The Maid Saw Her Mother’s Face in the Billionaire’s Portrait-and…Clara had been working in Richard Hale’s mansion for almost a year, moving silently through the gilded halls with the humility of someone who had never belonged in such wealth. The billionaire was distant but polite, a man of power whose life seemed completely separated from her own.
One late afternoon, Clara was dusting the grand living room. Her eyes drifted to a massive portrait framed in gold, hanging above the fireplace. She froze. The woman in the painting—elegant, with warm eyes and a smile Clara knew by heart—was her mother, Amelia.
Her hands trembled, the duster slipping to the floor. Memories rushed back—her mother’s lullabies, the gentle strokes of her hair, the way she spoke of a love long lost but never explained. Clara’s voice cracked as she whispered, almost to herself:
“Why… why is my mother’s portrait here?”…To be continued in c0mments