My Husband Said Floor 4 Didn't Exist While Draining My $145,000 Savings—Until His Ex Revealed The 1912 Pact Sealed Above Our Bedroom
👉 Previous action: You opened the hidden door to Floor 4, but it slammed shut under unseen force.
I pressed my eye to the keyhole, my breath clouding the cold brass. Through the tiny aperture, the flickering oil lamp cast long, distorted shadows.
A dark figure walked slowly down the unlit corridor of floor 4. Its form was indistinct, like a smudge of charcoal against the dim light, but its presence was undeniable.
My phone buzzed, vibrating against my leg. A bank alert flashed across the screen: another $25,000 pending transfer from my architectural firm’s payroll account. Julian.
Footsteps sounded at the bottom of the main stairs, heavy and deliberate. Julian was coming up.
The iron door hummed with a low vibration, the faint smell of sulfur intensifying. I gripped the crowbar, my knuckles white.
I could force the rusted latch completely, step inside, and confront whatever was waiting. Or I could retreat, seal the panel, and seek answers from someone who might know the building’s hidden history.
Choose your next action
Force the rusted iron latch completely and step inside floor 4 right now. — Read Chapter 4 to continue.
Lock the plaster panel and retreat down to unit 5A to speak with Agnes O’Malley. — Read Chapter 5 to continue.
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