Nobody moved.
Julian slowly walked toward Clara.
“What does she have?”
Clara wiped the tears from her face.
“The truth.”
The blonde woman suddenly laughed.
“You’re actually going to believe her?”
Julian looked at Clara.
“Tell me.”
Clara reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a small, old envelope.
“I found this hidden in your father’s study.”
Julian opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
His father.
A younger Clara.
And a little boy.
Julian stared at the photograph, confused.
“Who is that child?”
Clara’s voice broke.
“You.”
The room became completely silent.
“The night your father died,” Clara continued, “he gave me this photograph and begged me to protect you.”
Julian looked at the blonde woman.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She threatened me,” Clara whispered. “She said if I ever told you, she’d destroy everything you loved.”
The blonde woman’s face went pale.
Julian slowly turned toward her.
“You knew?”
She stepped backward.
“You don’t understand…”
“No,” Julian said quietly. “I understand everything now.”
He looked at Clara.
“You weren’t cleaning this house because you were weak.”
Clara shook her head.
“I stayed because I was protecting you.”
Julian’s eyes filled with tears.
Then he noticed something written on the back of the photograph.
He turned it over.
His expression suddenly changed.
There were only five words:
“She is not who you think.”
Julian looked at the blonde woman.
Then at Clara.
And finally at the photograph.
“Clara…”
She whispered:
“There’s one more secret.”
