**The Illusion of Deception**
Working at the Royal Academy of Music, Emily had little interest in anything beyond her music. It had been her life since childhoodjust her mother and the piano. At twenty-eight, she was unmarried, having briefly dated a colleague, but their paths divergedtoo difficult when both were talented, each lost in their own world.
Yet for the past three months, she had been seeing James, a solicitor. They met by chance in a café near the academy. She hadnt wanted to go homeher mother had recently passed, leaving only silence and solitude.
“You look terribly sad,” James had said, approaching her as he sipped his coffee. “Im James. And you?”
She was beautiful, distanthe decided to take his chance.
“Emily,” she replied softly, offering a faint smile.
They had been together since. James often stayed over, even proposing, but she hesitated.
“I cant say yes yet, Jamie Ive only just lost Mum.”
Her mother had raised her alone. Emily had never met her fatherwho he was or where hed gone, she never asked. She sensed it pained her mother to speak of him. And now, grief weighed on her. Thoughts circledshould she try to find him?
“I dont even know how I feel about it,” she confessed to James. “Ive never met him. What if he doesnt want me?”
Emily had lived sheltered, absorbed in music, oblivious to bills or household matters. Her mother had warned her:
“Emily, love, you must learn these things. What will you do when Im gone? Youre too dreamylife will be hard for you.”
“But you manage everything perfectly. Why should I bother?” shed laugh.
Life, however, was cruel. Her mother fell ill suddenly, gone before the doctors could help.
“She never complained,” Emily wept.
“Perhaps she didnt want to worry you,” the doctor replied. “But there are always signs. The body warns us.”
James was sharp. The first time he visited her flat, he was taken abackthe walls were lined with expensive paintings, though Emily paid them no mind. Shed grown up with them. But James knew their worth.
Evenings, Emily played the piano, preparing for recitals, while James listenedor pretended to. He had already realised there was much to gain. Rifling through her mothers documents, he found no close relativesjust an aunt, Margaret, in Scotland. He resolved to marry Emily quicklyshe was the sole heir.
Her reluctance frustrated him. She barely knew him, her heart uncertain. But James persisted, pressing his suit, aware she longed to find her father.
One evening, he arrived with news.
“We have guests tonight. Lets pick up champagne on the way.”
“Guests?”
“I found your father.”
“Jamie, really? Here in London? I always imagined him abroad.”
“Yes. He lives here.”
Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. James answered. Emily saw a tall, dark-haired man.
“My girl,” he rushed to embrace her. “Ive never seen you. Youre beautiful. Robert Parkermy name.”
Her middle name *was* Roberta. They talked.
“Your mother and I parted waysshe never told me about you.”
Seizing the moment, James interjected:
“Robert, since fate has brought us together, may I ask for Emilys hand?”
Still reeling, Emily faltered.
“If James loves you, Ive no objection,” Robert smiled. “You have my blessing.”
Robert became a regular visitor, though he revealed little about his past with Emilys motherjust that it had been brief.
Emily sent a wedding invitation to Aunt Margaret and her husband. They arrived early, eager to helpMargaret stepping in for her late sister.
One evening, the doorbell chimed.
“Goodness, that train was endless,” Margaret sighed, embracing Emily.
James excused himself, leaving Emily with her family. Over tea, she confessed:
“Aunt Margaret, Ive found my fatherwell, James did.”
“Whats his name?”
“Robert Parker my middle names Roberta.”
Margaret exchanged a glance with her husband.
“Oh dear,” she murmured.
“Whats wrong?”
“Your fathers name isnt Robert. Its Jonathan. Jonathan Harris. Your mother invented the middle nameshe never wanted you to know. Your father is Jonathan Harris, the dean of your conservatoire.”
“*Jonathan Harris?* Butthats my old professor! Then who is Robert?”
“Thats what well ask James tomorrow. Why this charade? Andhave you claimed your inheritance yet? Its been nearly six months.”
“No, Ill see the solicitor but its just the flat, surely.”
“Emily, you sweet fool. Your grandparents were wealthy. Your mother had substantial savings, those paintings are priceless. And with no children of our own, everything we have will go to you.”
She called off the wedding.
Emily had been blind to it all. Now, with Margarets revelations, she wondered why James had been in such a hurry.
“Aunt Margaret does my father know about me?”
“No. His mother orchestrated it. She arranged a better match for him. When your mother and Jonathan quarrelled, she didnt yet know she was pregnant. By the time she did, hed married another womanwho lied about carrying his child. He loved your mother, but when he saw her with a baby, he assumed shed moved on. She never told him the truth.”
“That day he handed me my diploma he had no idea I was his daughter.”
James returned to a cold welcome. Emily had packed his things. Under Margarets stern gaze, he left without protest. Robert vanished too.
“I feel relieved,” Emily admitted. “Something always felt off with James.”
The next evening, Margaret greeted her with a smile.
“We have a guest.”
“Who now?”
“Youll see.”
The doorbell rang. Margaret returned, arm in arm with Jonathan Harris.
“My God,” he breathed. “You look just like me. Forgive meI never knew.”
They talked late into the night. Emily learned of a half-brother, a soldier stationed overseas.
“Only you inherited my love for music,” Jonathan said warmly. “Im so proud of you.”
“And I always wondered where it came from!” she laughed.
In time, Jonathan introduced her to his wife, Gracekind and welcomingand later, her brother on leave.
A year later, Emily married William, an economics lecturer. The son of Jonathans oldest friend, hed fallen for her at first sight.
Margaret and her husband beamed at the wedding. William was steady, dependableeverything James had not been.
