The soft rustle of paper filled the quiet corners of Damian's study. Morning light filtered through the tall windows, casting a golden hue over the antique desk where he sat. Stacks of old photo albums, business files, and clippings from family archives surrounded him—each a puzzle piece in the mystery he couldn't let go.
Damian adjusted his gloves and opened a leather-bound album with his family crest embossed on the front. Inside were carefully preserved photographs, some from decades past—dinners, galas, weddings. It wasn't until the final few pages that he found it.
A single photograph.
Faded but clear enough to see.
A younger Madam Seo, elegant and composed, stood beside a hospital bed, holding two newborns swaddled in pale pink. Her eyes were not looking at the camera but at the babies in her arms.
Damian's heart stopped when he saw the scribbled label beneath it:
"Hena and Hara - 20 years ago."
His fingers tightened around the edges of the photo.
Both girls had matching birth bracelets. Same eyes. Same expression.
Twins.
Yet only one had grown up in wealth and privilege. The other had been left behind in silence.
He leaned back in his chair, breath caught between disbelief and fury. This wasn't just a family secret—it was a stolen life.
"Why?" he muttered. "Why hide her?"
His hand hovered over his phone, instinctively going to Madam Seo's number. But he stopped. She had already shown what she was capable of—manipulating people, controlling outcomes, and silencing the past.
Instead, he called Hara.
She picked up on the third ring, voice sharp and impatient. "What now, Damian?"
"I need to speak with you," he said calmly. "It's about your sister."
There was a pause. Then laughter—cold, clipped. "So now she's my sister? Interesting how fast you switch sides."
"She is your sister, Hara. The evidence is right in front of me. A photo. From twenty years ago. With both of you."
"You think I don't know that already?" she snapped. "She's been following me, showing up where she doesn't belong. I don't need to be reminded that she exists."
"She has a right to know—"
"She had no right to return," Hara interrupted. "I don't care what she thinks she wants. There's nothing to talk about."
"Hara—" he tried again.
But she cut him off, voice ice-cold. "I'm tired of your obsession with her. If you want to be her knight in shining armor, go ahead. Just don't expect me to stick around and watch you betray me."
And with that, the line went dead.
Damian stared at the screen.
Betray her?
He wasn't sure what angered him more—her denial, or her entitlement to a life built on secrets.
He turned the photograph over. On the back was another note, faded with time:
"The second child was not expected to survive. Transfer arranged."
Damian's jaw tightened.
This wasn't just a case of twins separated at birth. Someone had decided Hena's fate before she even had a name. And now, those same people were trying to erase her again.
---
At Claire's apartment, Hena paced the living room.
Her mind kept returning to Madam Seo's visit, to the fear in her voice, and to the hospital file she'd found.
She held the bracelet in her palm—the only thing that truly belonged to her past.
Claire emerged from the kitchen, two mugs in hand. "You've barely touched your tea."
Hena took the cup, murmuring, "Thanks. I just… can't stop thinking. Everything feels like it's spinning."
"You've come so far already," Claire said softly. "But you don't have to do this alone."
Hena gave her a faint smile. "I'm starting to realize that. But the truth… it's heavier than I thought."
Just then, her phone buzzed. Damian.
She hesitated before answering. "Hello?"
His voice was low but firm. "I found something. A photo. Of you and Hara. Together. As babies."
Hena's breath caught.
"You're sure?" she whispered.
"Yes. Your names are labeled beneath it. It was in my family's archives—which means Madam Seo allowed it to be documented once. Before everything was rewritten."
There was a beat of silence. Then Hena asked, "Why are you helping me?"
Damian didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was softer. "Because someone has to. And because… I see you, Hena. Not as Hara's shadow, or some mistake from the past. But as you."
Hena blinked back the sting in her eyes.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"I'm going to dig deeper," he continued. "There's more to this. I can feel it."
She nodded, gripping the bracelet tighter. "Then we'll uncover it together."
---
That night, Hara sat in her luxury apartment, alone with a glass of wine and an unread book in her lap.
Her phone screen glowed, showing her last call: Damian Lee – Missed.
She threw the phone onto the couch, eyes narrowing.
Hena was supposed to be dead.
Gone and forgotten.
Why did she come back?
Why couldn't she just stay away?
And why did Damian look at her like that—like Hena was the real thing, and she was just the replacement?
Hara's jaw clenched.
She wouldn't lose everything she worked for—not to a girl who was supposed to disappear.
Not now.
Not ever.