109

109
Days passed in a smooth, quiet rhythm, yet Carolina’s nerves never settled. Each morning she rose before dawn, dressed in her plain uniform, tucked her glasses into place, and stepped into the life of “Angela,” the new maid. 

The house itself, though grand and pristine, felt oddly lifeless. The staff moved like silent shadows, barely exchanging more than necessary words. 

The head maid, Sophia, had warmed up to Carolina more quickly than expected, thanks to Katherine’s tips, and assigned her simple but frequent tasks: dusting the upper halls, helping the cook with plating, and carrying trays to the east wing.

The east wing is where Kingsley and Beth’s master suite is. That was where Carolina focused most of her quiet attention. She watched. She noted. And though she tried her best to find signs of warmth, of shared life, she could see nothing that resembled a real marriage. 

Beth came and went as she pleased, sometimes in long coats and sunglasses as if hiding from her staff. Kingsley, or the man who looked like him, barely emerged from the bedroom. Not once had Carolina seen them sit together for a meal. Not once had she seen them touch. They lived under the same roof as strangers.

She might have doubted Katherine’s suspicions until the fifth day, around noon. She was helping the kitchen staff deliver lunch. It was just a simple plate: grilled salmon, roasted vegetables, and lemon water. It was Beth’s order, the sort of clean, influencer-style meal she was known for. The tray had two servings, and she was told to take one and leave it near the bedroom door.

Carolina carried it up the grand staircase, her flat shoes silent against the marble. She reached the door, as usual, and just as she was about to gently announce, “Lunch is here,” a sound from within made her freeze. 

It was Beth’s voice, sharp, commanding. “Be ready. We’re going out soon.”

A pause. Then came Kingsley’s voice or at least, the voice that belonged to the man who looked like him. His tone was passive, oddly meek. “Okay, ma’am. Where will we be going?” 

Carolina froze in place, her breath caught in her throat. “Just shut up and do as I say,” Beth snapped. “That’s the last time you ask me a question.”

Another pause. “When I tell you to do something,” she continued, her voice low but vicious, “you will shut up and do it. Understand?”

Carolina’s heart thundered in her chest. This couldn’t be Kingsley. And then his voice, quiet and obedient: “I’m sorry, ma’am.” 

She stood there, tray in hand, stunned and stiff. It was as if the man inside that room wasn’t even a man. No Kingsley she ever met, even the brokenhearted, humble Kingsley at the retreat would ever respond to Beth like that. Never so submissive. Never so... controlled.

Carolina carefully bent and set the tray down without a word. Her hands trembled slightly. And without making a sound, she turned and walked away. Her mind was spinning. This wasn’t just a cold marriage. This was something else. Something wrong. Something dangerous. She decided to wait till Beth and Kingsley went out to investigate more.

An hour later, Beth and Kingsley had just driven out. Carolina had watched them leave from the hallway window near the linen cupboard, barely blinking until the car turned out of the gate and disappeared down the road. The house was quiet, the kind of silence that echoed through the marble halls like a held breath. She moved quickly. 

The staff had retreated to their quarters or side duties, and no one would question where “Angela” was, not in a house this size. She slipped up the grand staircase, heart pounding. Every footstep felt exaggerated on the plush carpet. She reached the top floor, then the double doors of the master suite. The gold handles gleamed. She glanced around, no one.

Carolina turned the knob slowly, and to her surprise, it opened. Not locked. The room smelled faintly of jasmine and something colder, air freshener maybe, or the scent of stale control. Everything was immaculately arranged, too clean, too perfect. The bed was made like a hotel suite, the curtains drawn. There were no signs of life. No rumpled clothes. No half-finished coffee cups. Just eerie stillness.

Carolina moved cautiously, opening drawers and scanning shelves. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking for, but Katherine’s gut was rarely wrong. If something was off, it would be here. She checked under the bed. Nothing. She peeked into the bathroom. Pristine. Finally, she walked into the expansive closet.

It was huge, rows of expensive heels, dresses, and designer accessories on Beth’s side. The other side was neat but off. The clothing was technically Kingsley’s style, but the brands were wrong. The arrangement was too orderly, like someone playing a role. 

Then her eyes caught something odd, a pile of winter coats bunched at the bottom of the far-left shelf. She bent down. There, half-hidden beneath the coats was a matte black chest. Small, square, with a silver latch.

“What are you hiding?” she murmured. She pulled out the hairpin from her back pocket, a habit she’d picked up from her mother, who used to pick locks on old jewelry boxes when she lost the keys. Her fingers trembled slightly, but her movements were swift. It took exactly forty seconds. Click. The latch snapped open.

She opened the lid slowly and gasped. Inside were two passports. The first one read: KINGSLEY MICHAEL ROWE. She opened it. It looked real, the same birthdate and the photo? It was Kingsley. Her eyes widened. It wasn’t a close resemblance, it was him. Her boss. Her friend. Katherine’s love. But what was it doing in a locked box?

Then she picked up the second passport. JORDAN ELLIS. Her fingers tightened. She opened it. The man in the photo looked like Kingsley, but not quite. The jaw was a little broader. The smile stiffens. The eyes are duller. Like someone who had practiced his face in a mirror hadn’t quite mastered the soul behind it.

“Oh my God,” Carolina breathed. “They replaced him.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. Then her eyes caught something else. Tucked beneath the passports was a phone, black, familiar. It had the same distinct dark green leather pouch with Kingsley’s initials, K.M.R., stamped in small gold lettering on the bottom. Her heart nearly stopped. Kingsley’s phone. The real one. Why wasn’t he carrying it?

She grabbed it, thumb brushing over the surface. It was dead. She frantically looked around, saw a charger coiled beside the bed, snatched it, plugged it in, and watched as the phone blinked to life. A few seconds passed. The lock screen lit up. And there he was, Kingsley, smiling, holding a steaming mug of coffee, sunlight on his cheek. A candid photo. Real. Warm. Him. It was definitely his phone.

But why would he leave it behind? Unless… The screen blinked. Enter passcode. Carolina froze. Of course. She had no idea what the password was. She bit her lip. Tried 1234 — nothing. 0000 — locked again. She knew she couldn’t keep trying or it would freeze. She set the phone gently down on the nightstand, brain racing.

Someone had locked away Kingsley’s ID and his phone. They were hiding his identity, keeping him from the world. This wasn’t just about impersonation. This was entrapment. She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how vulnerable she was. The house. The staff. The cameras.

Carolina quickly placed everything back, just as she found it. She closed the chest, slipped it beneath the coats again, reset the charger in its original loop, and brushed down her tracks. Before she left, she looked back at the photo on the phone screen, Kingsley, smiling, alive. She whispered under her breath, “Don’t worry. We’ll find you.” Then she slipped out of the room and into the hallway, careful, fast, and silent.

She rushed into her maid’s room and shut the door softly, locking it behind her. Her heart was still pounding. The rush of adrenaline hadn’t left her since she stepped out of the master bedroom. She paced for a moment, one hand pressed to her chest, the other reaching for her phone. She dialed quickly. It rang once. Twice. Three times—

“Hello?” Katherine’s voice came through, low and curious. “Carolina?”

Carolina sat down on the edge of her bed, lowering her voice into a breathless whisper. “Katherine. Listen to me. You were right. Oh my God, you were right.”

A pause. Then: “What happened?”

“I just… I went into the master bedroom while they were out. I had to check, and… Katherine, I found something. A locked chest, tucked under winter coats in the closet.”

Katherine’s breath hitched. “What was inside?”

“Two passports,” Carolina whispered. “One with Kingsley’s name and photo. The other… a different name. Jordan Ellis. Same face. Almost. But not quite. You were right. He’s not the real Kingsley.”

Silence. Then Katherine said slowly, like her mind was catching up to her heartbeat, “They replaced him.”

“Yes,” Carolina said. “Yes. That’s exactly what it looks like.”

Katherine exhaled sharply, shakily. “Oh my God. Oh my God, I knew something was off. I knew it.” “There’s more,” Carolina said, sitting up straighter. “His phone. His real phone — the one I’ve seen him use before. The pouch with his initials. It was there too. Hidden. I charged it, turned it on… His picture’s the wallpaper. It’s definitely his. But it’s locked. I don’t know the passcode.”

Katherine’s voice was urgent now. “He’d never leave his phone behind. Never. Not unless…” “Unless they took it from him,” Carolina finished. “They’re trying to erase him. Hide him. And now someone else is living in his house, with his wife, using his name.”

Katherine was silent again, but Carolina could hear her breathing, fast and uneven like she was trying not to cry. Finally, Katherine said, voice trembling but strong, “Then we’re not crazy. He’s in danger. My Kingsley is in danger.”

Carolina nodded, though Katherine couldn’t see her. “Yes. And we need to figure out where he is.”

“Did you take pictures? Of the passports? Of the phone?”

“I didn’t want to risk it. If I get caught snooping in there, this whole plan collapses. But next time, I’ll take them. I promise.”

“Okay,” Katherine said. “Okay. Don’t rush. Just keep your cover. I need you safe, Caro.”

“I will be. I’m careful.” Then Katherine asked quietly, “And Beth? You haven’t been seen by her, right?”

“No. I keep my distance. She barely notices the staff. But…” Carolina hesitated. “There’s something else you should know.”

“What?”

“I heard them talking earlier. She was barking orders at him, the fake Kingsley. She called him ‘baby’ in front of the staff but behind closed doors. She ordered him around like a pet, like he was nothing. And he… he obeyed. Called her ‘ma’am.’ Said ‘I’m sorry, ma’am.’ He didn’t even sound like Kingsley.”

Katherine was quiet for a long moment. She let the silence linger for a moment longer before finally whispering, “So… what are we going to do now? How are we going to find Kingsley?” There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Katherine’s voice came through, firm but pained. “We need to get Beth’s phone.”

Carolina blinked. “Beth’s phone?”

“Yes,” Katherine said. “If we can get into her phone, we might find out where he is. Messages, emails, location data, anything. But we’d have to hack it.”

Carolina exhaled slowly, rubbing her forehead. “Hack it? How? Do you even know anyone who can do that?”

“I… no,” Katherine admitted, frustration creeping into her voice. “I don’t know anyone. Not in that world. But I’ll think about it. Maybe someone—”

“Wait,” Carolina interrupted. “Why don’t I just ask Devon?”

There was silence again, heavier this time. Katherine’s voice dropped. “Carolina… he doesn’t even know you’re on this mission.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “But I’ll tell him. I’ll explain everything. I’ll apologize for not saying anything sooner. I know I should’ve. But Devon’s smart, and he cares. Kingsley is his friend too. Once he hears the truth, I know he’ll want to help.”

Katherine sounded hesitant. “Are you sure? Will he be okay with it?”

Carolina nodded as if Katherine could see her. “Yes. I’ll talk to him. I’ll make him understand. I know Devon. He’ll get it. And I’m pretty sure he knows someone, a hacker, a tech guy, whatever. He’s in that world.”

There was a long breath from Katherine’s end. Then, in a voice full of fragile hope and deep gratitude: “Okay. Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much, Carolina. I don’t even know how to—”

“Don’t,” Carolina said softly. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re in this together. We’re going to find Kingsley. I swear it.”

“Okay,” Katherine whispered. “Be careful. Don’t get caught. And… call me the moment you speak to Devon.”

“I will. First thing.”

They ended the call. Carolina sat on her small maid’s bed, staring at the burner phone in her hand. Her pulse still raced, her palms still sweaty. But now her purpose was even clearer. 

She had a new mission: get to Devon, tell him everything, and hack Beth’s phone.