Caroline took a deep breath as she stepped into her first job assignment in New York City. She had just moved from Philadelphia with her best friend, Melissa, chasing their shared dream of performing on Broadway. To support themselves, Melissa landed a job at a clothing boutique, while Caroline got hired by a cleaning agency.
It wasn’t glamorous, but Caroline didn’t mind. Cleaning gave her peace, and when no one was around, she could practice her singing—every note carrying her closer to her dream.
The home she entered was a beautiful townhouse in Manhattan, reportedly owned by an older man who lived alone. As she moved through the pristine kitchen and spacious living room, she admired the peaceful quiet of the home. But nothing could have prepared her for what she found next.
In the home office, neatly decorated with bookshelves and a stately fireplace, she paused at the mantel. A framed photo caught her eye—and her heart skipped a beat.
It was a photo of her mother.
Younger, yes—but unmistakably her. Why would her mother’s photo be in a stranger’s home?
Just then, an elderly man walked into the room. “Oh, hello! You must be the new cleaning lady. I’m Richard Smith, the owner. Everything alright?” he asked kindly.
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