Chapter 1: The Woman Across the Hall
The scary-looking goth woman across the hall never spoke to anyone—then one night she knocked on my door holding my two-year-old daughter and said, "Your husband doesn't know I saw him."
I'm 32, my husband Oliver is 35, and we'd lived across from Charlotte for almost a year.
She was 29, always dressed in black, with heavy eyeliner, silver piercings, and tattoos covering both arms.
She never joined hallway conversations, never smiled at neighbors, and usually slipped into her apartment without saying a word.
Honestly, she intimidated me.
Oliver disliked her even more.
"She gives me the creeps," he once said.
Then one Friday night, our daughter Daisy refused to settle down.
Around nine, Oliver grabbed his keys.
"I'll take her for a short drive.
She'll fall asleep in five minutes."
Nothing about it seemed strange.
He'd done it before.
I kissed Daisy goodnight, watched him carry her toward the elevator, and stepped back inside.
Almost an hour passed.
Then someone pounded on my door.
I opened it—
and froze.
Charlotte was standing there.
Holding Daisy.
My daughter was awake, clutching Charlotte's black jacket with both hands.
"Where's Oliver?" I asked immediately.
Charlotte stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
"Your husband doesn't know I saw him."
"Saw him doing what?"
She glanced down at Daisy, then back at me.
Her next words made my stomach drop.
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What did Charlotte see Oliver doing — and why did she have Daisy?
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