Chapter 1: The Wedding Photograph

Amelia Carter almost dropped her coffee when she saw the photograph inside the package.

It was a wedding picture.

A beautiful bride stood beside a handsome man in a black suit, smiling as he held her waist. The bride wore an expensive white gown, her dark hair styled elegantly, and a diamond necklace rested against her chest.

Amelia recognized the bride immediately.

It was her.

She turned the photograph over, expecting to find someone's name or perhaps a message explaining the strange joke.

Instead, she found three handwritten words.

Happy Third Anniversary, Wife.

Her fingers tightened around the photograph.

"What on earth is this?"

She examined the picture again. The man standing beside her was unfamiliar, but his face was remarkably clear. He had dark hair, sharp features and an expression that suggested he was accustomed to getting whatever he wanted.

Amelia had never met him.

At least, she didn't remember meeting him.

She checked the package for a sender's address, but there was nothing. Only her name and apartment number had been written neatly on the front.

Her best friend, Sophie, entered the living room carrying a shopping bag.

"Why are you standing there like you've seen a ghost?"

Amelia quickly turned toward her.

"Sophie, come and look at this."

Sophie placed the bag on the sofa and collected the photograph. Her expression changed almost immediately.

For several seconds, she stared at it without speaking.

"Where did you get this?" she finally asked.

"It arrived this morning. Do you know the man?"

Sophie looked at her again.

"Amelia, are you sure you don't know him?"

"That's exactly what I'm asking you. Who is he?"

Sophie returned the photograph, pretending to examine the writing on the back.

"I have no idea. Maybe someone sent it to the wrong address."

Amelia frowned.

"How can someone send a wedding photograph of me to the wrong address? Look at the date. This was taken three years ago."

Sophie picked up her shopping bag.

"Maybe someone is trying to play a prank. You should throw it away."

But Amelia noticed something strange about her friend's behaviour. Sophie had suddenly become unusually interested in arranging the groceries, avoiding her eyes whenever she mentioned the photograph.

"Have you seen this man before?" Amelia asked.

"No."

"Then why are you behaving strangely?"

Sophie forced a smile.

"Because you're frightening yourself over a photograph. Come on, you're going to be late for work."

Amelia wanted to question her further, but her phone began ringing.

It was her office.

She placed the photograph inside her handbag and hurried out.

---

By eleven that morning, Amelia had almost forgotten about the mysterious package.

She was reviewing a client's advertising proposal when her phone rang again.

This time, the number was unfamiliar.

"Hello?"

"Amelia?"

The deep male voice sounded strangely familiar, although she couldn't explain why.

"Who's speaking?"

There was a brief silence.

"It's been three years, and you still don't recognize my voice?"

Amelia sat upright.

"Excuse me?"

A quiet sigh came through the phone.

"Where have you been, Amelia? I've been waiting for you to come home."

She frowned.

"I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

"Is that what you intend to tell me after everything that happened?"

"Listen, I don't know who you are, but I don't appreciate strange calls."

Before she could end the conversation, the man spoke again.

"Look inside the drawer beside your bed. You'll find something that might help you remember."

Amelia's expression changed.

"How do you know where I live?"

The call disconnected.

She immediately tried calling the number back, but it was unavailable.

For several minutes, she remained seated, staring at her phone.

How could a stranger know where she lived?

And what exactly was inside her bedroom drawer?

---

Amelia returned home earlier than usual that evening.

Sophie was in the kitchen preparing dinner when Amelia entered.

"You're back early," she remarked.

"I need to ask you something."

Sophie turned off the cooker.

"What happened?"

"Someone called me today. He knew my address, and he claimed he was waiting for me to come home."

Sophie slowly placed the spoon on the counter.

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. But he told me to check my bedroom drawer."

Amelia walked toward her room before Sophie could respond.

She opened the small drawer beside her bed and began searching through its contents.

At first, she found nothing unusual. There were old receipts, a notebook and some documents.

Then her fingers touched something beneath the lining.

She pulled out a small envelope.

Her name was written across it.

Amelia opened it carefully.

Inside was a hotel key card and a photograph of the same man from the wedding picture.

This time, he was standing beside her in front of a large building. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and she was holding a small bouquet of flowers.

On the back was another message.

THE NIGHT YOU LEFT ME, YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD COME BACK.

Amelia stared at the photograph.

A strange feeling passed through her chest. She couldn't remember the occasion, but something about the man's face made her uncomfortable.

Then she noticed a name printed on the hotel key card.

HAYES GRAND HOTEL.

She recognized it. It was one of the most expensive hotels in the city, owned by a wealthy businessman named Alexander Hayes.

She had seen his name in business magazines, but she had never paid much attention to him.

Until now.

A notification suddenly appeared on her phone.

It was a news alert.

ALEXANDER HAYES, BILLIONAIRE BUSINESSMAN, ANNOUNCES HIS RETURN AFTER THREE YEARS ABROAD.

Amelia opened the article.

The photograph at the top showed the same man from her wedding picture.

Her phone slipped slightly in her hand.

Before she could process what she had just discovered, another message arrived from the unknown number.

I KNOW YOU HAVE SEEN THE PHOTOGRAPH.

A second message followed.

ASK YOUR BEST FRIEND WHY SHE WAS AT YOUR WEDDING.

Amelia slowly raised her head.

Sophie was standing in the bedroom doorway.

Her face had gone completely pale.

"Amelia," she whispered.

Amelia held up the phone.

"How did you know about my wedding?"

Sophie looked at the photograph in Amelia's hand, then quietly closed the bedroom door.

"Because," she said, her voice trembling, "I was the maid of honour."