Chapter 1 Illusion (Rory's Theory)

I stepped into my father's study, the soft glow of the moon casting an eerie light on the room. The clock on the mantle struck nine, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. My father, Reginald Thompson, stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his eyes fixed on the darkness outside. I could sense the tension in his body, the way his shoulders were stiff and his jaw clenched.

"Rory, darling, I've been looking for you," he said, turning to face me. His voice was smooth, but I could detect the undercurrent of tension. "Your mother is anxious to begin preparations for the Worthington's ball. It's imperative that we make a strong impression."

I nodded, my mind racing ahead to the challenges that lay ahead. I knew that the Worthington's ball was more than just a social event – it was a calculated maneuver in the game of high-stakes politics and business. My family's influence and wealth were at stake, and I was expected to play my part to perfection.

As I looked at my father, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. There was something he wasn't telling me, something that lurked beneath the surface of his polished exterior. I searched his eyes, but they gave nothing away.

"Yes, Father," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make sure to be ready."

My father's gaze lingered on me for a moment, and then he nodded. "Good. I'll have your mother send up the dressmaker to help you get ready."

I nodded again, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. But as I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of something in my father's eyes – a flicker of worry, of concern. It was gone in an instant, but it left me with a sense of unease that lingered long after I left the study.

As I walked back to my room, the unease settled in the pit of my stomach, refusing to be shaken off. I couldn't help but wonder what was bothering my father, what secrets he was keeping hidden behind his polished exterior.

I pushed open the door to my room, and my maid, Emma, looked up from where she was busy laying out my clothes for the evening. "Miss Rory, your mother has sent up the dressmaker to help you get ready for the ball," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I nodded, trying to muster up some enthusiasm, but my mind was still preoccupied with my father's strange behavior. As Emma helped me into my dress, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off, that there was more to this evening than met the eye.

Just as I was starting to feel like I was getting ready for a night of normalcy, a knock at the door interrupted us. Emma answered it, and I heard the sound of my mother's voice, low and urgent.

"Rory, darling, I need to speak with you for a moment," she said, her eyes scanning the room before settling on me.

I felt a shiver run down my spine as I nodded, my heart racing with anticipation. What did my mother want to talk to me about? And why did she look so worried?

My mother's eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the concern etched on her face. She glanced at Emma, who was still busy adjusting my dress, and then back at me. "Emma, dear, could you give us a moment?" she asked, her voice low and dismissive.

Emma nodded and quickly curtsied before exiting the room, leaving my mother and me alone. My mother's eyes scanned the room once more, as if she was checking for any hidden listeners, before she turned her attention back to me.

"Rory, darling, I need to talk to you about something," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Something important."

I felt a shiver run down my spine as I nodded, my heart racing with anticipation. What could be so important that my mother needed to speak with me in secret?

My mother took a deep breath before continuing. "You know that your father's business has been... struggling lately," she said, her voice hesitant. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Her eyes moved around the room, as if searching for an escape from the conversation. "There have been some... setbacks," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Investments that didn't pay off, deals that fell through. Your father has be-been... preoccupied, trying to find a way to recover." The tension in her body was palpable, her shoulders stiff and her hands clenched into fists.

I nodded, my mind racing with the implications. My father's business was the backbone of our family's wealth and influence. If it was struggling as she said , it could mean disaster for our family.

"Well, darling, your father has been... negotiating with some people to try and secure our family's future," my mother continued, her eyes locked onto mine.

I felt a surge of unease at her words. What kind of people was my father negotiating with? And what did they want in return for their help?

My mother's eyes seemed to bore into mine, as if she was trying to convey a message without saying the words out loud. "Rory, darling, I need you to be careful tonight," she said, her voice low and urgent. "There will surely be... people at the ball who will be watching you, waiting for you to make a mistake."

I felt a chill run down my spine as I nodded, my mind racing with questions. What kind of people would be watching me? And what did they want from me?

My mother's eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the fear lurking in their depths. "Just be careful, darling," she whispered, before turning and hurrying out of the room, leaving me with more questions than answers.