Emily finally fell asleep just before dawn. When she opened her eyes, the room was bathed in sunlight, and William stood by her bed, smiling.
“I waited all night for you. Where were you?”
“Don’t worry, love, see? Nothing happened to me. Get ready, we’ll go out for breakfast,” William said.
Outside, the air was warm with the promise of summer.
“Fancy an ice cream?” Without waiting for an answer, William walked to the kiosk and bought Emily’s favorite—vanilla in a waffle cone.
“You’re in a good mood. Did you win at cards?” Emily asked, licking the top of her cone.
“Guess again. I’ve got an idea. And I’ll need your help to pull it off.”
“But you never take me with you. What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing. Just be there. But if you don’t want to, I can manage alone.”
“No, I’ll go with you,” Emily agreed hastily.
“I knew you would. You can start picking out a white dress,” William said with a smirk, his tone indulgent.
“Really? Are you proposing?” she gasped, nearly dropping her ice cream.
No woman had ever dared hint at marriage with William—but Emily was different. She had become his lucky charm. A year ago, he’d rescued her from three thugs.
Emily had lived with her mother in a small town. After her father left, her mother started drinking. Things worsened when she brought a man home who eyed Emily with unmistakable interest. One night, he tried forcing himself into her bed. Terrified, she fled, boarding a train to London with nothing but the clothes on her back.
No money, no family—what could she do? Where could she go? Her lost expression caught the attention of a gang at the station, always hunting for easy prey. Things might have ended badly if William hadn’t stepped in, scattering them with a few well-placed threats. From that moment, they were inseparable.
Emily fell for him—tall, strong, well-dressed, with a disarming smile that made people trust him instantly. He never lied about his shady dealings but kept her far from them.
They sat on a bench by the river. The ice cream melted quickly in the sun, the soggy cone dripping onto Emily’s dress.
“Blast it!” She jumped up, holding the cone away.
“Just toss it,” William said lazily, squinting like a contented cat.
She threw the ruined cone in the bin and licked the sticky mess from her hand. *Still such a child*, William thought fondly.
“It’s a foolproof plan, but every detail matters. No mistakes. A man with a fiancée is more believable than a man alone.”
“A fiancée?” Emily repeated, sitting back down.
“You *are* my fiancée.” William draped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him.
“Yesterday, I heard about this batty old woman. No family—her husband died years ago, and her son was killed in action. She keeps forgetting he’s gone and waits for him every evening. Wears a ring she never takes off. Bet she’s got more treasures lying around. Her husband wasn’t exactly a pauper.”
“You want to steal her jewelry?” Emily guessed.
“No need for a mess. She’ll hand it over willingly. We’ll visit as her long-lost grandson and his bride. Your job? Make her *want* to gift you her sparkles for the wedding.”
William had principles—cheating rich politicians was one thing, but this felt different. Emily hesitated.
“Buy a modest dress—something she’ll like,” William added, oblivious to her unease.
“What if she realizes you’re not her grandson? You don’t even look like her son.”
“Her memory’s shot, and she hasn’t seen him in years.”
Two days later, they stood before an iron door on the third floor of an old brick building. William gave Emily a final approving glance—her simple dress and demure expression were perfect. He, as always, was impeccably dressed and charming.
“Keep quiet, yeah?”
Emily nodded.
The door creaked open, revealing a petite elderly woman in a vintage lace-collared dress. Her silver hair was pinned back with a black bow clip.
“Can I help you?” she asked, squinting slightly.
“Yes, if you’re Margaret Elizabeth Whitmore. This may sound strange, but I’m your grandson,” William said solemnly.
“I don’t understand… My son never married. You must be mistaken.”
“May we come in?” William flashed his irresistible smile. It never failed.
“Of course.” Margaret stepped aside.
William walked in, eyeing a framed photo of a young man in military uniform.
“Mum has a different picture—him as a cadet,” he said, turning back.
“I still don’t—”
“I’m from Manchester. Your son trained there, didn’t he? Mum met him months before graduation. When he left, she found out she was pregnant. No letters, no calls… She thought he abandoned her. Only recently did she tell me the truth. I found you, learned about his heroic death—”
Margaret gasped, sinking into a chair as tears welled.
“Oh, my James…”
“Mum named me James too.”
Emily watched, awed. William’s lies were so convincing she nearly believed them. Margaret, too, was under his spell. She brought out an album, sharing photos of her son from infancy.
Emily blinked back tears. *What if I’d had a father like that? A grandmother like her?* Her mother wouldn’t have drowned in drink, wouldn’t have let strangers into their home. She noticed William barely glanced at the photos—of course. This wasn’t his family. He was here for the money.
A sickening realization hit her: she didn’t want this. How could they deceive a grieving old woman? William caught her expression and narrowed his eyes.
“Tea? You must be tired,” Margaret fretted.
“Our hotel has our things. We’re only here a few days,” William—now James—said.
“Nonsense! My grandson won’t stay in a hotel.”
“Work calls, Gran. I’m her only family now. And the wedding’s soon—so much to do! You’ll come to our wedding, won’t you?”
“Oh, if only James had lived to meet you… And your mother?”
“Remarried, then divorced. She thought he’d abandoned her.” William deftly painted his fictional father as flawed but redeemable—and himself as deserving of love.
Margaret bustled off to make tea.
“You’re doing great,” William whispered. “The ring on her finger? Get her to show you the rest.”
Over tea, Margaret reminisced about her son. William spun tales of his fictional life in Manchester.
“Were you a teacher?” Emily asked suddenly.
“Yes! Forty years at St. Mary’s—English literature.”
“You remind me of my old teacher. She wore a big green ring too, and sometimes this round brooch with a blue stone and little white gems around it. I always admired it.”
“My husband gave me this ring. The stone… Oh, I forget the name. But this—” She left and returned with a brooch. “Like so?”
William’s eyes gleamed. “May I?” His hands trembled as he took it.
“It’s heavy—I rarely wear it. But this is for you.” She handed Emily a diamond ring. “For your wedding, dear.”
“I couldn’t—”
“Take it,” Margaret insisted. William’s glare brooked no refusal.
Emily slid it on—a perfect fit. “Thank you. I’ll never take it off,” she whispered, tears spilling.
*See? This is just the start*, William’s look said.
Later, while Margaret napped, William frisked the apartment. Emily hid the jewels in a shoebox.
“She’ll give us everything. Easy money,” William gloated that night.
Guilt gnawed at Emily. At midnight, they tiptoed out—only for Margaret to appear like a specter in the hall.
“Leaving so soon?”
“We didn’t mean to wake you. Last-minute train tickets,” William lied smoothly. “You’ll come to the wedding, won’t you?”
He stepped forward, but Emily blocked him, sensing danger. “Please. She won’t tell anyone.”
William struck her—hard. She reeled, saved from falling by Margaret’s steadying grip.
“Give me the money, old woman,” William snarled.
Margaret returned with a heavy envelope.
“Take it and go.”
“Three grand? Not bad. You’ll keep quiet, right?” William pocketed it and left.
Margaret tended to Emily’s bruised face. “I knew you were frauds. My James would never abandon anyone.”
Emily confessed everything—her past, the hidden jewels.
“Stay with me,” Margaret said firmly. “You’re a good girl who lost her way.”
Emily did. She enrolled in college, working at the local school library. Every shadow made her flinch, but William never returned.
Years later, she called her motherShe hung up the phone, knowing some wounds never heal, but as she turned to see Margaret knitting by the fire, she realized kindness could rewrite even the darkest stories.
