Chapter 2 - The Photograph Hidden in the Locked Drawer
The photograph was old.
That was the first thing I noticed.
The edges were worn.
The colors had faded.
And yet Alessandro Duca held it like it was the most dangerous thing in his office.
I stood frozen several feet away, unable to move.
My daughter was still sitting on the marble floor, completely unaware that the room had changed.
She reached for the same black tie she had grabbed moments earlier.
But Alessandro didn’t look at her anymore.
He looked at the photograph.
Then at me.
Then back at the photograph.
“Where did you get this?” I asked.
My voice sounded smaller than I wanted.
He didn’t answer.
That scared me more than anything.
Because Alessandro Duca always had an answer.
He was the kind of man who could walk into a negotiation and make an entire room silent without saying a word.
But now he was silent.
Because of a picture.
I took one slow step forward.
“Mr. Duca…”
His fingers tightened around the photograph.
“Your daughter.”
My heart stopped.
“What about her?”
His eyes lifted.
“Who is her father?”
The question hit me harder than I expected.
I looked at Luna.
Then back at him.
“I don’t know.”
The room became colder.
Alessandro studied my face.
“You don’t know?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
It was the truth.
The truth I had carried alone for eight months.
The truth I had never told anyone.
Not because I wanted to hide something.
Because I had no choice.
Luna’s father disappeared before she was born.
He left behind promises.
Then silence.
Then nothing.
I learned very quickly that promises meant nothing when you were standing alone with a newborn baby.
“I never asked for anything from him,” I whispered.
Alessandro placed the photograph on his desk.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like it could break.
“Look at this.”
I didn’t want to.
Something inside me told me not to.
But I walked closer.
The photograph showed a young woman holding a baby.
A baby wrapped in a pale pink blanket.
My breathing stopped.
Because the blanket was familiar.
Too familiar.
I had seen it before.
I had touched it.
I had kept it in a small box beneath my bed for months.
The same blanket Luna had used since the day she was born.
“How do you have this?” I asked.
Alessandro’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
A crack in the wall he had built around himself.
“This picture was taken twenty-seven years ago.”
I frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
I looked at the baby in the picture.
Then at Luna.
“She looks like her.”
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Alessandro noticed.
“You see it too.”
I swallowed.
I didn’t want to admit it.
But I did.
The baby in the photograph had the same small eyes.
The same round cheeks.
The same tiny hand reaching toward the camera.
It was impossible.
It made no sense.
Unless there was something I didn’t know.
Alessandro walked back toward his desk.
“Who gave you this job?”
The sudden question confused me.
“What?”
“Answer me.”
I hesitated.
“The agency.”
“Name.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Name.”
His voice became sharper.
“Please.”
That one word surprised me.
Because it wasn’t a command.
It was a warning.
“The agency was called Silverline Staffing.”
Alessandro’s face changed.
I watched the realization appear.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
He looked away.
Like he was remembering something painful.
“What?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he walked to the window.
The city lights reflected against the glass.
“Do you know what happened twenty-seven years ago?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“A woman working for my family disappeared.”
My eyebrows tightened.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“She was a maid.”
The word hung between us.
A maid.
Like me.
My stomach twisted.
“She disappeared with a baby.”
I stared at him.
“What are you saying?”
Alessandro turned around.
His eyes were no longer cold.
They were searching.
“I’m saying someone brought you into this building for a reason.”
My hands tightened around my uniform.
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
The answer came too quickly.
Too defensively.
Because I knew fear.
I knew what it felt like when powerful people started asking questions about your life.
People like Alessandro didn’t search for answers unless those answers mattered.
“I came here to work,” I said.
“I believe you.”
That surprised me.
“You do?”
He looked at Luna.
“Yes.”
The simplicity of his answer confused me.
After everything I had done.
After breaking every rule.
After hiding a baby inside his building.
He believed me.
Before I could respond, Luna made a small sound.
Both of us looked down.
She had crawled closer.
She grabbed Alessandro’s pant leg.
The feared man in the city looked down at the child holding onto him.
And something impossible happened.
He smiled.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
A real smile.
Not the controlled expression he showed businessmen.
Not the cold look everyone feared.
Something human.
Then his phone rang.
The smile disappeared.
He answered.
“Yes.”
The person on the other end spoke quickly.
His expression hardened.
“What do you mean she’s gone?”
I froze.
She?
Who was gone?
Alessandro looked directly at me.
“There was someone watching the building.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“Security found evidence that someone entered the lower floors tonight.”
I held Luna closer.
“But nobody saw anyone.”
“That’s the problem.”
Silence.
Then Alessandro looked at the photograph again.
“The person who entered wasn’t trying to get inside.”
He paused.
“They were trying to find something.”
I felt a terrible feeling growing inside me.
“What?”
His eyes moved to the broken maid badge.
Then to me.
Then to Luna.
“You.”
The word barely left his mouth.
My chest tightened.
“Why would anyone look for me?”
Alessandro didn’t answer immediately.
Because he already knew.
And somehow, that scared me more.
He walked toward the desk and picked up another item from the drawer.
A small envelope.
Old.
Yellowed.
My name was written on the front.
Not my full name.
Just one word.
Elena.
I stared at it.
“I’ve never seen that before.”
“I know.”
“Then why does it have my name?”
Alessandro opened the envelope.
Inside was a single piece of paper.
He read it.
His face went completely still.
“Mr. Duca?”
He didn’t move.
“Alessandro?”
That was the first time I said his name.
He looked at me.
And for the first time, I saw something close to fear in his eyes.
Because whatever was written on that paper wasn’t about my job.
It wasn’t about the baby.
It wasn’t even about the missing woman from twenty-seven years ago.
It was about him.
He handed me the paper.
My fingers shook as I read the first line.
“If Alessandro Duca ever meets Elena Marlow, tell him the child is the proof he was never supposed to find.”
I looked up.
“What does this mean?”
Alessandro didn’t answer.
Because his phone suddenly lit up again.
A new message appeared.
One sentence.
One name.
His face turned pale.
May you like
The message was from an unknown number.
“She knows the truth. Open the basement door before midnight.”
