**The Illusion of Deception**
Working at the Royal Academy of Music, Emily had little interest in anything beyond her piano. Music had been her life since childhoodher mother and her art. At twenty-eight, she was unmarried, having once dated a fellow musician, but their paths diverged. It was too complicated, two artists lost in their own worlds.
Lately, though, shed been seeing James, a solicitor. Theyd met by chance in a café near the academy. She hadnt wanted to go homeher mother had passed recently, leaving the house silent and empty.
«Hello, miss,» hed said, sliding into the seat across from her. «You look awfully down. Im James, and you?»
Shed been beautiful, distant. Hed decided to take his chance.
«Emily,» she murmured softly, offering a faint smile.
Theyd been together ever since. James often stayed over, even proposed once, but she hesitated.
«I cant give you an answer yet, Jamie. Not so soon after losing Mum.»
Her mother had raised her alone. Emily had never known her fatherwho he was, where hed gone, shed never asked. The subject seemed painful, so shed left it untouched. Now, with her mother gone, loneliness pressed in. She wondered, for the first time, if she should try to find him.
«I dont even know what to think,» she confessed to James. «Ive never met him. What if he doesnt want to know me?»
Emily had never handled practical mattersher mother managed everything while she immersed herself in music. Her mother had warned her once:
«Emily, love, you ought to learn these things. What will you do when Im gone? Youre too dreamy for your own good.»
«But you handle everything so well,» Emily had laughed. «Why should I bother?»
Life, however, was cruel. Her mother fell ill suddenly, fading before the doctors could act.
«It was too late when she came to us,» theyd said.
«But she never complained!»
«Perhaps she didnt want to worry you. Still, there must have been signsthe body always gives warnings.»
James was sharp. The first time hed visited her flat, hed been taken aback by the expensive paintings on the wallsthough Emily paid them no mind, having grown up with them. He, however, recognised their worth.
In the evenings, she practised for her next concert while he pretended to listen. Hed already realised there was profit to be had. He sifted through her mothers documents, letters. Her only living relative was an aunt, Margaret, who lived in Scotland. So he pushed for marriage, knowing Emily was the sole heir.
Her reluctance frustrated him. They hadnt known each other long, and doubts lingered in her heart. Still, he persisted, waiting, insisting. He knew she wanted to find her father.
One evening, James met her with news.
«Weve got guests tonight. Lets pick up some champagne.»
«Guests? Who?»
«I found your father.»
«Jamie, really? Where? I always imagined he lived abroadsomewhere far.»
«Oh no, hes right here in London.»
Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. James answered, ushering in a tall, dark-haired man.
«My girl,» he cried, embracing her. «Let me look at you. Youre beautiful.»
«Robert Davies,» he introduced himself.
Her middle name *was* Roberta.
They talked late into the night.
«Your mother and I parted ways, but she never told me about you.»
James seized the moment.
«Robert, since fates brought us together, may I ask for Emilys hand?»
Emily, still reeling, froze.
«If James loves you, Ive no objection,» Robert smiled. «You have my blessing.»
From then on, Robert visited often, though Emily learned little about his past with her mother. He claimed their affair had been brief.
She sent a wedding invitation to Aunt Margaret and her husband. They arrived early, eager to help with preparations.
One evening, the doorbell chimed.
«Goodness, what a journey!» Margaret sighed as Emily let them in. «The train was packed.»
They met James, who excused himself, leaving Emily to catch up with family.
«Aunt Margaret, I found my fatherwell, James did.»
«Whats his name?»
«Robert Davies. My middle names Roberta, after all.»
Margaret exchanged a glance with her husband.
«Oh dear,» she murmured.
«Whats wrong?»
«Your fathers name isnt Robert. Its WilliamWilliam Hart. Your birth certificate lists no father. Your mother invented your middle name. She didnt want you to know the truth. Your real father is William Hart, head of the Royal College of Music*your* professor.»
«William? Butthats impossible! Then who is Robert?»
«Thats what we need to ask James. Why the charade? And Emilyhave you claimed your inheritance yet? Its been nearly six months.»
«No, Ive not seen the solicitor. Just the flat, really»
«Good Lord, child! Your grandparents were well-off. Your mother had substantial savings, and these paintings are originals. When our parents died, they split everything between us. Youre not some penniless orphan! Andsince weve no children, everything we have will go to you.»
Emily cancelled the wedding.
Shed been naive, never questioning finances. Now, with Margarets revelation, she wonderedwhy had James rushed the proposal?
«Does William know about me?»
«No. His mother orchestrated their split. Shed arranged a better match for him. By the time your mother realised she was pregnant, hed already married another womanwho lied about a pregnancy. Later, he remarried. He *loved* your mother, but when he saw her with a child, he assumed shed moved on. She never told him. As for Robert? Well ask James.»
«William handed me my diploma. He never guessed I was his daughter.»
That evening, James returned to a shockhis belongings packed, the wedding off. Under Margarets watchful eye, he left without protest. Robert vanished too.
«I feel relieved,» Emily admitted. «Something always felt wrong.»
The next evening, Margaret announced a guest before the doorbell rang.
«Who now?» Emily asked warily.
«Youll see.»
Margaret returned, leading in William Hart.
«My God,» he breathed. «You look just like me. Forgive meI never knew. Margaret told me everything.»
They talked for hours. She learned of a half-brother, an army officer stationed abroad.
«Only you inherited my love for music,» William said warmly. «Im so proud of you.»
«I always wondered where it came from,» she laughed.
From then on, they visited her mothers grave together. He introduced her to his wife, Catherine, who welcomed her kindly. Later, she met her brother on leave.
A year later, Emily married Daniel, the son of Williams old friend. He taught economics at the university and had fallen for her instantly.
Margaret and her husband attended, pleased with her choicesteady, reliable.
*Sometimes what seems like fate is merely a test. The truth, however painful, sets you free. At the reception, Emily played a sonata on the grand pianoa piece her mother had taught her, and now one her father cherished. As the final note faded, she looked out at the faces she loved, no longer haunted by absence, but filled with the quiet joy of belonging. The music had always been her compass; now, at last, she understood why.
