Chapter 2 - The Photograph That Should Not Exist
The photograph was still on Damian Costa’s desk when I walked into the mansion the next morning.
I did not know it yet.
I did not know that my face had been printed inside a private investigation file.
I did not know that the man watching me through hidden cameras had finally stopped seeing me as an employee.
He was looking at me as a threat.
Damian sat alone inside his underground surveillance room.
The walls around him were covered with screens.
Every corner of his estate.
Every hallway.
Every entrance.
Every person.
But the screen he watched was different this time.
It showed me.
Sofia Bennett.
Walking through the kitchen with a tray of coffee.
Damian stared at the monitor without blinking.
On his desk was the old photograph from the library.
A younger version of himself stood beside a woman holding a baby.
The woman was Elena Marquez.
His former assistant.
The woman who disappeared twenty years ago.
The woman everyone told him was dead.
And standing beside her in the photo was a little girl.
A little girl with the same birthmark on her wrist that Sofia had.
Damian picked up another file.
My employee record.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
A fake address.
A short employment history.
No family records.
No childhood information.
It was like someone had erased my entire life before I became a maid.
Damian hated mysteries.
Because mysteries usually meant someone was lying.
He pressed a button on the desk.
A security guard appeared on the monitor.
"Find everything about Sofia Bennett," Damian ordered.
The guard hesitated.
"Sir, we already checked her background."
Damian looked at the screen.
"No."
His voice became colder.
"You checked what someone wanted you to find."
The guard remained silent.
Damian leaned back.
"Find what they tried to hide."
I spent the morning cleaning the east wing of the mansion.
The place felt different.
Before, I thought the silence came from the size of the house.
Now I understood.
The silence came from fear.
Everyone who worked there knew something.
The guards.
The house manager.
The other employees.
They all carried the same expression.
Like they were waiting for something terrible to happen.
While cleaning one of the guest rooms, I noticed a small camera hidden inside a decorative lamp.
I froze.
For a moment, I thought about pretending I had not seen it.
But then I remembered the photograph.
Trust nobody here.
Someone had left that message for a reason.
I slowly walked toward the lamp.
I looked directly into the camera.
For three seconds, I said nothing.
Then I whispered:
"I know you're watching."
Deep inside the mansion, Damian watched my face appear on the monitor.
His expression changed.
Most people became nervous when they discovered cameras.
They avoided looking at them.
They became afraid.
But I looked directly into his eyes.
Through the screen.
Through the distance.
Like I knew exactly who was behind it.
Damian stood up.
For the first time in years, someone inside his mansion had challenged him.
Not with money.
Not with power.
With confidence.
"Interesting," he whispered.
That afternoon, Damian did something he rarely did.
He left the surveillance room.
The employees noticed immediately.
The billionaire who normally watched from shadows was walking through his own house.
Everyone became nervous.
The guards straightened.
The workers lowered their heads.
But I continued cleaning.
When Damian entered the hallway, I knew who he was.
Everyone knew.
He was impossible to miss.
The expensive clothes.
The cold expression.
The confidence of someone who had never been told no.
He stopped a few feet away from me.
"You found something in the library yesterday."
It was not a question.
I slowly placed the cleaning cloth down.
"I found an old photograph."
Damian studied me.
"What else?"
I looked at him.
"Why does a dead woman’s handwriting appear inside your house?"
For a second, his expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
That was enough.
Damian Costa was hiding something.
"Who told you she was dead?"
The question surprised me.
I stayed quiet.
Because I realized something.
He never said the woman’s name.
He never asked who I meant.
He already knew.
"You know exactly who I found," I said.
Damian stepped closer.
The hallway suddenly felt smaller.
"Tell me who you are, Sofia."
I looked away.
Because that was the question I had been asking myself for years.
My mother died when I was young.
She left behind almost nothing.
A few clothes.
A small box.
And one warning.
Never go looking for the Costa family.
At the time, I thought it was a strange thing for a dying woman to say.
Now I understood.
It was a warning.
"I came here because I needed a job," I answered.
Damian did not believe me.
"No one accidentally walks into my house and finds a twenty-year-old secret."
I looked back at him.
"Maybe your house wanted someone to find it."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Damian’s phone rang.
He answered.
A few seconds later, his face changed.
The security team had found something.
"Sir," the voice said through the phone.
"We searched Sofia Bennett’s records."
Damian looked at me.
"And?"
The guard hesitated.
"Her real identity doesn't exist."
The hallway became silent.
Damian tightened his grip on the phone.
"What does that mean?"
The answer came slowly.
"It means Sofia Bennett was created twelve years ago."
My heart stopped.
Because I knew that was impossible.
I had lived that life.
I remembered my childhood.
I remembered my mother.
I remembered everything.
But Damian’s expression told me something worse.
Someone had rewritten my entire existence.
That night, I returned to my small room inside the employee quarters.
I closed the door.
Locked it.
Then I opened the old box my mother left me.
I had carried it for years.
I never opened it because I was afraid of what I might find.
But after everything that happened, I needed answers.
Inside were old documents.
A necklace.
And a folded piece of paper.
My hands shook as I opened it.
The handwriting was my mother’s.
Only one sentence was written.
"If Damian Costa ever finds you, tell him the truth before they do."
I stared at the words.
Before who?
Before who would find me?
Suddenly, my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
I opened it.
A photograph appeared.
It was taken inside the Costa mansion.
It showed me sleeping in my room.
Someone had been inside.
Under the photograph was a sentence.
"Stop searching, Sofia."
Another message arrived.
"You don't know who your father is."
I froze.
Because I had never told anyone that I spent my entire life wondering about my father.
Then the third message appeared.
A name.
A name I had never seen before.
But Damian Costa had.
The message said:
"Ask Damian why he buried Elena Marquez alive."
I dropped the phone.
Because behind me...
May you like
the locked bedroom door slowly moved.
Someone was turning the handle from the outside.
