Janelle couldn’t shake the unease that lingered as she wandered through the house. It wasn’t just the whispered warnings or the unsettling flicker of the chandeliers—it was something deeper, something she couldn’t name.
Then, she found it. Hidden in the back of the third-floor study, behind an ornate mahogany bookcase, was a sealed doorway. The realtor hadn’t mentioned it, and judging by the dust gathered around its edges, no one had touched it in years.
Heart pounding, Janelle pried the door open. The hinges groaned like a creature waking from an uneasy sleep. Beyond the threshold lay a hidden room, untouched by time. Inside, she found old photographs, stacks of legal documents, and a single key resting atop a leather-bound journal.
The journal was dated May 7, 1998—the day a young woman named Evelyn March disappeared. She’d been the previous owner’s daughter, and every real estate record had conveniently erased her existence. Yet, here were pages upon pages of frantic entries, describing strange occurrences, shadowed figures, and—most chilling of all—the house whispering her name in the dead of night.
Janelle’s fingers tightened around the key. Was this house trying to lead her to the truth—or was it luring her into the same fate?