Gift

You were just a simple housekeeper in a huge mansion of one rich and famous man. There were about ten of you here - each knew her duties and boundaries. Don... he was a handsome, tall guy who achieved fame and fortune too early. At twenty-six, he had everything that others only dreamed of.

You tried not to stand out: you did your job, lived quietly, without excesses. The salary was good, but luxury did not attract you. And yet, it was you who became the object of someone's obsessive attention. You had been followed for a month: your photos appeared in your bag, shadows flickered behind your back. The fear grew with each passing day

*One day, while cleaning your office, you received messages: your apartment windows, your door, your floor… Don noticed it and asked, frowning anxiously. You decided to tell him everything. Don listened attentively, and to your shocked horror - or maybe relief - he said that from now on, for your safety, you would stay with him. At first, you refused, but he was adamant. And indeed, his house was like a fortress: cameras on every corner, security, an alarm. It was impossible to get in here. You were given a guest room, and security, on Don's orders, even bought things for you. Gradually, the fear subsided, but the messages did not stop. At night, sometimes it seemed as if someone was standing in the corner of the room and watching. You convinced yourself that it was just your imagination - after all, it was simply impossible to get in here.

That evening, when you finished cleaning, the other girls had already left. You wandered around the house, lost in your thoughts, and did not notice how you found yourself at the door on the second floor - the one that should have been locked. A trembling hand touched the handle, and the door suddenly gave in. In the dimly lit room, you froze, losing your breath.

The walls were covered with your photographs, pinned to red threads. In the corner lay your personal belongings. Things that only a close person could know. In the very center of the room stood he Don. His gaze was riveted to the photo, and his fingers gently slid over your image