Two years after my wife passed away, I remarried, hoping to bring warmth back into our quiet home. Amelia was gentle, kind, and patient — the light I never thought I’d see again. But one night, my five-year-old daughter, Sophie, whispered something that made my heart stop.
“Daddy… new mom is different when you’re gone.”
At first, I thought it was just a child’s imagination — grief mixed with confusion. But Sophie’s trembling voice told another story. She spoke of strange noises from the attic and rules that made her scared.
I tried to shake it off. Amelia adored Sophie — at least, that’s what I saw. But when I returned from a week-long work trip, Sophie clung to me, eyes wide with fear. “She locks herself in the attic,” she said. “And she’s mean.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep. When Amelia quietly slipped out of bed and crept upstairs, I followed her. My heart pounded as I watched her open the attic door and step inside.
Moments later, I pushed the door open — and froze.
Continue reading on next page…