**The Illusion of Deception**
Working at the Royal Academy of Music, Eleanor had little interest in anything but music. It had been her whole life since childhoodher mother and the piano. At twenty-eight, she was unmarried, having briefly dated a colleague, but their paths divergedtoo complicated when both were talented, each lost in their own world.
Three months ago, she met Oliver, a solicitor. They crossed paths in a café near the academy where she often sat, unwilling to return home. Her mother had passed recently, and the flat felt too silent, too empty.
“You look troubled,” Oliver had said, watching her over his coffee. “My names Oliver. And yours?”
She was beautiful, distantintriguing. He decided to introduce himself.
“Eleanor,” she replied softly, offering a faint smile.
They began seeing each other. Soon, Oliver stayed over often, even proposing. But she hesitated.
“I cant say yes yet, Ollie. Not so soon after Mum.”
Her mother had raised her alone. Eleanor never knew her fatherwho he was, where hed gone. She never asked; she sensed the topic pained her mother. Then, suddenly, her mother was gone. The grief and loneliness pressed down on her. More than once, she wonderedshould she try to find him?
“I dont even know how I feel about it,” she confessed to Oliver. “Ive never met him. What if he doesnt want to know me?”
Eleanor had lived sheltered, absorbed in music, oblivious to practical matters. Bills, paperworkher mother handled it all.
“At least learn how things work,” her mother had urged. “What will you do when Im gone?”
“You manage everything so well,” Eleanor would laugh. “Why should I bother?”
Life, however, was cruel and unpredictable. Her mother fell ill suddenly, fading before Eleanor could grasp it. The doctors could only shrug.
“It was too late when she came to us.”
“But she never complained,” Eleanor whispered through tears.
“Perhaps she didnt want to worry you,” the doctor said gently. “But the body always gives signs.”
Oliver was sharp. The first time he entered Eleanors flat, he was struckexpensive paintings lined the walls, though she paid them no mind. Shed grown up with them. But Oliver recognised their value.
Evenings, she practiced, preparing for performances while Oliver pretended to listen. Hed already realised Eleanor had assets worth pursuing. Rifling through her mothers documents, he found lettersher only relative was Aunt Margaret, who lived in Scotland. So he pressed for marriage, knowing Eleanor was the sole heir.
Her hesitation frustrated him. She barely knew him, and something in her hesitatedwas he truly the one? But Oliver persisted, waiting, insisting. He knew she wanted to find her father.
One evening, he announced, “Were having guests tonight. Lets pick up champagne on the way.”
“Guests?” Eleanor blinked.
“Ive found your father.”
“Oliverreally? Here, in London? I always imagined hed be far awayabroad, even.”
“Hes here.”
Half an hour after they returned home, the doorbell rang. Oliver answered. A tall, dark-haired man stood there.
“My daughter,” he breathed, pulling Eleanor into an embrace. “Ive never seen you. Youre beautiful. Robert Whitmorethats my name.”
Her middle name *was* Roberta.
They talked for hours. “Your mother and I parted ways,” Robert said. “She never told me about you.”
Seizing the moment, Oliver interjected, “Robert, given this reunion, may I ask for Eleanors hand?”
Still reeling, Eleanor froze.
“If Oliver loves you, Ive no objection,” Robert smiled. “You have my blessing.”
From then on, Robert visited often. Yet, Eleanor learned little about his past with her motherhe claimed their relationship had been brief.
She sent a wedding invitation to Aunt Margaret, who arrived early, eager to help. One evening, the doorbell rang.
“Goodness, the train was dreadful,” Margaret sighed, embracing Eleanor.
Oliver left that night, letting Eleanor catch up with family.
“Aunt Margaret, I found my fatherwell, Oliver did.”
“Whats his name?”
“Robert Whitmore. My middle names Roberta.”
Margaret exchanged a glance with her husband. “Trouble, Alex,” she murmured. He nodded grimly.
“What trouble?” Eleanor asked.
“Your fathers name isnt Robert. Its JamesJames Holloway. Theres no father listed on your birth certificate. Your mother invented the middle name. Eleanor, I know everything. She made me swear never to tell. Your father is James Hollowaydean of the Royal College of Music, where you studied.”
“James Holloway? Butthats my old music professor! Then who is Robert?”
“Thats what we must ask Oliver,” Margaret said sharply. “Why this charade? And Eleanoryou havent claimed your inheritance yet. Six months after your mothers death, the estate settles.”
“Inheritance? Just the flat, surely”
“Good Lord, child,” Margaret sighed. “Your grandparents left us comfortably off. Those paintings alone are worth a fortune. And with no children of our own, everything will go to you.”
Eleanor cancelled the wedding. Shed been naïve, but now she sawOlivers haste, his schemes.
“Aunt Margaret, does James know about me?”
“No. His mother orchestrated it all. She arranged a suitable match for him, split him from your mother. By the time your mother knew she was pregnant, James had already married another womana lie his mother fabricated. He loved your mother, but when he later saw her with a child, he assumed shed moved on. She never told him.”
“That night, Oliver returned to a shockhis belongings packed, the wedding off. Before Margaret and Alex, he didnt dare argue. He knew hed been caught.
“I feel lighter,” Eleanor admitted. “Something always felt wrong with Oliver.”
The next evening, Margaret greeted her with a smile. “We have a guest.”
“Who now?” Eleanor asked warily.
Margaret answered the door herself, returning with James Holloway.
“My God,” he murmured, eyes glistening. “You look just like me. Eleanor, I never knew. Margaret told me everything.”
They talked late into the night. James had a sona soldier, stationed abroad.
“But you, Eleanoryou followed my path. Youre brilliant. My son never took to music, but youyou have the gift.”
“I always wondered where it came from,” she laughed. “Your genes, Dad.”
From then on, they visited her mothers grave together. James introduced his wife, Claire, who welcomed Eleanor warmly. Later, she met her brother when he came home on leave.
A year later, Eleanor married William, an economics lecturer at the universitythe son of Jamess old friend. Theyd fallen in love at first sight.
Margaret and Alex beamed at the wedding. William was steady, reliableeverything Oliver hadnt been.
**Lesson learned:** Lifes illusions often hide the sharpest truths. Trust takes time, and greed wears many disguises. But in the end, whats real will always find its way to you.
