chapter 1
When Ethan walked through his front door after a twelve-hour shift, he expected to find his golden retriever, Max, wagging his tail like always.
Instead, he froze.
The living room looked like a disaster zone.
White stuffing floated through the air like snow. The expensive leather recliner his late father had treasured was ripped wide open. Foam covered the carpet. Wooden splinters littered the floor.
And right in the middle of the mess sat Max.
The dog looked up with guilty eyes, his tail barely moving.
"What have you done?" Ethan whispered.
That chair had been the last thing his father ever bought before cancer took him. Ethan had refused to replace it, no matter how old or worn it became. It wasn't just furniture—it was a memory.
His anger exploded.
He grabbed his phone, ready to call the furniture company for a repair estimate. But before dialing, something caught his attention.
Max wasn't acting proud.
He wasn't playing.
He kept pawing at the ripped cushion, whining softly as if he desperately wanted Ethan to look inside.
"What is it?" Ethan muttered.
The dog barked once.
Then twice.
Slowly, Ethan knelt beside the destroyed chair and pushed away the mountain of stuffing.
His fingers hit something hard.
Not wood.
Not springs.
A small rusted metal box.
His heart skipped.
He had owned that chair for nearly fifteen years.
He had moved it through three apartments and one house.
How could there be a hidden box inside?
The lock had already broken from Max's frantic chewing.
With trembling hands, Ethan lifted the lid.
Inside was an old envelope.
A silver key.
And a folded photograph.
The picture showed his father standing beside a stranger outside an abandoned farmhouse. On the back, written in faded ink, were only six chilling words:
"If I disappear... trust no one."
Ethan stared at the handwriting.
It was unmistakably his father's.
Suddenly, memories he had buried for years rushed back.
His father hadn't just died.
Weeks before his death, he constantly looked over his shoulder.
He received mysterious phone calls.
He refused to explain where he disappeared every Friday night.
Everyone blamed the stress of his illness.
But what if they were wrong?
Before Ethan could think another thought, his phone rang.
An unknown number.
He answered.
Silence.
Then an elderly man's trembling voice whispered,
"They finally found the chair... Didn't they?"
The call disconnected.
Ethan slowly looked at Max.
The dog wasn't staring at him anymore.
He was staring toward the front window.
Someone...
Was standing outside.
May you like
Watching the house.
To Be Continued...
