She nodded once and let him inside, leading him through a wide hallway lined with oil paintings and antique mirrors. The air smelled faintly of candle wax and lilies. Rafael followed her into a vast living room, where a single portrait dominated the far wall.
He froze.
The world narrowed into a single point.
The portrait showed a young woman with warm brown eyes, a small beauty mark near her mouth, and long dark hair styled neatly behind her shoulders. She smiled softly, like someone hiding a secret. Black ribbons framed the painting, and beneath it sat white flowers and flickering candles.
It was his wife. Not similar. Identical.
Rafael’s grip loosened. The document folder slipped from his fingers and scattered across the polished floor. His heart hammered so violently that his vision blurred.
The woman by the door turned sharply. “Sir, are you alright?”
Rafael pointed toward the portrait, his hand trembling. “Who is she?”
The maid hesitated, her expression tightening. “That is the former owner of this estate. She passed away three years ago.”
Rafael swallowed hard. “What was her name?”
The woman looked away before answering. “Her name was Aurora Kingsley.”