Chapter 8: "The Photo"
332 Words
Aria wasn’t snooping.
She was dropping off files.
Damian’s office door was cracked. He was in a meeting.
On his desk, half-hidden under contracts, was a photo frame.
She only glanced.
And froze.
It was Damian. Younger. Smiling.
Arm around a woman.
The woman had Aria’s eyes.
Aria’s hair.
Aria’s smile.
Same face. Different name.
Aria’s hands shook. She dropped the files.
The sound made her jump.
The meeting door opened.
Damian. And two board members.
His eyes went straight to the photo. Then to her.
Cold.
“Wait outside,” he told the board members.
They left. Door closed.
“What are you doing in here?” His voice was quiet. Dangerous.
“Delivering files,” Aria whispered. “I... I saw the photo.”
Damian picked it up. Stared at it.
For a second, his mask slipped. Pain.
“Who is she?” Aria asked.
Damian didn’t answer. He put the frame in a drawer. Locked it.
“You don’t get to ask that,” he said.
“Then why does she look like me??”
Her voice cracked. “Damian. Tell me the truth.”
He stepped closer. “The truth is, you signed a contract.”
“The truth is, you get paid, your mom gets treatment, and you don’t ask questions.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” he said. “It’s a warning.”
He opened the door. “Go home, Aria.”
She didn’t move. “Is that why you chose me? Because I look like her?”
Damian’s jaw clenched.
“Go. Home.”
Aria left. Tears she refused to shed burning.
That night, the penthouse was silent.
No soup. No note.
Just an empty bed and 49 weeks left.
At 3AM, her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Text: _Stop digging into Damian’s past. You won’t like what you find. - S_
Who was S?
Aria looked at the ceiling.
She signed up for money.
She didn’t sign up for ghosts.
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- Writer
