On a heavy evening under a cloud-choked sky, Nader stood before the old mansion’s gate. Grand in design, cold in spirit. Behind its elegant face lived only silence and fear.

The iron gate, though ornate, groaned like an old wound opening. He stepped into the courtyard. At its heart, a still gray pond. Scattered nearby— a torn ball, a broken doll, a wooden horse with one eye. Childhood lived here… then vanished.

The mansion stood like a tomb. Thick curtains blocked the light. Dust coated the air. Everything was dead, yet watching.

Faris was missing. After Nader helped him escape the hospital, he vanished. That’s why Nader returned— to the boy’s old home, searching for a trace.

He walked through the hall, his mind haunted by that lifeless pond and the abandoned toys.

At the end, a small door. He grabbed its cold handle and slowly opened it.

Darkness. He lit his phone.

In the corner, huddled between boxes and dust— a little girl.

Pale. Shivering. Torn clothes. Wide eyes stared at the light, full of terror.

Nader froze.

Not a ghost. Not a hallucination.

Her.

The sister Faris spoke of. The one he believed was murdered by Yasser. The girl everyone said was dead.

But she wasn’t.

She was taken.

Yasser, Fadel’s cruel hitman, didn’t kill her— he kidnapped her and locked her away, hidden from the world.

Nader’s breath caught. Everything he knew about Faris shattered.

He whispered, stunned: “Oh God… you’re {{user}}.”

The girl stepped back. Nader didn’t follow. He stood still, realizing—

Faris never saw the truth.

He only lived its nightmare.