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 decision: You chose to force the rusted iron latch completely and step inside floor 4.
I jammed the crowbar into the rusted latch, twisting with all my strength. The ancient metal shrieked and bent, giving way. The iron door swung inward with a groan, revealing total darkness.
I stepped into the freezing corridor of floor 4, my flashlight beam cutting through the oppressive gloom. The iron door slammed shut behind me with a deafening click. I spun around, pushing at the heavy metal, but the handle had vanished entirely, replaced by smooth, cold brickwork.
Trapped.
My flashlight beam danced across dark room after dark room. Each one held old furniture, shrouded in white dust sheets, and stacks of financial ledgers dating back to 1912. The air was still, heavy with the scent of decay.
No stairs led down. No exit. Above me, the familiar heavy footsteps continued to echo endlessly, rhythmic and relentless.
Down below, in the living world, Julian told the building association that I had left in the middle of the night due to emotional distress. He claimed my childhood memories in group homes had finally made me lose touch with reality.
He liquidated my business accounts. My whereabouts became permanently unknown. The footsteps continued.
⚠️ BAD ENDING / GAME OVER
The shadows consumed you and your legacy. 👈 Click to return to CHAPTER 3 to choose a different path.
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