Rose managed a polite goodbye, thanked the couple for their time, and stepped out of their house with a wave. But the moment she turned the corner, her hands began to tremble—not just from fear, but from something hotter, more consuming. Anger. Haunted. She’d been so excited to buy this house, and no one had thought to mention it was haunted.
The urge to call the realtor surged through her fingers like electricity. She had half a mind to let her fury spill over the phone—every sleepless night, every unexplained creak, every shaken breath. But she stopped herself. Not yet. There would be a time for confrontation. Right now, she needed something more concrete than her baseless accusations. She needed proof.