I did not sleep well. The room was quiet, the bed was soft, but my mind would not rest. I kept thinking about the photo I had found in the desk. The woman in it looked exactly like me. Her face, her hair, even the way she stood—it was all the same.
But I knew it was not me.
I had never seen that dress before. I had never been beside Damien before the wedding. I had never stood in front of that large, gold-framed mirror behind them.
The photo was old. The paper felt thin.
I put the photo back in the drawer and closed it after looking thoroughly for the fourth time.
The next morning, someone knocked on my door. I stood still for a second, then walked over and opened it.
A woman in a uniform stood outside. She held a tray with food.
She did not smile. "Breakfast, Miss Sinclair," she said. "You eat here."
She walked in, placed the tray on the sparkly marble table, and left without another word.
I sat and looked at the tray. Eggs, toast, fruit, and tea. It smelled fresh. I ate slowly. My hands still shook a little.
After eating, I walked to the window. The sea was calm and wide. Far below, waves hit the rocks. I had never seen the ocean so close before. The sound was soft but steady.
I wanted to go outside, but I remembered what the woman had said the night before. I could not leave my room without asking. I could not enter the east wing.
"What have I gotten myself into? Why did I get desperate to have my problems solved?"
I caught myself questioning. It didn't make sense that from the moment I got here, everything had taken an awkward turn.
I picked up the small phone on the wall. It had one button. I pressed it.
A moment later, the same woman's voice came through. "Yes?"
"I want to take a walk," I said. "Am I allowed?"
There was a pause. Then, "You may use the west garden. Stay on the path. Do not enter any doors. Someone will watch you."
The line went dead.
I got dressed and stepped out into the hallway. It was empty. The floor was clean and shiny. I walked slowly, turning left as the hallway ended. The mansion was so vast that one could easily get lost in.
The door to the west garden was large and made of glass. I pushed it open.
The air outside was fresh and cool. The garden had trimmed grass, neat hedges, and rows of white flowers. A stone path curved through it. I followed the path, feeling the breeze on my face.
As I walked, I felt someone watching me. I turned and saw a man in black standing near the trees. He did not speak. He just stood there.
I kept walking.
At the far end of the garden was a bench. I sat down and looked out at the sea. It was quiet here. But it did not feel peaceful. It felt controlled. I was being controlled. I had walked right into this mystery. For a million dollars.
After a while, I stood up and walked back to the house. The man followed me from a distance.
When I entered the hallway again, I saw another woman waiting for me. She wore glasses and held a folder.
She looked at me and spoke in a flat voice. "You are needed in the study. Follow me."
I did not ask why. It was worthless because no one around was going to explain anything to me. I followed her.
We walked through two long halls. At the end of the second was a tall door. She knocked once, then pushed it open.
Damien sat behind a desk. He looked up when I walked in but said nothing.
The woman left and closed the door.
I stood still. Damien kept writing something in a notebook. The room was filled with books, files, and paintings. A fire burned in the fireplace.
After a long silence, Damien spoke.
"You are not here to ask questions," he said.
I nodded.
"You stay in your part of the house. You speak to no one unless told to. You do not enter my wing. You do not leave the island. You do not bring trouble."
I nodded again.
He stood up and walked over to me. His eyes were cold, just like the first time I saw him.
"I married you because I needed a solution," he said. "Nothing more. You will be paid. You will be safe. But you will not matter beyond that."
His words hit hard, but I said nothing.
Then he looked at me for a long time, studying my face and examining my features.
"You saw the photo," he said.
My heart jumped. I looked down.
"She was someone I lost," he said. "That is all."
He turned away from me. "You may leave now."
I wanted to ask more. I wanted to know why she looked like me and if that's why I'm in the mansion But I simply did what he said.
He needed a solution and I was just part of a plan.
Later in my room, I was even more restless. I looked at the drawer again but did not open it. I already knew what was inside.
I was not here to fall in love. I was not here to be known.
I was here to be a shadow.
But still, I wondered.
What solution?
The next day followed the same routine. Meals were brought to my room. I was allowed one hour each day in the garden. I was not allowed to speak to any staff. I did not see Damien again. My boss did not try to reach out to me. It was unusual.
Each night, I heard footsteps in the hall. They never came to my door. But I heard them pause outside, then move on.
One evening, during my walk, I noticed something new. One of the doors along the garden wall was open a little. I looked around. No one was near. The man in black was not in sight.
I stepped closer and peeked in.
It was a small room with boxes and old furniture. Nothing special. I started to turn away, but something caught my eye.
On the wall, there were pictures. Photos taped in a messy row.
I stepped inside.
The photos were of the same woman in the old picture. The one who looked like me.
In one, she was laughing. In another, she was crying. In one, she stood by Damien. In another, she was alone on a beach.
There were dozens of them.
I stared at them for a long time.
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned.
Damien stood in the doorway. His face was hard.
"You weren't supposed to see this," he said.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
He stepped closer. "Leave this room. Now."
I walked past him without speaking.
As I stepped into the hallway, he said something behind me.
"She died three years ago."
I stopped but I did not turn around.
Slowly, I walked back to my room, closed the door, and sat on the bed.
Now I understood something.
I was not just a wife for hire.
I was a ghost.