Chapter 5: The Woman In The Photograph

I couldn't stop thinking about that message.

Ask Ethan what happened three years ago.

It followed me everywhere — through breakfast, through the garden, into bed at night. Three years ago what happened? And why would it explain why Lily ran away? My mind felt like a room full of broken pieces I couldn't fit together.

By morning my curiosity had grown bigger than my fear.

I found an old servant arranging flowers and took my chance "Can I ask you something? What question she replied. What happened to Ethan three years ago?"

The flowers dropped from her hands her face went pale.

I don't know what you're talking about she bent down too fast with her hands shaking.

You do know? I said.

“No” But her eyes said otherwise.

Before I could push further another servant appeared, Mrs Kingsley wants you upstairs. The old woman looked relieved — grateful, almost, like someone had thrown her a rope — and hurried away.

I watched her go something in this house was wrong, I could feel it in my bones.

That afternoon I wandered into a hallway nobody used most doors were locked, but one stood slightly open. I couldn't stop myself then my feet just walked in.

It was an old study, dust lying over everything like a grey blanket. On the desk stood a framed photo i picked it up — and froze.

It was Ethan but not the Ethan I knew. This Ethan was smiling, really smiling, his arm around a young woman who looked happy and at ease — the kind of ease that only comes from being deeply loved.

The date in the corner read: three years ago.

My heart pounded.

This had to be connected — the message, Lily's warning, all of it. The woman wasn't Lily, which meant Ethan had loved someone else, someone hidden away in a forgotten room.

Interesting, isn't it?

I spun around. Ethan's grandfather stood in the doorway watching me.

I'm sorry, I said quickly.

He looked at the photo for a moment, sadness crossed his face like a cloud over the sun then vanished.

Who is she? I asked.

Someone who changed everything.

Did Ethan love her?

A pause, then quietly: "Very much."

My stomach dropped suddenly I understood Lily's warning wasn't about a dangerous man. It was about a broken one.

Footsteps in the hallway the old man's face hardened “Put it back. Now” I placed the frame down just as Ethan appeared in the doorway.

His eyes found me, then the desk, then the photo. All the color left his face. For one second I saw something raw in him — not anger, pain.

What are you doing here? His voice was ice.

I was just looking around.

You shouldn't be here he crossed the room and picked up the photo, his fingers tightening around the frame, his jaw clenched, his eyes unable to leave her face the room felt heavy, like I'd stepped into a wound that had never healed.

I'm sorry, I said softly.

I don't want your sympathy. The words cut into me though I knew they weren't really about me. He turned the photo face-down.

Shouting broke out downstairs before I could say more. We rushed down to find a young maid crying and a broken vase on the floor. Ethan's mother stood over her, furious.

She broke a family heirloom, his mother said.

It was an accident, the girl said shaking.

Pack your things. You're fired."

The girl dropped to her knees “Please." My chest tightened — I knew that fear I'd seen it in my own mirror.

Then I noticed the water on the floor didn't match where the broken pieces lay. The vase hadn't fallen from where the maid stood.

"It wasn't her," I said.

The room froze, Ethan's mother turned on me. Excuse me?

I pointed at the floor “If she dropped it while cleaning the pieces would be near the spill but they're not.

Ethan followed my words with his eyes, then his gaze sharpened — he saw it too. A relative nearby looked suddenly, painfully uncomfortable.

Moments later the truth came out his young son had been playing football inside. The maid had only arrived first.

The room erupted — apologies, tears, relief. The maid turned to me. Thank you.

"It's okay," I said, smiling faintly.

Then I felt Ethan watching me. When our eyes met, something had shifted — not warmth, not trust, but confusion, as if I didn't match the woman Lily had described. It passed quickly his face going calm again, but I had seen it that first small crack.

That night alone in my room I couldn't stop thinking about the photo — Ethan's real smile, the unknown woman, the sadness in his grandfather's eyes.

Then my phone buzzed. Unknown Number.

My heart raced before I even opened it.

The woman is dead.

My breath caught. Another message followed.

And Ethan blames himself.

I stared at the screen, frozen, cold all over.

Then one last line appeared, and it turned my blood to ice.

Ask yourself why Lily was so afraid to marry a man who still lives with a ghost.

The screen went dark and for the first time since I came to the Kingsley mansion, I wondered if my sister hadn't run from marriage at all.

Maybe she had run from something far bigger — something this house had been hiding for three long years.