“Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Years—But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!”
EPISODE 1
Mark Brown was one of the richest men in the country.
He owned houses, lands, and companies in different parts of the world. People respected him. They feared him. They wanted to be like him.
But deep down, Mark was lonely.
He lived in a huge house on a quiet hill called Emberwood. No wife. No children. No one to talk to.
Except for one man.
His gateman.
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His name was John.
John had worked at the gate for ten years. He never missed a day. He wore the same uniform, the same cap, and always stood at his post like a soldier. He didn’t talk much. But every morning, when Mark came outside, John would say:
“Good morning, sir. The world is still spinning.”
And Mark would reply:
“Thanks, John. Don’t let it stop without me.”
They said this to each other every single day for ten years.
Mark never really asked questions about John. He just liked that John was always there—always quiet, always loyal. But something about him… didn’t seem normal.
John didn’t age.
He never fell sick.
He never asked for more money.
He was just… there.
One rainy evening, after Mark lost a major deal and found out that one of his trusted workers had betrayed him, he couldn’t sleep. His heart was heavy, and his head was full of thoughts.
So instead of staying in bed, he walked down to the gate and sat beside John on the small wooden bench.
John’s little radio was playing a slow, sad tune.
After some silence, Mark spoke.
“Do you think loyalty still exists, John?”
John didn’t turn to look at him.
“Real loyalty doesn’t leave, even when people do.”
Mark nodded slowly. But the words touched him in a strange way.
They felt… deeper than they sounded.
A few weeks later, a group of girls passed by the mansion during a school walk. They stopped to take photos near the tall black gate.
One of the girls, Grace, a quiet ten-year-old, suddenly pulled the hand of the woman walking beside her—Mrs. Helen, her mother’s friend.
“Aunty Helen,” Grace said in a whisper, “why is that man staring at us like that?”
“Which man?” Helen asked.
“The man at the gate… He’s not blinking.”
Helen looked up.
There was no one there.
Her heart skipped.
She grabbed Grace’s hand quickly and walked away without saying a word.
That same evening, Mark was cleaning out his old office drawer when he found a photo of the house. It looked like it was taken a long time ago. The building was newer. The trees were smaller.
And at the gate stood a man.
Wearing a cap. In uniform.
It was John.
Mark turned the photo around.
There was a date written behind it.
August 1982.
Mark had moved into the house in 2012.
How could John be in a photo taken thirty years before he moved in?
That night, Mark couldn’t sleep.
The same soft music was playing from John’s radio at the gate.
The light in the gatehouse was still on.
Mark wore his coat and slowly walked down the path toward the gate.
John was there.
Still.
Silent.
Watching.
Mark stopped and asked, his voice shaking:
“Who are you?”
John slowly turned to him. His eyes looked darker, older… like they had seen many lifetimes.
Then he said softly:
“You’re finally ready to know, sir.”
Before Mark could ask another question—
John disappeared.
No sound.
No warning.
Gone.
Only the quiet sound of the radio remained…
And the heavy gate slowly creaked open behind Mark—
as if something, or someone, had been waiting all along.
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Years, But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!”
EPISODE 2
Mark stood there, frozen.
The night air grew colder.
The gate had opened by itself.
And John—his loyal gateman of ten years—had vanished without a sound.
Mark looked around, his heart pounding in his chest.
No sign of footsteps.
No sound of movement.
Just silence… and the slow hum of the old radio still playing on the bench.
He stepped closer to the gatehouse. His hands trembled as he pushed open the wooden door.
Inside, everything was neat.
Too neat.
No clothes.
No food.
No toothbrush.
No phone.
Only the uniform… perfectly folded on the chair.
And an old pocket-sized Bible placed gently on the table.
It smelled like dust and memories.
—
Mark took the Bible back to his house, sat on his bed, and opened it.
Inside the front cover, something was written in faded ink.
“To my son John – Serve with your heart, not just your hands. – Mum”
Mark paused.
His mind raced.
“To my son John…”
He turned the next page and froze.
There was a yellow paper, tucked between the pages.
A death certificate.
Name: John B. Daniels
Age: 28
Date of Death: August 23, 1983
Cause: Accidental drowning
Location: Emberwood Estate
Mark’s hand went cold.
He read the name again.
And again.
The same John?
But how?
Was it someone else with the same name?
Or… had he been living with a dead man for ten years?
—
The next morning, Mark drove straight to Emberwood records office.
He was a man known for calm and control. But that day, his hands shook as he handed over the paper.
“I need information on this man. John Daniels.”
The woman at the desk looked at the certificate and frowned.
“Sir… where did you get this?”
Mark hesitated.
“From my gateman’s room. But… he’s not there anymore.”
The woman looked at him carefully, then stood and disappeared into the back room.
Ten minutes later, she returned with a dusty brown file.
“He used to work here,” she said softly. “As a guard… just like you said. But he drowned while trying to save a child that fell into the estate’s lake. They say he died a hero.”
Mark stared at the file.
A child?
—
Back at the house, he stood at the window, staring at the old gate.
Then something caught his eye.
A shadow.
John.
He was back.
Standing silently, like nothing had happened.
Mark ran out, his voice loud:
“Where did you go?”
John turned slowly, face calm as ever.
“Nowhere, sir. I’ve always been here.”
“I found the Bible,” Mark said. “The death certificate. I saw your name. John… what are you?”
But John didn’t answer.
He simply said:
“Some truths are heavy, sir. Not everything should be rushed.”
Mark took a step forward, but something in John’s eyes stopped him.
This man—no, this presence—was guarding more than just the gate.
He was guarding a story. One that had not yet been told.
—
That evening, Mark received a visitor.
Helen.
The same woman who walked past the mansion with little Grace weeks earlier.
She looked troubled.
“Mr. Mark,” she said nervously, “I need to speak with you. It’s about… your gateman.”
Mark’s heart skipped.
“You know him?”
Helen hesitated, her voice now shaky.
“No. But I’ve seen his face before. A long time ago. When I was just a girl… I think I saw him the day my best friend’s daughter drowned.”
Mark’s face changed.
“Where?”
Helen looked down.
“In the Emberwood lake. The same year the gateman in your photo died. And the woman… the mother of that girl… was my best friend.”
Mark stared at her.
“What was her name?”
Helen’s lips trembled.
“Sarah Daniels. John’s mother.”
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Years, But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!”
EPISODE 3
Mark felt like the ground beneath him had shifted.
Sarah Daniels.
The name kept ringing in his ears.
Helen sat across from him, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her scarf.
“I didn’t mean to bring back pain,” she said softly. “But when Grace said someone was staring at her from the gate… and I looked up and saw no one… I remembered that face. That same man from thirty years ago.”
Mark’s voice was low.
“But how could he still be here?”
Helen looked up, her eyes filled with fear.
“That’s what you need to find out, Mark. Before something else happens.”
—
That night, Mark couldn’t sleep.
He kept hearing splashes.
Water.
Crying.
The sound of a child gasping for breath.
He got up, heart racing, and walked to the kitchen to drink water—but the tap suddenly burst open by itself.
Water spilled everywhere.
Then he heard it—a child’s laughter echoing from the hallway.
Mark dropped the glass.
He ran into the hallway. No one.
But on the floor… were wet footprints.
Tiny… barefoot… like a child had walked through his house.
—
The next morning, he went to the lake behind Emberwood estate.
The water was calm. Birds chirped as if nothing had ever happened there.
But when Mark stepped closer, he saw something in the sand.
A small red shoe. Half-buried.
He picked it up slowly… and saw a name written under it.
“Lilly.”
Suddenly, a voice behind him said—
“She was only six.”
Mark turned sharply.
John stood there, silent as always, eyes staring at the lake.
Mark’s throat tightened.
“Who was she, John?”
John didn’t look at him.
“The one I couldn’t save.”
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Mark’s voice broke.
“Then why are you still here?”
John’s eyes finally met his.
“Because she never left.”
Mark’s knees almost gave way.
“What… what do you mean?”
John walked slowly toward the water, stopping right at the edge.
“The day she fell in… I was chasing her. She was running. Laughing. I didn’t see the stone in time. I slipped. Hit my head. The next thing I remember… I was standing by the gate again. But no one could see me.”
Mark’s heart dropped.
John had died trying to save the little girl.
But what he said next froze the blood in Mark’s veins.
“She’s still around, Mark. She’s not at peace. Because someone… lied about what happened that day.”
—
Back at the mansion, Helen received a call from Grace’s school.
Grace had collapsed during morning assembly.
When Helen arrived, the teacher looked pale.
“She kept saying, ‘Lilly wants to come out of the water… she wants to tell the truth.’”
Helen’s face drained of color.
That night, she sat alone in her room, crying.
She opened an old diary.
Inside was a letter she had written—but never sent—to her late friend, Sarah Daniels.
She whispered through tears:
“Forgive me, Sarah. I should have told the truth. I should have said it wasn’t an accident…”
Suddenly, her phone rang.
It was Mark.
His voice was shaking.
“Helen, you need to come to the house. Now. Something’s wrong. I just found Lilly’s other shoe… inside my bedroom.”
Helen clutched her phone tightly, Mark’s words still echoing in her ear.
“Lilly’s shoe… inside my bedroom.”
She rushed out of her house without even locking the door properly. Grace was asleep on the couch—Helen didn’t dare wake her. Something told her this night would open wounds she buried long ago.
The rain had begun falling again. The kind of slow, soft rain that carries memories. As she drove, her mind wandered to the past—to Sarah, to Lilly’s laughter, and the lake that swallowed everything.
When she arrived at the mansion, Mark was standing under the porch, holding the little red shoe in a plastic bag. His face looked hollow.
“Come inside,” he said without smiling.
They sat in the living room. The house was quiet, but the air wasn’t.
It felt… watched.
Mark dropped the shoe on the table gently.
“Tell me everything, Helen. All of it. No lies.”
—
Helen took a deep breath and began.
“Lilly wasn’t supposed to be near the lake that day. Sarah had warned her over and over again. But we were both distracted. There was an argument… a very big one.”
Mark leaned in.
“Between who?”
Helen lowered her head.
“Me and Sarah. I was… I was jealous. She had everything. A daughter, a good job, peace. I had just lost my second pregnancy. I was bitter. Angry at God. And that day, I said something unforgivable.”
Tears slid down her face.
“I told her she didn’t deserve Lilly. That she was too careless to be a mother.”
Mark’s eyes widened.
Helen sniffed, trembling.
“Lilly overheard us. She ran out crying. And we didn’t even notice.”
Her voice broke.
“By the time we did, John was already in the water, fighting to bring her out. But it was too late. He… drowned trying.”
—
Mark sat back in silence. It was more than he had expected.
But something didn’t add up.
“Why was John’s death ruled as an accident if he died saving her?”
Helen looked up slowly, pain etched on every inch of her face.
“Because… someone lied. Someone from the estate covered it up. They said John was careless. They didn’t want the bad press. They said he slipped on the job, fell, and died. His death was paid off with silence.”
Mark whispered.
“And Lilly?”
Helen nodded slowly.
“They buried her… but Sarah never healed. She died a year later from heartbreak.”
Mark closed his eyes.
This wasn’t just a story about a ghost.
It was a story about injustice.
A soul that had been denied honor.
And a child who had never known peace.
—
Suddenly, the lights in the room flickered.
The air grew colder.
Helen stood, clutching her arms.
“Something’s here, Mark.”
And then they both heard it.
A soft hum.
A child’s voice… singing.
“Ring around the roses… pocket full of…”
Mark’s breath caught.
The sound was coming from upstairs.
From his bedroom.
They climbed the stairs slowly, heartbeats loud in the silence.
Mark opened the door.
And stopped.
There, on his bed, was a wet letter, sealed in a transparent plastic bag. The paper looked old… like it had been buried under rain for years.
Helen stepped forward and opened it.
Inside was a shaky handwritten note.
> “Mummy, I saw the man with the kind eyes. He tried to help me. Tell him I’m not angry. But I want the truth to come out. So I can sleep. So I can stop crying. —Lilly”
Helen fell to her knees, weeping.
Mark stood in silence.
The man with the kind eyes… John.
Lilly’s ghost had left a letter.
—
Just then, the bedroom mirror cracked—without anyone touching it.
And in the corner of the room, they both saw her.
A small girl… soaked in water… holding a teddy bear.
She wasn’t scary.
She looked… tired.
She opened her mouth and whispered:
“Tell the man… his time is almost up.”
Then she vanished.
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Years, But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!”
EPISODE 4
The rain had stopped, but the chill in the air seemed to cling to Helen and Mark as they stood in the now-dark room. The mirror was still cracked, the jagged lines reflecting the dim light like a fractured soul.
Helen was still kneeling on the floor, holding the letter Lilly had left. Her hands trembled as she tried to read the words over and over, hoping that somehow the message would change, or make sense in a way that it didn’t before.
“Tell the man… his time is almost up.”
Mark stared at the empty spot where Lilly had been, his mind racing.
“What does she mean?” Mark whispered, the words almost choked in his throat. “Why would she say that?”
Helen’s eyes were red from crying, but the urgency in her voice cut through the sorrow.
“Mark, it’s not just about John. It’s about all of us. All the lies we’ve buried… Lilly knew the truth. And she’s angry. But she’s also asking us to make it right.”
Mark glanced at the empty space in the room, the overwhelming presence of something unseen filling the air.
“But how? How do we make it right? John is gone… Lilly’s gone… Sarah is gone…” he trailed off, his voice breaking.
Helen stood slowly, wiping away her tears.
**“Because of us, Mark. Because of the lies we told. All of us—Sarah, John, even me. I protected myself. I lied to myself. And I buried the truth about what happened that day…”
She took a deep breath, walking toward the window. The mansion was silent, but it felt too quiet. As if everything was holding its breath, waiting for something to unfold.
“The truth is, John didn’t die by accident.” She paused, her voice trembling. “He died because of a decision I made. I never told you, but… I was the one who pushed him to save Lilly.”
Mark stared at her, completely stunned.
“You… pushed him?”
Helen nodded, her voice shaky.
“I couldn’t swim, Mark. I couldn’t save her. So I told John to go in after her. But I didn’t warn him about the currents. I didn’t tell him how dangerous it was.”
Mark could hardly process what he was hearing.
“You didn’t tell him?”
Helen’s face twisted in guilt, her eyes haunted.
“No, Mark. I didn’t. And it cost him his life.”
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—
A sudden sound—like footsteps—echoed from the staircase. Both Helen and Mark spun around, hearts racing.
They both heard it now, loud and clear. A child’s laughter. Faint, but distinct. It came from somewhere deep within the house.
Mark grabbed Helen’s arm.
“What is that? Where’s it coming from?”
Helen’s eyes were wide with fear.
“It’s not just Lilly… It’s the past catching up to us.”
They followed the sound, walking slowly, cautiously, until they reached the old attic door at the far end of the hall. It was ajar, and the laughter was growing louder now, mixed with soft whispers, almost like a chant.
“She’s here. We have to stop this, Mark,” Helen said, her voice filled with dread.
Mark nodded, his hand gripping the door handle.
—
The attic was dark and cold, the air thick with dust. As they stepped inside, a cold breeze hit them, and the laughter stopped. In the silence, the only sound was their breathing.
They moved forward cautiously, and then Mark stopped.
There, in the corner of the attic, was a small wooden chest. It had an old, rusty lock on it. Mark’s heart raced as he approached it.
“This is it,” Helen whispered. “Whatever is in that chest… it’s what we’ve been hiding all these years.”
Mark bent down, his fingers trembling as he fumbled with the lock. It clicked open with a faint creak, and the lid slowly lifted, revealing a stack of yellowed papers, photographs, and an old, torn letter.
Helen gasped as she recognized the handwriting.
“Sarah’s handwriting…”
Mark carefully pulled out the letter and read the first few lines aloud.
> “I can’t forgive myself. I told you not to go near the lake, but you ran anyway. You didn’t deserve what happened. I should’ve saved you, but I was too late. Now I’m left with the truth, and I fear it will never set me free…”
Helen’s voice faltered. “Sarah… she knew all along. She knew John’s death wasn’t an accident. But she couldn’t live with it. She took the guilt on herself…”
Mark read on, his heart pounding.
> “But the worst of it… the worst thing I’m guilty of, is hiding the truth from you, John. You weren’t just trying to save Lilly. You were trying to save me. And I didn’t let you.”
Suddenly, it clicked. The air felt heavier, suffocating, as if everything had been building toward this very moment. The truth had been buried with Sarah.
—
Mark closed the letter with trembling hands.
“So it wasn’t just an accident. Sarah’s guilt… it consumed her. And John… he sacrificed everything, not just for Lilly, but for her…”
Helen nodded, tears streaming down her face.
“I never knew, Mark. I didn’t know how deep it went.”
The attic suddenly grew colder, and the laughter returned. But this time, it wasn’t a child’s laugh.
It was John’s voice.
“You don’t have long left, Mark,” his voice echoed through the walls, sending a chill through both of them.
Helen gasped. “What does he mean?”
Mark turned, his heart pounding in his chest.
Suddenly, everything in the room seemed to go dark. The walls seemed to close in.
The truth was about to come to light—but it would cost someone their life.
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Year , But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!”
EPISODE 5
The night in the attic felt endless. The broken mirror glistened, Sarah’s old letter lay open, and the silence pressed on Mark and Helen like a heavy stone.
Mark’s hands shook as he tried to steady the paper. His eyes kept returning to the words Sarah had written, but his mind was stuck on something else ,something that didn’t add up.
Why had John chosen him? Out of all the people in Emberwood, why had John’s spirit stood at his gate for ten years? Why guard him? Why speak to him as if he had been waiting all along?
Helen wiped her tears and spoke softly.
“Mark… do you see it now? He wasn’t just any man. He gave his life for that child. He gave his peace for this truth.”
Mark looked at her, his jaw tight.
“But why me, Helen? Why has he stayed with me all this time? I didn’t even know him. I never met him before Emberwood. Yet he chose to stand at my gate.”
Helen lowered her head.
“Maybe you remind him of something… or someone.”
—
The air grew colder. A sound creaked from the corner of the attic. The chest they had opened began to move on its own.
Mark and Helen froze as a photograph slid out from between the old files and fell to the floor.
Mark bent slowly to pick it up.
It was a black-and-white photograph. Two young boys , identical in face, smiling side by side.
Mark’s eyes widened. His lips parted, but no words came.
Helen leaned forward.
“Who are they?”
Mark’s voice cracked.
“One of them… is me.”
Helen’s eyes grew wide. “And the other?”
Mark’s heart raced as he stared at the second boy in the picture. The same sharp jaw, the same deep eyes… but softer. Kinder.
“John,” Mark whispered. His knees felt weak. “It’s John.”
—
Tears stung his eyes as memories he thought he had forgotten began to rise.
He remembered being very young, maybe four or five, holding the hand of another boy. Running in the rain. Laughing. Sharing bread in the backyard of a small house.
But then… the memories faded into blankness. A car. A move. A new life.
Mark dropped to the floor, clutching the photo. His voice was full of pain.
“He was my brother… my blood. All these years, I never knew. My parents ,why didn’t they tell me?”
Helen covered her mouth, her face pale.
“So that’s it. That’s why John stayed. That’s why Lilly’s ghost spoke about you. Because it was never about you dying, Mark… it was about you remembering. About you knowing who he really was.”
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Suddenly, the attic air grew heavier, colder. The cracked mirror on the wall began to shimmer.
And then he was there.
John. Standing in the broken reflection. His uniform neat, his face calm, but his eyes burning with something deeper—grief.
Mark stood shakily, holding the photograph in his hand. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
“John… Brother. Why? Why didn’t you tell me? Ten years you stood at my gate. Ten years, I greeted you like a stranger… and you never said it.”
John’s ghostly form didn’t move, but his voice filled the room, steady and sorrowful.
“Because you had forgotten me, Mark. And I couldn’t forgive you… not yet. You left me in suffering. You left me in silence. While you grew rich and powerful, I was buried in a shallow grave of lies.”
Mark’s whole body shook. He dropped to his knees, clutching the photo against his chest.
“I didn’t know… I swear I didn’t know. They never told me I had a brother. They never told me you died here.”
John’s voice broke for the first time.
“And yet, even without knowing… every day, I stood guard at your gate. Not because you were my master, Mark. But because you were my blood.”
Tears streamed down Mark’s face. His chest felt like it would burst from the weight of regret.
“I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry. I never asked who you were. I never looked at you closely. I treated you like just another worker. My own brother… and I didn’t see you.”
The attic was silent except for Mark’s sobs.
Helen turned her face away, unable to stop her own tears.
—
Then John’s eyes softened. His voice lowered, heavy with pain but also love.
“You were blind, Mark. But not wicked. What hurt me wasn’t that you didn’t know… but that you never asked. Not once in ten years did you ask who I was, or where I came from.”
Mark nodded, his head bowed low to the dusty floor.
“You’re right. I was proud, arrogant. I only cared about my wealth, my pain, my betrayals. I never looked at the man who stood by me every morning. If I could turn back time, John… I would have hugged you. I would have told you _ thank you, brother. Thank you for never leaving me.”
For the first time in ten years, John’s ghost stepped forward. The air warmed slightly, and his face softened into something almost human.
“You can’t turn back time, Mark. But you can honor it. Tell the world who I was. Tell them I wasn’t just your gateman ,I was your brother. Let them remember my name.”
Mark clutched the photo tighter. His voice was a whisper through tears.
“I will. I swear, I will.”
—
Helen spoke through her sobs.
“John… what about Lilly? She said she wanted peace.”
John turned toward her, his eyes deep and heavy.
“When truth is spoken, peace will come. The child’s voice will rest. And maybe… so will mine.”
Slowly, his image began to fade from the mirror, like smoke leaving a dying fire.
“Goodbye, Mark,” he whispered. “This time… don’t forget me.”
And then he was gone.
—
Mark stayed kneeling on the floor, his body shaking, his tears dropping onto the old photo.
The boy he had forgotten… the man he had ignored… the brother who had guarded him in silence.
His blood.
And now, finally, he knew.
But knowing came with pain.
A pain he would carry forever.
Just then, Helen gasped. She had picked up another file from the chest. A birth record. Her lips trembled as she read the name.
“Mark… this can’t be. It says… there was a third child.”
Mark’s head shot up, his eyes burning with shock.
“A third?”
Before Helen could answer, the cracked mirror on the wall shook violently
and a faint child’s voice whispered from the glass:
“I’m still here.”
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Year , But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!
EPISODE 6
The attic was filled with heavy silence. The pieces of the cracked mirror glistened faintly in the dim light, scattering broken reflections of Mark’s trembling hands. Helen’s breathing was shaky, and her eyes were fixed on the old birth record in her lap.
Her lips moved slowly as she read aloud, voice breaking with every word:
“Mark Brown. John Brown. Lilly Brown.”
Mark’s eyes froze on the page. For a moment, his heart forgot how to beat. He reached out and snatched the record from her, staring at the faded ink as if it were alive. His lips trembled.
“Lilly…” His voice cracked. “She… she was my sister?”
His knees buckled beneath him, and he leaned against the old wooden wall for support. His chest rose and fell in quick bursts, the record trembling violently in his hands.
“My sister drowned in that lake… and John died trying to save her… and all this time I thought they were strangers. My own blood, Helen. My own family.”
He lowered himself to the dusty floor, pressing his face into his hands. His sobs were heavy, breaking through the silence of the attic.
“What kind of man am I? A full-grown man, yet I didn’t even know my own blood.”
Helen wiped her tears and sat near him. Her voice was low, filled with sorrow.
“Mark, this isn’t your fault alone. How could you have known if they never told you?”
Mark’s head snapped up, his eyes red and swollen.
“My parents,” he said bitterly. “They did this. They cut me off from my own blood.”
His hands shook as he clutched the old record tighter.
“I remember now. I was a boy, maybe four or five. They sent me away. Said it was for education, for a better life. I thought John would come with me… but when I returned years later, there was no John. No Lilly. Only silence.”
His voice grew harder.
“They loved their wealth more than truth. They buried their shame in riches. They never told me about the brother who died a hero, or the sister who drowned as a child. They carried it all to their graves.”
His body shook as he whispered:
“And I let them. I never asked. I never searched. I buried them and took their inheritance, thinking that was all life was about. And in my blindness, I lived beside my brother for ten years without seeing him.”
—
Helen’s tears rolled freely as she listened. She touched his shoulder softly.
“Mark, they silenced you with lies, but blood doesn’t stay hidden forever. John stayed at your gate because blood cannot be erased. And Lilly’s spirit remained because no one spoke her name as family. They were waiting for you to remember.”
Mark clutched the photograph of himself and John as little boys. His fingers traced the smiling faces, his tears dropping onto the paper.
“If I had only looked closer. If I had looked into John’s eyes, maybe I would have seen myself in him. But I was too proud. Too blind.”
He slammed the photograph against his chest, his voice breaking.
“My brother stood outside my mansion every day. My sister cried beneath the waters of Emberwood. And I..” he sobbed louder— “I was here counting money, chasing power. What kind of life is that? What kind of man forgets his own blood?”
Suddenly, the cracked mirror shimmered faintly.
Helen gasped and grabbed Mark’s arm.
“Mark… look.”
And there, in the broken glass, a small figure appeared.
Lilly.
Her little dress was damp, her teddy bear clutched tightly in her small arms. Her eyes were wide—not haunting, but filled with sadness and longing.
Mark crawled forward on his knees, tears streaming down his face. His voice was hoarse, raw with regret.
“My sister…” His lips shook. “Forgive me. Forgive your brother for living as if you never existed.”
The little ghost tilted her head softly. Her lips trembled as her faint voice drifted through the broken glass.
“I only wanted to be remembered… not as a stranger, but as your sister.”
Mark let out a cry that shook the attic. He pressed his forehead to the floor, clutching the birth record and photograph tightly.
“You will be, Lilly. From this day, you will never be forgotten again. I will speak your name. The world will know you were mine. My blood. My sister.”
The air in the attic softened. The faint figure of Lilly smiled weakly, her small form flickering like a candle in the wind. Then, slowly, she began to fade, leaving behind the echo of her words.
Helen wiped her face with her scarf, whispering through her tears,
“She’s at peace now, Mark. She has been waiting for this moment.”
Mark stood shakily, his chest still heaving with sobs. His face was streaked with tears, but his jaw was set.
“I lost John to silence. I lost Lilly to water. I lost my parents to pride. But I will not lose their memory. Not anymore. I will carry them with me, Helen. I will carry their names until my last breath.”
He gripped the photograph and record firmly, his hands no longer trembling but strong with resolve.
As they turned to leave the attic, something strange happened.
The cracked mirror glistened once more—not with Lilly’s face, but with the reflection of Emberwood Lake. The water shimmered in the broken glass, rippling gently as if calling out.
Mark froze. His voice was low, heavy, and firm.
“It all began at the lake, Helen. And at the lake… it must end.”
Helen covered her mouth, her eyes widening in fear and anticipation.
Mark’s eyes burned with tears and fire at the same time.
“I am going back there. To face the water that swallowed my blood. To bring them peace. To bring myself peace.”
The mirror cracked further, a loud snap echoing through the attic.
And then, silence.
Mark’s words still echoed in the attic:
“I am going back there. To face the water that swallowed my blood. To bring them peace. To bring myself peace.”
—
That same night, Mark walked down the lonely path that led to Emberwood Lake. The moonlight shone faintly on the water, its surface calm, as if nothing tragic had ever happened there. But to Mark, it was a graveyard. The place that held his brother and sister.
He stood at the edge, his shoes sinking into the soft, wet sand. His hands shook as he clutched the photograph of himself and John. Tears streamed freely down his face.
“My brother… my sister… I should have been there. I should have known you. I don’t deserve this life of wealth while you lie forgotten under this water.”
Slowly, he began to step forward. His feet touched the cold waves, inch by inch. The water reached his ankles. His eyes were empty, his body trembling.
“I will come to you,” he whispered. “I will join you… maybe then, I can be free.”
Helen, who had followed him at a distance, screamed in horror.
“Mark! No!”
She ran, her scarf flying behind her, her tears blinding her eyes. She grabbed his arm with all her strength, sobbing loudly.
“Please, Mark! Don’t do this! You are alive for a reason! Don’t let the water take you too! John and Lilly don’t want you dead — they want you to remember them. They want you to live for them, not die with them!”
Her cries echoed across the silent lake, her tears falling into the water.
Mark stood frozen, torn between the pull of the river and the weight of Helen’s words. His chest heaved, his fists clenched, his eyes staring at the dark water that seemed to call his name.
—
The night was thick with tension. Would he fall into the lake, or would her words pull him back?
The water rippled strangely, as if something beneath it was waiting.
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Year , But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!
EPISODE 7
The wind blew gently across Emberwood Lake. The water shimmered under the moonlight, calm on the surface but heavy with memories. Mark stood at the edge, his shoes sinking into the damp soil, the cold water now touching his feet.
His chest heaved as he stared at the dark waves. His tears mixed with the night air.
“John… Lilly…” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I failed you both. I should have been there. I should have known. I don’t deserve to be here while you rest in silence.”
He took another step forward, the water splashing against his trousers.
Behind him, Helen’s cries broke the night.
“Mark, stop! Please!”
She ran to him, clutching his arm tightly, her tears streaming uncontrollably. Her voice shook with desperation.
“You are not the one meant to drown, Mark! You are the one left to speak for them! Don’t let the lake take you too. Don’t leave me here with their story unfinished.”
Mark closed his eyes. The photograph of himself and John was clutched tightly in his hand. He could almost feel John’s presence at his side, the way he always stood quietly at the gate.
And in the distance, he thought he heard the faint sound of a child’s laughter — soft, sad, but gentle.
His voice cracked.
“I was blind, Helen. I had everything… but I was the poorest man alive. I lost my family before I even knew them. And now, every time I breathe, it feels like I’m stealing air from John… from Lilly.”
Helen dropped to her knees in the wet sand, sobbing harder.
“No, Mark! You are alive because their story is not finished. If you die here, who will tell the world? Who will clear John’s name as a hero? Who will speak Lilly’s name as your sister? If you give up, their truth will be buried forever.”
Mark shook his head slowly, staring at the endless dark water. His voice was hoarse, broken.
“But maybe if I join them… maybe they will forgive me.”
Helen gripped his arm tighter, her voice rising in anguish.
“They have already forgiven you, Mark! John stayed by your gate for ten years, not to punish you, but to guard you. Lilly’s spirit came, not to curse you, but to remind you of love. They don’t want you dead. They want you to live for them.”
Her cries echoed across the quiet lake, her words clinging to the night.
Mark’s body trembled. He looked down at his reflection in the water — and for a moment, he didn’t see himself.
He saw John. Standing there in uniform, calm as always.
And beside him, Lilly, clutching her teddy bear, smiling faintly.
Mark’s heart shattered. He fell to his knees at the water’s edge, his hands covering his face.
“My brother… my sister… I see you. I hear you. Forgive me for forgetting. Forgive me for being blind.”
The lake rippled softly, as if answering him.
Helen knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders despite her own shaking body.
“Mark… don’t give the lake another life. Give it a memory. Let this place no longer be a grave, but a place of remembrance. Build them peace, not pain.”
Mark lowered his head, his tears falling into the water. Slowly, he pulled the photograph of himself and John from his pocket. His fingers caressed the worn paper one last time.
Then, with a trembling hand, he placed it gently on the surface of the water. The photo floated for a moment, the young faces smiling up at him, before the waves slowly carried it away.
The lake grew still. The air softened. For the first time, Mark felt a strange calm in his chest. Not joy, not freedom, but a quiet understanding.
He whispered, his voice breaking,
“John… Lilly… I will live for you. I will speak your names. You will never be forgotten again.”
Helen wept beside him, whispering,
“Thank you, Mark. Thank you for choosing life.”
But just as they stood to leave, the surface of the lake rippled again — stronger this time. The photo that had begun to sink suddenly rose, floating back to the shore at Mark’s feet.
He bent down, his hand shaking as he picked it up.
And there, on the photo, something new had appeared — words written in faint, wet ink that hadn’t been there before.
“We are waiting at the gate.”
Mark’s breath caught. His eyes widened in shock.
Helen gasped, clutching his arm.
“Mark… what does it mean?”
Mark stared at the words, his voice low, heavy, and filled with dread.
“It means this is not over. John and Lilly… they’re not gone yet.”
The lake was calm again after returning the photograph. Mark stood frozen, Helen at his side, both of them staring at the faint words that had appeared:
“We are waiting at the gate.”
Mark’s lips trembled. His voice broke into the night air.
“John… Lilly…”
That same night, when they returned to the mansion, the air inside the house was thick, heavy, almost unbreathable. As Mark stepped into the living room, the temperature dropped. The radio John once kept at the gate began to play faintly on its own.
Helen clutched Mark’s hand.
“They’re here.”
And then—Mark saw them.
John and Lilly. Standing together at the bottom of the grand staircase. Their faces pale, filled with sorrow. Lilly clutched her teddy bear; John’s cap rested neatly on his head.
Mark’s legs trembled as tears filled his eyes.
“My brother… my sister…”
John’s voice was low, steady, but heavy with grief.
“Our spirits will not leave this house, Mark. Not until we return. Not until our blood lives again.”
Lilly’s small voice followed, soft and broken.
“Bring us back, brother. Not as ghosts… but in your children. Let us live again through you.”
Mark’s heart shook violently. He dropped to his knees on the cold floor, clutching his chest.
“All these years, I thought wealth was my crown. But I see now… without family, wealth is dust. You want me to build what our parents destroyed. You want me to give you life again.”
The spirits stood silently, their eyes filled with sorrow that cut deeper than any knife.
That night, Mark made his decision.
“I will marry,” he whispered to himself. “But not for money. Not for name. I will marry for love. I will find a woman who will stand with me in truth, not in riches. A woman who will give me children—not for my inheritance, but for my heart. Through them, John… Lilly… you will live again.”
Helen placed a trembling hand on his shoulder. “Mark… that is the only way. That is what they want.”
The days that followed became a journey.
Mark, one of the richest men in the country, began to test the world of women around him. But the reality broke his heart.
At every corner, he met ladies who smiled only when they heard his name… ladies who bent sweet words only when they saw his cars… ladies whose love was built on the weight of his wallet, not the weight of his soul.
He listened quietly as some whispered behind him:
“He is rich—hold him fast!”
“He is a ticket to freedom!”
“He is money, not a man.”
Mark’s chest burned with disappointment. Each encounter became a lesson—a painful reality about desperation, greed, and false love.
One evening, sitting alone in his silent mansion, Mark spoke aloud to the ghosts of his siblings.
“If I stay in this city, I will never find love that is true. Only gold diggers. Only lies. If I must bring you back, I must leave everything behind.”
He stood slowly, his decision burning in his chest.
“I will leave this city. I will go where money has no power. Where a woman will see me for who I am—not for what I own. I will live as a poor man, and from there… maybe, just maybe, I will find true love.”
The next morning, Mark packed a small bag. No cars, no servants, no suits. He left his mansion silently, wearing the simple clothes of a commoner. His fine shoes were replaced with worn sandals. His face carried no pride of wealth, only the hunger for truth.
He took the first bus out of the city, traveling toward a quiet local town far away from Emberwood.
As the bus rolled down the dusty road, Mark leaned against the window. His reflection stared back at him, tired but determined.
“I will disguise myself as poor. I will hide my name. And in that poverty, if a woman loves me… then she is the one. Through her, John and Lilly will return.”
His tears dropped quietly as the bus moved on. Behind him, the city lights faded into the distance. Ahead, a new life—one filled with trials, lessons, and perhaps… love.
That night, as the bus reached the small town, Mark stepped down with his little bag. The wind was cool, the streets quiet, the people humble. He looked around, his heart racing with both fear and hope.
He whispered into the night,
“Brother… Sister… wait for me. I will not fail you again.”
But as he took his first step into the small town, he didn’t know what awaited him.
Would he find true love here?
Or would the hunger, greed, and desperation of the world follow him even into his disguise?
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Year , But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!
EPISODE 8
The bus dropped Mark at a small town far from Emberwood. The air smelled of wet soil, roasted corn, and wood smoke. The streets were narrow, the houses built with mud and wood, and children played barefoot under the fading sun.
Mark stood with his small bag, dressed in a faded shirt and worn sandals. Nobody recognized him here. Nobody cared about his wealth. For the first time in his life, he was just a man.
He took a deep breath.
“This is where my new life begins,” he whispered. “Here, I will find love that is real. Here, my brother and sister will find peace.”
That night, he rented a small room in a mud house at the edge of the town. The roof leaked when rain fell, and the bed was nothing more than bamboo covered with an old mat. But Mark slept there without complaint.
He dreamed of John and Lilly, standing together, smiling faintly. Their voices echoed softly:
“Don’t give up, brother. Not this time.”
The next morning, Mark joined the townspeople at the market square. He carried loads for traders, swept floors, and worked with his bare hands. Many looked at him and shook their heads.
“Poor man,” some whispered.
“He is strong, but he has nothing.”
Mark didn’t answer them. He only worked harder. He wanted them to see his heart, not his money.
Days turned into weeks. Mark met many young women in the town. But one by one, they showed their true colors.
One girl smiled at him sweetly, but when she saw his torn sandals, she laughed behind his back.
Another promised to marry him, but only if he could buy her gold earrings and a new wrapper.
A third held his hand and said she loved him, yet the moment she saw him working as a laborer in the market, she walked away with shame.
Each time, Mark felt his heart sink.
“So this is love?” he asked himself at night. “Is there no woman who will love me for who I am, not what I have?”
One evening, Mark sat under the big mango tree in the town square, tired and covered in dust from the day’s work. Helen had come to visit him secretly from the city. She brought food wrapped in a cloth and sat beside him.
“Mark,” she said softly, “are you sure you can endure this? You are used to wealth, to comfort. These women don’t see your heart, they only see your poverty. How long will you wait?”
Mark looked at her, his face serious but calm.
“As long as it takes. If I must wait one year, I will wait. John and Lilly cannot rest until I build a family of truth. I will not return to the city with lies. I must find love here.”
As they spoke, a young woman walked past carrying a basket of firewood on her head. Her clothes were simple, her feet bare, her face tired but kind. She stumbled, and the firewood spilled onto the ground.
Mark quickly stood and ran to help her. He lifted the heavy logs and placed them back in the basket.
“Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his. Unlike the others, she did not laugh at his dirty clothes or his rough hands. She only smiled gently, then walked away.
Mark watched her go, something stirring in his chest.
“Who is she?” he asked a man nearby.
The man chuckled. “That’s Anna. She is poor like you. Her parents are gone, and she works hard every day to survive. Many men avoid her because she has nothing to offer.”
Mark’s eyes followed her fading figure.
“She may have nothing… but I saw kindness in her eyes.”
That night, as he lay on his bamboo bed, Mark closed his eyes and whispered,
“John… Lilly… maybe this is the beginning. Maybe this is where the story changes.”
And just as he was about to sleep, a soft breeze blew through the broken window. He thought he heard John’s voice again, deep and calm:
“Choose wisely, brother. Not every smile is pure.”
Mark’s heart raced. He sat up quickly, his eyes wide in the dark.
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Year , But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!
EPISODE 9
The days in the small town turned into weeks. Mark worked with his hands every morning—sweeping the market, carrying water, helping farmers on their land. His clothes were always dirty, his palms rough with blisters, but for the first time in his life, he felt human.
And every time he saw Anna, something in his heart stirred.
She carried firewood, fetched water, and sold vegetables in the market. She was always busy, always quiet, but always kind. She never looked down on him the way the others did. She never laughed at his torn sandals or his simple clothes.
Yet Mark did not rush. He wanted to be sure. He wanted to see if her kindness came from her heart—or if it would change if she ever found out who he really was.
—
One evening, Mark helped Anna again when her basket of yams fell by the roadside. She smiled gratefully.
“You always appear when I am in trouble,” she said softly.
Mark chuckled. “Maybe I was sent for that.”
Anna laughed lightly, the sound simple but sweet. Then her eyes grew serious.
“Why do you work so hard, even though you own so little? Most poor men in this town give up. They complain. But you… you keep going.”
Mark looked at her, his chest tightening. He wanted to say because I am not poor… but he swallowed the truth.
Instead, he said quietly,
“Because work is the only way to keep dignity. A man is not measured by what he has, but by what he can give.”
Anna’s eyes softened, and for a moment, Mark saw something shine in them—respect.
—
But not everyone in the town was pleased.
Some of the village girls had noticed Anna and Mark speaking more often. They began to gossip at the well.
“Anna thinks she has caught a man,” one sneered. “But what does he even have? Just dust and sweat.”
Another laughed. “Maybe he is fooling her. Or maybe she is fooling him. A poor man and a poor girl—what kind of future is that?”
The gossip spread quickly. Soon, some young women approached Mark openly, pretending to be interested in him.
One evening, a lady named Clara came to him, smiling sweetly.
“Mark, why waste your time with Anna? She is nothing. If you marry me, I can give you respect. My uncle owns land. I can give you comfort.”
Mark looked at her carefully. Her smile was wide, but her eyes were sharp with greed.
He shook his head slowly. “I’m not looking for land. I’m looking for love.”
Clara’s smile disappeared, replaced with anger. “Then you are a fool.” She turned and stormed away.
—
That night, Mark lay on his mat in the small mud room, staring at the broken ceiling. John’s words came back to him: Not every smile is pure.
He closed his eyes, and once again, he saw John and Lilly in his dream.
John stood tall in his uniform, his face calm. Lilly clutched her teddy bear.
“Brother,” John said in a steady voice, “be careful. Love is not tested by smiles, but by sacrifice.”
Lilly added softly, “Choose with your heart, not with your eyes.”
Mark woke with tears in his eyes.
—
The next morning, he saw Anna at the market, struggling to sell her vegetables. The sun was hot, sweat dripped from her face, and customers were passing her by.
Mark walked over and sat beside her mat. Without a word, he began to help her call customers.
“Fresh vegetables! Fresh and cheap!” he shouted, waving his hands.
People gathered. Slowly, her basket emptied.
When they were done, Anna looked at him with tears in her eyes.
“You worked for me as if you were my brother… or more. Why?”
Mark smiled faintly.
“Because when you love people, you serve them. Even when you have nothing, you can still give.”
Anna’s eyes lingered on him, her lips trembling. But before she could speak, a loud voice interrupted.
—
It was Clara, the girl who had mocked Mark earlier. She had gathered other women and was pointing at Anna.
“Look at her! She thinks she has found a husband in a beggar! Mark has nothing—no land, no money, no future. Anna, you are a fool to follow him!”
The crowd laughed cruelly. Some clapped their hands in mockery.
Anna’s face flushed with shame. Her hands shook as she tried to gather her empty basket.
Mark stood slowly, his eyes burning with quiet fire. He looked around at the laughing crowd, then at Anna, whose tears had begun to fall.
He clenched his fists, his chest rising and falling heavily.
This was the moment.
Would Anna run away in shame like the others?
Or would she stand beside him in the face of their laughter?
The silence was heavy as all eyes turned to Anna.
Her lips trembled. Her tears fell.
And then—she made a choice that left everyone frozen.
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Year , But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!
EPISODE 10
The market square was noisy with laughter. Clara and the other women clapped their hands, mocking Anna loudly.
“See her!” Clara shouted. “A poor girl and a beggar boy—what a match! What future can two empty hands build?”
The crowd roared. Some even pointed fingers at Mark, shaking their heads.
Anna’s face was red, her eyes filled with tears. Her hands trembled as she bent down to pick up her basket. For a moment, it looked as if she would walk away in shame.
Mark’s chest tightened. His eyes burned with silent pain. This was the test. Would Anna leave like the others? Or would she stand?
The air grew heavy, all eyes waiting.
—
Then, Anna stopped. She straightened her back slowly, wiping her tears with the edge of her wrapper. She lifted her head high and looked around at the crowd.
Her voice was shaky at first, but grew stronger with every word.
“Yes. Mark has nothing. No land. No money. Not even good shoes on his feet.” She paused, her lips trembling. “But he has something none of you see—he has a heart. A heart that helps, a heart that serves, a heart that loves.”
The market went quiet. Even Clara blinked in shock.
Anna’s tears streamed, but she continued firmly, her voice rising with emotion.
“I would rather marry a poor man with a good heart than a rich man with a wicked soul. You laugh at me today, but I am not ashamed. Because love is not shameful. Love is strength.”
She walked to Mark’s side and held his hand tightly, facing the mocking crowd.
“This man may look poor, but he is worth more to me than all the gold in this market.”
—
The silence was heavy. Then whispers spread.
“Did you hear her?”
“She chose him…”
“Even in poverty…”
Clara’s face burned with anger. She spat on the ground.
“Fools! Both of you! You will die hungry together!”
But as she stormed off, Mark turned to Anna, his eyes filled with tears.
“You stood by me…” His voice cracked. “When everyone mocked, you stood.”
Anna looked at him, her tears falling freely.
“Because love does not run away. If you were rich, I would still stand. If you are poor, I will still stand. It is not your pocket I love, Mark. It is you.”
—
Mark’s knees went weak. He dropped to the ground right there in the market, his hands covering his face as tears burst out. His whole body shook with sobs.
For the first time, he felt what he had been searching for—true love, not for money, not for name, but for who he was.
The villagers watched in silence. Some wiped their eyes secretly, moved by Anna’s courage. Others shook their heads, unable to understand such love.
But deep inside, something had changed.
—
That night, back in his small mud room, Mark sat with Anna by the oil lamp. Helen had joined them, tears shining in her eyes.
Mark spoke softly, his voice thick with emotion.
“All my life I was blind. Surrounded by wealth but starving of love. John and Lilly… they did not ask me to die. They asked me to live. To build a family that will carry their blood again. Anna… with you, I believe it is possible.”
Anna’s lips trembled. She looked at him, shocked.
“Mark… are you asking…?”
Mark held her hands gently. His eyes glistened with tears.
“Yes. Not with gold. Not with riches. But with all my heart. Will you marry me, Anna?”
Anna covered her mouth, tears rolling down. She nodded quickly, unable to speak. Finally, she whispered,
“Yes, Mark. Yes.”
—
As they embraced, the oil lamp flickered. The air in the small room grew warmer. And for a moment, both Mark and Anna saw them—John and Lilly—standing quietly in the corner.
John’s face was calm, proud. Lilly clutched her teddy bear, smiling faintly.
But just as quickly, their smiles faded. Their eyes grew heavy, almost sorrowful.
Mark’s heart pounded. He whispered,
“Brother… Sister… why are you not at peace yet?”
The spirits slowly faded, leaving behind a single chilling echo that made Anna and Helen gasp.
“Love is not enough, Mark… you must prove it.”
—
Mark froze. His grip on Anna’s hand tightened. Helen covered her face, whispering a prayer.
What did they mean? What more could be asked of him?
The night grew colder. The oil lamp flickered weakly.
And in the silence, Mark knew his journey was far from over.
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Year , But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!
EPISODE 11
The night after John and Lilly’s warning, Mark could not sleep. He lay on the bamboo mat with Anna beside him, her hand gently resting on his. The words echoed in his chest like thunder:
“Love is not enough, Mark… you must prove it.”
What did it mean? He had already found Anna, a woman who loved him for who he was. But his late siblings were not at peace. Something more was required.
The next morning, Mark woke early. He watched Anna as she prepared vegetables to take to the market. Her face glowed with quiet strength. She was poor, but her spirit was rich.
He whispered to himself,
“She stood for me when the world laughed. But will she still stand if she knows the truth of who I am?”
For the first time, Mark wondered—did Anna truly love him, or just the humble man she thought he was?
That week, Mark put her to the test.
One afternoon, he came to Anna with a sad face.
“Anna,” he said softly, “the landlord of my small room is demanding more rent. I do not have enough money. I may have to sleep outside.”
Anna looked at him, shocked. Then, without a second thought, she untied her wrapper and pulled out a little cloth bag. Inside were the few coins she had saved from selling vegetables.
“Take it,” she said firmly. “We will survive somehow. Better to be hungry together than for you to sleep in the street.”
Mark’s heart tightened. He stared at the coins in her hand, tears welling in his eyes. She had nothing, yet she gave him all she had.
—
But that was not the only test.
Later that week, Mark pretended to be sick. He lay weakly on the bamboo mat, his voice faint.
Anna rushed to his side, placing a wet cloth on his forehead. She spent the night fanning him, refusing to sleep.
When Helen came the next morning to check on him, she found Anna still awake, her eyes swollen with tears but full of determination.
“Why do you do this?” Helen asked her gently.
Anna looked at her with tired eyes.
“Because love is not only sweet words. Love is sacrifice.”
Mark’s chest burned as he lay pretending. His tears wet the mat. He finally understood what John had meant.
But the true twist came one evening when Mark and Anna walked through the market together. A group of men sat drinking palm wine and laughing loudly. One of them, bold and arrogant, stood up and blocked their path.
“Anna,” the man sneered, “why waste your time with this poor man? I have land. I have goats. I can give you a better life. Leave this beggar and come with me.”
The crowd laughed, clapping their hands.
Mark froze, his heart pounding. This was the moment.
Anna’s lips trembled, but then she turned and faced the man directly. Her voice was steady, her eyes sharp with truth.
“You may have land. You may have goats. But you don’t have love. I will not leave Mark for your riches. I would rather suffer with him in poverty than smile with you in lies.”
The crowd went silent. The man’s face turned red with shame. He spat angrily on the ground and walked away.
Mark turned to Anna, his eyes filled with tears.
“You have proven more than love, Anna. You have proven loyalty. My brother was right—love must be tested by sacrifice. And you… you have passed.”
That night, when Mark sat alone in his small room, the oil lamp flickered. Suddenly, the air shifted, and John appeared in the corner, Lilly by his side.
For the first time, they were smiling fully. John’s voice was calm, almost proud.
“Now you understand, brother. Love that is not tested cannot last. But you have found the one who will carry our blood. Through her, we will return.”
Lilly’s soft voice followed,
“Do not fail us, Mark. Marry her. Bear children. Let us live again through them.”
Mark fell to his knees, tears running down his face.
“I will not fail you, John. I will not fail you, Lilly. My children will carry your names. The world will know who you were.”
But just as the spirits began to fade, the oil lamp blew out suddenly, leaving the room in darkness.
Helen screamed. Anna clung to Mark.
And in the pitch black, a deep, strange voice whispered. Not John’s, not Lilly’s.
“If you marry her, you will lose everything.”
Mark’s blood ran cold. His fists clenched.
“Who is there?” he demanded, his voice shaking.
Slowly, the shadow of a young man appeared in the corner of the room. His eyes glowed faintly, his face twisted in anger.
Anna gasped, her whole body trembling. She fell to the floor, crying.
“Mark… it is him. My past.”
The shadow stepped closer, his voice low and bitter.
“She is mine. She swore to me before I died. She took an oath of love and loyalty with me. Her soul belongs to me. If you marry her, you will lose everything.”
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Year , But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!
EPISODE 12
The small room was heavy with silence. The oil lamp was out, the night air thick and cold. Only the faint glow of the shadowy figure filled the space.
Anna trembled where she knelt, her face buried in her hands. Her voice cracked as she cried out,
“Forgive me, Mark. I should have told you long ago… I should have told you before I gave you my heart.”
Mark’s chest tightened. His eyes stayed fixed on the shadow, but his voice broke.
“Anna… what is he saying? What oath?”
Anna lifted her tear-streaked face, her lips shaking.
“Before you came… before I ever knew you… I loved someone else. His name was David. He was poor like me. We promised each other forever.”
Her voice grew faint, her shoulders trembling.
“We were young… foolish. We went to the old shrine by the river. We made an oath… that death itself would not break our love. Days later, he fell sick and died suddenly. I thought it was over… but it seems death did not end it.”
The shadow stepped closer, his voice bitter and cold.
“She belongs to me, Mark. She swore it with blood. If you marry her, you fight me. If she bears your children, they will not carry your name… they will carry mine.”
Mark’s legs shook. He stumbled back, gripping the edge of the wooden bed for support. His whole body burned with fear and sorrow.
“Anna… why did you not tell me this?”
Anna crawled toward him on her knees, clutching his feet with trembling hands.
“Because I was afraid. Afraid you would leave me. Afraid I would lose the only man who ever stood by me. Mark… I love you, not him. I swear, I love you.”
Tears poured down her face. Her cries filled the small room like thunder.
Mark bent down, lifted her gently, and held her close. His own tears flowed freely.
“You should have told me, Anna. Love without truth cannot stand. But still… my heart will not let you go. Not to him. Not to anyone.”
The shadow laughed bitterly, the sound like wind through broken glass.
“You are strong, Mark. But you cannot fight a vow sealed in death. If you marry her, your wealth will turn to ashes. Your house will fall. Even your children will not be yours.”
Helen, who had been silent all along, suddenly stood up, her face pale but determined.
“Stop it!” she cried at the shadow. “If she made an oath in ignorance, then love can break it. If her heart no longer belongs to you, you have no right over her!”
The shadow turned his glowing eyes on Helen.
“You speak boldly, woman. But this is not your battle. Mark must choose—leave her, or fight me.”
Mark clenched his fists. His voice was firm, though it shook with pain.
“I will never leave her. I will fight for her. Even if it costs me everything.”
The shadow’s smile was cold.
“Then prepare to lose all, Mark Brown. I will not rest until she returns to me.”
With that, the shadow faded into the darkness. The air grew silent again, but the weight of his words remained.
Anna collapsed against Mark’s chest, weeping uncontrollably.
“I am sorry, Mark… I have brought you pain.”
Mark held her tightly, his tears falling into her hair.
“No, Anna. You have brought me love. And I will not give you back to death. If I must fight the past, I will fight it. If I must face spirits, I will face them. But you will be my wife.”
Helen’s eyes filled with tears. She whispered softly,
“Mark… John and Lilly said love must be proven. Maybe this is the test. Maybe this is what they meant.”
Mark looked up at the cracked ceiling, his jaw set, his voice steady.
“Then I will prove it. Not with words, but with my life. No shadow, no oath, no death will take Anna from me.”
Suddenly, the window burst open with a sharp wind. The old Bible from Anna’s room fell from the shelf, landing open on the floor.
Mark bent down and froze. On the open page, the words glowed faintly under the moonlight.
“The truth shall set you free.”
His heart pounded. Was this a sign?
He looked at Anna, then at Helen. His voice was heavy but sure.
“Tomorrow, we return to the shrine where the oath was made. If it is death that binds her, then truth will break it.”
The room grew colder, as if unseen ears were listening.
And then a faint whisper curled through the night air, chilling them all.
“You will not survive the shrine.”
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Year , But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!
EPISODE 13
The morning sun rose slowly over the small town, but for Mark, Anna, and Helen, the day felt heavy. The decision was made. They would return to the old shrine by the river, the same place where Anna had once sworn her deadly oath with her late lover.
Mark tied his sandals firmly and carried John’s Bible under his arm. His face was set, but his heart pounded in fear.
Anna walked quietly beside him, her hands shaking. Tears ran down her face as she whispered,
“Mark… what if the shadow was right? What if going back there destroys us both?”
Mark stopped and held her shoulders firmly. His eyes glistened with tears, but his voice was strong.
“Anna, listen to me. Love is not just words. It is sacrifice. If I die, I die fighting for you. If I live, I live with you. But one thing is sure—I will not leave you.”
Helen, walking behind them, wiped her eyes.
“God help us all,” she whispered.
The road to the shrine was long and rough. The trees grew thicker, the path darker. Birds flew away quickly as they passed, as if fleeing from something unseen.
Mark gripped Anna’s hand tightly. He remembered John’s voice in his dreams: Love is tested by sacrifice. He knew this was the sacrifice he had to make.
Finally, they reached the clearing.
The shrine stood silent, covered in moss and dust, but still heavy with the weight of promises made long ago.
Anna fell to her knees, crying bitterly.
“This is the place. This is where I ruined my life. I was young, foolish, desperate for love. And now, I have tied you to my mistake.”
Mark knelt beside her, lifting her chin gently.
“No, Anna. You have not ruined me. You have given me a chance to prove love. Look at me. You are my choice. Not gold, not riches, not power. You. And no shrine will take you from me.”
He opened John’s old Bible and began to read aloud, his voice shaking but firm.
“The truth shall set you free.”
As he spoke, the ground trembled slightly. The air grew colder. A faint laughter echoed through the trees.
The shadow appeared, his eyes glowing brighter than ever.
“You should have stayed away, Mark Brown. This place belongs to me. And so does she.”
Anna screamed and clung to Mark. Helen stepped back, praying under her breath.
Mark stood tall, holding the Bible high.
“She does not belong to you! She belongs to love. She belongs to life. She belongs to me.”
The shadow hissed, his voice thundering.
“Then fight me, Mark. If you win, she is yours. If you lose, you join me in death.”
The trees shook. The wind roared. The shrine glowed with strange light.
Anna fell at Mark’s feet, clutching his legs, her tears flowing.
“Mark, please… do not do this. He is stronger than us. Let me go. Let him take me instead.”
Mark bent down, holding her face gently.
“No, Anna. I will not let death have you. I would rather die than watch you taken from me.”
The shadow laughed again, stepping closer. His form grew larger, darker, filling the shrine with fear.
Helen screamed,
“Mark, look! Behind you!”
Mark turned sharply—
And his heart froze.
Standing behind him was not just the shadow of Anna’s dead lover… but the faint ghostly figure of John, his brother. His face was calm, but his eyes were full of warning.
Mark’s hands shook as he whispered,
“Brother… are you here to help me, or to take me away?”
John’s figure opened his mouth slowly.
But before any words came out, the shadow roared, shaking the entire shrine.
Billionaire Lives with His Gateman for 10 Year , But Never Knew He Was a Ghost!
EPISODE 14
The shrine shook with the sound of roaring wind. The shadow’s laughter echoed through the trees, deep and bitter, shaking Anna to her knees. She clung to Mark’s leg, trembling. Helen prayed loudly, clutching her scarf.
And then, through the dark glow, John appeared. His ghostly figure stood behind Mark, calm but heavy with sorrow. His uniform was neat, his cap resting on his head as always.
Mark’s heart pounded. His voice cracked as he whispered,
“John… brother… are you here to help me? Or to take me away?”
The air grew silent. The shadow hissed angrily at John.
“You have no right here. This battle is mine.”
But John raised his hand, and the ground shook softly. His voice was steady, firm, but filled with grief.
“Mark is my brother. His fight is mine. If he must face death, then he will not face it alone.”
Mark’s eyes filled with tears. His chest burned as he looked at John.
“Brother… for ten years you stood at my gate in silence. For ten years I called you a servant when you were my blood. Forgive me.”
John’s eyes softened. His ghostly face almost smiled.
“You were blind, but not wicked. Today, you see. And today, you must prove your love.”
The shadow roared, his form growing larger, towering over them. His voice thundered.
“Prove love? Love cannot break an oath made with death. She swore to me. Her soul is mine forever.”
Anna fell forward on the ground, weeping bitterly.
“Yes, I was foolish! Yes, I swore to you! But I did not know love then. I only know it now, with Mark. My heart is his. My life is his. I take back the vow!”
The shadow laughed cruelly, the sound shaking the trees.
“You cannot take it back. You swore by blood. Only blood can break it.”
The air grew heavier. Mark’s fists clenched tightly. His jaw trembled, but his eyes burned with fire.
“Then let it be my blood. If blood must be given, take mine. Take all of me—but leave Anna.”
Anna screamed, clutching his shirt.
“No, Mark! Don’t say that! I cannot lose you.”
Mark lifted her face gently, his tears dropping into her hair.
“Anna, I cannot live knowing you are bound to death. Better that I die freeing you than live watching you suffer.”
John stepped forward, his ghostly figure standing beside Mark.
“You are not alone, brother. If blood must be given, then let it be ours together.”
Mark’s chest heaved as he looked at John.
“No, brother. You already gave your life once. I cannot let you give again.”
John’s face grew stern.
“We are blood. And blood is never divided. If we must break this curse, we do it as one.”
Helen fell to her knees, crying loudly.
“God, have mercy! Save them!”
The shadow stretched his arms wide. His voice boomed like thunder.
“Then give your blood, Mark. Give it now. And watch your family line die with you.”
Mark gripped John’s Bible tightly in one hand, Anna’s trembling hand in the other. His tears streamed as he lifted his face to the sky.
“John, Lilly, Anna… hear me! I will not die here. I will not surrender. This shrine will not bury my family. This curse ends tonight!”
The Bible glowed faintly in his hand. The words on the page seemed to shine in the dark.
“The truth shall set you free.”
Suddenly, the ground cracked beneath them. The shrine walls trembled. The shadow screamed angrily.
“You cannot defeat me! Her oath is stronger than your love!”
But then, from the broken earth, a soft, clear voice rose—the voice of a child.
It was Lilly.
Her small figure appeared between Mark and the shadow, clutching her teddy bear. Her eyes were calm, her voice steady.
“You are wrong. Love is stronger than death. I was only six when I died, but even I know that truth. My brother’s love will break this curse.”
The shadow staggered back, his dark form flickering.
“No! She swore to me! She belongs to me!”
Lilly raised her small hand, pointing at Mark and Anna.
“She belongs to love. She belongs to life. And we will not let you take her.”
The shrine shook violently. The shadow’s roar filled the air. He lunged forward, stretching his dark hands toward Mark.
Mark shouted with all his strength, lifting the glowing Bible high.
“By truth, by love, by blood—we break this oath tonight!”
A blinding light burst from the Bible. Anna screamed, John roared, Lilly’s small voice echoed through the air.
The shadow let out a piercing cry, his form twisting, burning, and fading into the night.
For a moment, there was silence. Only the sound of heavy breathing, tears, and trembling hearts.
Then, John’s ghostly figure turned to Mark. His voice was gentle, filled with pride.
“You have proven love, brother. You have broken the chains.”
Mark fell to his knees, sobbing, clutching Anna in his arms.
“Thank you… John… thank you, Lilly. Rest now.”
But John shook his head slowly. His face grew dark again.
“No, Mark. The battle is not over. The shadow is not gone. He has only grown weaker. He will return… and when he does, he will not come alone.”
The air grew cold once more. The trees whispered.
And in the distance, across the river, another voice rose. A voice deeper, darker, heavier.
“You broke the first chain, Mark Brown… but now you have awakened me.”
