My sister called me at midnight and whispered, “Turn off every light. Go to the attic. Don’t tell your husband.” I thought she was losing her mind — until I looked through the floorboards….

I slipped out of bed, grabbed my phone charger without thinking, and crept into the hallway. Behind me, Caleb shifted.

“Elise?” he murmured.

I froze.

“I’m getting water,” I said.

He didn’t respond.

I switched off the hallway light, then the kitchen, then the living room lamp Caleb always left on. My hands trembled so badly I nearly dropped my phone. Mara stayed on the line, silent except for her breathing.

At the attic stairs, she whispered, “Do not hang up.”

I climbed slowly, each wooden step creaking beneath my bare feet. The attic smelled of dust, insulation, and old holiday boxes. I shut the door behind me and slid the small latch into place.

“Lock it,” Mara said.

“I did.”

“Stay away from the window.”

Then the call dropped.

For one long, awful minute, nothing happened.

Then I heard Caleb’s voice downstairs.

No longer sleepy.

Calm.

“Lights are off,” he said.

Another man answered from inside my house.

“Then she knows.”