Behind the Portrait

Chapter 05

~~~THE NEXT MORNING~~~

The morning sunlight spilled through the mansion’s tall windows, soft and golden.

Tessa helped Luna into her tiny school uniform, brushed her hair neatly, and tied the blue ribbon she loved so much.

“Be good at school, bunny,” she said, smiling as she kissed her forehead.

Luna smiled faintly before being led away by the driver. When the car disappeared beyond the gates, silence crept back into the halls.

Tessa turned toward the kitchen, intending to help the maids — but froze at the doorway when she heard them whispering.

> “What do you think happened to Luna’s mother?”

“No one’s ever seen her. And with how private the boss is... I think he’s hiding something.”

“Maybe that’s what’s inside that room — the one we’re forbidden to enter.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?”

“Who knows? I’m not risking my job to find out.”

“Poor Luna. Her father’s always gone. She’s growing up alone — right under his nose.”

The words sank deep.

Tessa turned away, her chest tightening painfully.

Why does he hide her like this? She’s just a child... only three, yet already deprived of love, of her rights, of a father’s arms.

She pressed a hand to her chest and shut her door behind her once she reached her room. Her heart ached as she thought of the little girl’s lonely smile.

---

Hours passed.

A car horn jolted her awake — she’d fallen asleep without realizing. Panic shot through her when she glanced at the clock.

“Luna’s home!” she gasped and ran downstairs, guilt washing over her. She hadn’t prepared lunch.

The driver stood by the car, holding Luna’s bag. “She’s been quiet since school,” he said softly.

Tessa knelt beside the little girl. “Hey, bunny… what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Luna’s lips quivered. “My teacher said there’s a parent meeting next week. My classmates said... no one will come for me. They said I was born to be alone.”

Tessa’s heart shattered.

She pulled the trembling child into her arms.

“Don’t listen to them,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You are not alone. You have me — and you have your daddy. He loves you, even if he doesn’t show it.”

Luna began to sob softly. “Will he leave me too… like Mummy?”

Tessa’s own eyes filled with tears. “No, sweetheart. Never. You will never be alone.”

She held her until the crying stopped. But as she tucked Luna into bed that night, the ache in her chest didn’t fade — it grew heavier.

---

NIGHT

The mansion was silent. Too silent.

Tessa walked down the hall, her thoughts loud and bitter.

What kind of father is he? Two months here and I’ve seen him barely five times. He hires a nanny, not to help, but to escape. What kind of man leaves his own child to drown in loneliness?

Her anger bubbled over. “He’s a selfish freak,” she muttered aloud. “Pretending to be perfect while his daughter cries herself to sleep—”

Her foot slipped suddenly.

“Ah!” She yelped, falling hard to the floor. When she lifted her head, her heart dropped.

She was right in front of it.

The forbidden door.

Her breath hitched. “Why am I here again?” she whispered, pushing herself up. “I promised I wouldn’t come near this place again.”

But the maids’ words echoed in her mind.

> “Maybe that’s what he keeps in that room.”

“No one knows if she’s even alive.”

Her pulse quickened. “Is he really… hiding something?”

Almost against her will, she reached out. Her hand trembled as her fingers brushed the cold handle. The metal was freezing — unnaturally so.

Slowly, she turned it. Click.

The door creaked open.

She stepped inside.

The air was cold and heavy, smelling faintly of dust and perfume — old, faded perfume.

The room was stunning — white curtains, a piano in the corner, flowers long since withered. It felt like time had stopped.

“Wow…” she whispered. “Who lived here?”

She turned — and froze.

On the wall hung a large framed portrait of a woman.

A young woman with gentle eyes, and a smile that looked heartbreakingly familiar.

“She looks just like Luna…” Tessa whispered. “This must be her mother.”

Her fingertips brushed the frame tenderly — and then, it shifted.

A soft click.

The painting moved slightly to the side, revealing a narrow passage behind it.

“What the hell…” Tessa whispered, her voice trembling as her eyes darted across the room.

She hesitated, then stepped through.

The passage led into a small hidden room — dimly lit, the air colder still. Papers and photographs were scattered across the walls. Pictures of the woman. Of Luna as a baby. Notes written in shaky handwriting.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for one. The handwriting was shaky, desperate.

“I’ll keep her safe… even if it costs me everything.”

Her heart clenched. She picked up another, her vision blurring.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to lose you.”

Tessa’s breath hitched. A tear rolled down her cheek as her gaze swept over the pictures — a beautiful woman who looked exactly like Luna, her smile gentle, her eyes kind.

“Is this… Luna’s mother?” she whispered, stepping closer.

Her eyes fell on a thick book lying open on the table — a diary, its pages worn and yellow. She hesitated before flipping it open.

Her lips parted as she read the first few lines, the words piercing deep into her chest. Her tears fell faster, splashing onto the paper.

“What happened to her…” she whispered shakily. “What really happened to Luna’s mother?”

A faint creak echoed behind her.

Tessa froze.

Then—

“What the hell are you doing in here!?”

The roar made her heart leap out of her chest. She spun around, the diary slipping from her hands and hitting the floor with a soft thud.

Kingsley stood in the doorway — his eyes dark, his jaw clenched so tight it trembled.

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

He stormed forward and grabbed her wrist, his grip firm and angry. “Who gave you permission to come in here?!” he bellowed, dragging her out of the hidden room and into the open.

“I told you this place was off-limits!”

Tessa’s fear burned into anger. “Is this why you ignore her?” she cried. “Is this why Luna’s growing up without love—because you can’t face what’s behind that door?!”

“Don’t you dare talk like you understand anything!” Kingsley shouted, his voice raw. “You know nothing about what happened! Nothing about what I’ve been through!”

“Then tell me!” she yelled, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Tell me what’s so terrible you had to punish your daughter for it!”

He turned away, his breathing uneven, his fists trembling at his sides.

“You don’t get to judge me,” he said in a low, broken voice. “Not when you have no idea what those notes mean.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “Maybe I don’t,” she said through clenched teeth, “but I know what pain looks like — and I see it in her eyes every single day. Do you even know her favorite food? Her best friend’s name? Do you even know if she laughs when you’re not here?”

He froze — silent.

“You don’t, do you?” she whispered. “You don’t deserve to be her father.”

With that, she turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

The room fell silent again.

Kingsley stood there, motionless. The light flickered faintly, casting long shadows on the walls filled with memories he couldn’t erase.

He glanced at the fallen diary, his expression unreadable — pain, guilt, and something darker.

Slowly, he walked back into the hidden room. His hand brushed over the photograph of the woman on the wall.

His throat tightened.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he whispered. The words cracked as if they hurt to speak.

His gaze lingered on the photograph — her eyes, her smile — and for the first time, his voice broke completely.

“It wasn’t… my fault.”

But as he turned away, the diary on the floor shifted — its pages fluttering open on their own, stopping at a torn, half-written line:

“If he ever finds out the truth…”

The light above flickered again — and went out.