**The Illusion of Deception**
Working at the Royal Academy of Music, Eleanor had never been interested in anything but music. It had been her 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 and lost in their own worlds.
For the past three months, though, she had been seeing Oliver, a solicitor. They met by chance at a café near the academy. She hadnt wanted to go homeher mother had recently passed, leaving the house silent and lonely.
«You look awfully sad,» Oliver had said, approaching her as he sipped his tea. «My names Oliver. And yours?»
She was beautiful, yet distantintriguing enough for him to strike up a conversation.
«Eleanor,» she replied softly, offering a faint smile.
Since then, theyd grown closer. Oliver often stayed over and had even proposed, but she hesitated.
«I cant give you an answer yet, Ollie. My mothers only just gone.»
Her mother had raised her alone. Eleanor had never known her fatherwho he was, where hed gone. Shed never asked, sensing her mothers discomfort. Then, suddenly, her mother was gone. The grief weighed on her, stirring thoughts of finding her father.
«I dont even know if I should,» she confessed to Oliver. «What if he doesnt want to see me?»
Eleanor had lived shielded from practical mattersbills, paperwork, all handled by her mother while she immersed herself in music. Her mother had warned her:
«Ellie, you ought to learn how things work. What will you do when Im gone? Youre too dreamy for your own good.»
«But you manage everything so well! Why should I bother?» Eleanor had laughed.
Life, however, was cruel and unpredictable. Her mother fell ill unexpectedly, fading quickly. The doctors could only shrug.
«It was too late by the time she came to us.»
«But she never complained!» Eleanor had wept.
«Perhaps she didnt want to worry you,» the doctor replied. «Still, there must have been signs. The body always gives warnings.»
Oliver was sharp. The first time he visited her flat, hed been taken abackexpensive paintings adorned the walls, though Eleanor had never paid them any mind. Shed grown up with them. But Oliver knew their worth.
Evenings were spent with Eleanor practising for concerts while Oliver listenedor pretended to. Hed long since realised there was money to be had. He rummaged through documents, letters from her mother. Her only relative was an aunt, Beatrice, who lived in Scotland. So he pressed for marriage, knowing Eleanor was the sole heir.
Her reluctance frustrated him. She barely knew him, and doubts nagged at her. But Oliver persisted, waiting, insisting. He knew she wanted to find her father.
One evening, Oliver met her with news.
«We have guests tonight. Lets stop by the shop for champagne.»
«Guests? Who?»
«Ive found your father.»
«Oliver, really? Where? I always imagined him abroad or somewhere far.»
«He lives right here in London.»
Half an hour after they returned home, the doorbell rang. Oliver answered. Eleanor saw a tall, dark-haired man.
«My daughter,» he rushed to embrace her. «I never thought Id see you. Youre beautiful. Edward Whitmorethats my name.»
Eleanors middle name was indeed Edwards. The evening unfolded with stories.
«Your mother and I parted ways, but she never told me about you.»
Seizing the moment, Oliver interjected.
«Edward, since fates brought us together, may I ask for Eleanors hand?»
Stunned, Eleanor froze.
«If Oliver loves you, Ive no objections,» Edward said, smiling. «You have my blessing. Just send me the wedding invite.»
From then on, Edward visited often. Yet details about her parents past remained vaguehe claimed their relationship had been brief.
Eleanor sent an invitation to Aunt Beatrice and her husband. They arrived early, eager to help with preparations. One evening, the doorbell rang.
«Goodness, what a journey!» Beatrice exclaimed. «The train was packed!»
Oliver left shortly after, giving Eleanor time with her family.
«Aunt Beatrice, I found my fatherwell, Oliver did.»
«Whats his name?»
«Edward Whitmore. My middle names Edwards, so it fits.»
Beatrice exchanged a glance with her husband.
«Weve got trouble, Ellie.»
«Trouble?»
«Your fathers name isnt Edward. Its WilliamWilliam Hartley. The space for father on your birth certificate was left blank. Your mother invented the middle name. Ellie, I know the truthshe made me swear never to tell. Your father is William Hartley, dean of the music college where you studied.»
«William Hartley? Thats impossible! He was my piano professor. Then whos Edward?»
«Thats what we need to ask Oliver. Why the charade? AndEllie, have you claimed your inheritance? Its been nearly six months.»
«Not yet. Just the flat, really…»
«Oh, Ellie, youre too naïve! Your grandparents were wealthy. Your mother had a sizable account, those paintings are priceless. Beatrice and I inherited equally from our parents. Youre not some penniless orphan. Check the will. Andweve no children. Everything we have will go to you.»
She cancelled the wedding.
Eleanor had been blind to it all. Now, with Beatrices revelations, she wondered why Oliver had rushed the proposal.
«Aunt Beatrice, does William know about me?»
«No. His mothers to blame. She arranged a suitable match for him, splitting him from your mother. When they quarrelled, your mother didnt know she was pregnant. William married another womantricked into believing she carried his child. Later, he remarried. I know he loved your mother, but when he saw her with a baby, he assumed shed moved on. She never told him. As for Edwardwell deal with Oliver tomorrow.»
«William handed me my diploma. He never knew I was his daughter.»
That evening, Oliver faced an unpleasant surprise. Eleanor had packed his things. With Beatrice and her husband present, he left without protest, knowing hed been exposed. Eleanor felt only relief.
«Something always felt off with Oliver,» she admitted.
The next day, returning from work, Beatrice greeted her excitedly.
«Weve a guest tonight.»
«Who now?»
«Youll see.»
The doorbell rang. Beatrice returned, arm in arm with William Hartley. Eleanor stood frozen.
«My God, you look just like me,» the music professor said, arms outstretched. «Forgive me, Ellie. I never knew. Beatrice told me everything.»
They talked late into the night. Eleanor learned of a half-brotherWilliams only son, an army officer stationed abroad.
«Only you inherited my love for music. Im so proud of you.»
«And I always wondered where I got it!» Eleanor laughed. «Now I knowits your genes, Dad.»
From then on, they visited her mothers grave together. William introduced her to his wife, Margaret, a kind woman, and later, her brother when he returned on leave.
A year later, Eleanor married Daniel, the son of Williams old friend. Hed fallen for her at first sightan economics lecturer, steady and dependable.
Beatrice and her husband attended, delighted with their nieces choice. At last, Eleanor had found her placeand the truth had set her free.
