There, in the courtyard, stands a small girl (about 9–10 years old).
Thin. Quiet. Exhausted-looking. Wearing worn clothes too big for her. She is cleaning the marble steps with a broom, completely ignored by the glamorous world behind the glass.
Ethan freezes when he sees her.
His breath stops.
Slowly, he walks toward her.
The camera shakes slightly with tension.
He reaches out and grabs her hand gently.
ETHAN (low voice):
“Wait… just—let me see your hand.”
The girl looks confused but doesn’t pull away.
Close-up: her fingers reveal a distinct black birthmark.
Ethan’s face collapses emotionally.
His eyes fill with tears instantly.
ETHAN (broken whisper):
“…that mark…”
The girl looks up calmly.
GIRL:
“Sir… I’m just working.”
Ethan suddenly drops to his knees, still holding her hand tightly, terrified she will disappear.
ETHAN (urgent, trembling):
“What’s your name?”
A pause.
GIRL (softly):
“…Lina.”
The name hits him like a violent shock.
He freezes completely.
ETHAN (barely audible):
“No… no, it can’t be…”
His voice cracks.
Tears fall now.
ETHAN:
“Your mother… what’s her name?”
The girl lowers her eyes.
LINA:
“She told me never to say it…”
The world feels like it stops.
Rain continues falling, but everything else is silent.
Ethan leans closer, desperate.
ETHAN:
“Please… I need to know.”
Lina slowly raises her hand with the mark.
Her voice is calm—but final.
LINA:
“She said… if someone ever finds me because of this mark…”
She looks straight at him.
LINA:
“…then he’s my father.”
CUT TO BLACK.
