who now?” Emily asked warily.
“Youll see.”
The doorbell rang. Margaret returned, arm in arm with James Hartley.
“My God,” James breathed. “You look just like me. Forgive meI never knew.”
They talked late into the night. Emily learned of a half-brother in the military, of Jamess pride in her talent.
“Its your genes,” she laughed. “I wondered why I loved music so much.”
A year later, Emily married Daniel, an economics lecturer and the son of Jamess old friend. Margaret approvedsteady, kind.
As they toasted, Emily realized: lifes illusions fade, but truth brings peace.
