The next morning, Adanna couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been inside the house.
She barely slept. Every creak in the walls felt too sharp, every shadow too still. Her thoughts raced back to the whisper, the footsteps — the sense that she was not alone.
By 7 a.m., she stood in Malcolm's closet, where he had hidden a wall-mounted security monitor. Few people knew he had installed indoor surveillance. Fewer still knew where he kept it.
She entered the code he once made her memorize.
It still worked.
Footage from the hallway, guest bedroom, and study began to play. She scrolled through the night's timeline, fast-forwarding until a frame made her stomach drop.
1:23 a.m.
A figure stood in the hallway.
Male. Tall. Dressed in black. His face turned just enough away from the camera to stay hidden. In his hand — something metallic.
She pressed pause. Her heart pounded. She skipped forward.
The next frame: empty hallway. The man was gone.
Rewind. Pause. Play. Still no face. No clear movement. Just the eerie knowledge that someone had been watching her from inside the house.
Adanna reached for her phone… and stopped.
There was no forced entry. No damage. No proof.
If she called the police, what would she even say?
They would say stress. Grief. Hallucination.
But Adanna knew better.
Someone had been there.
And whoever he was… he knew where the cameras were.