When Michael returned home early from a business trip, he expected a warm family reunion, not an empty house and eerie silence.
His wife was missing, only to be found locked in the cellar, with a shocking story that pointed to a betrayal he never saw coming. It was supposed to be a regular business trip, but I managed to wrap things up early.
I couldn’t wait to get home to my wife and kids. I imagined the look on their faces when they saw me walk through the door, two days ahead of schedule. The thought made me smile as I drove up our quiet street.
I’m 32, and my wife, Emma, is 27. We’ve been married for seven years, and we have two kids—Liam, who’s 8, and Sophie, who just turned 5. Emma stays home with them, handling the endless list of chores and making sure the house runs smoothly.
I work long hours, so these surprise homecomings are my way of showing them I’m still around, still present in our family life. I pulled into the driveway, noticing how still the house was. Strange, since it was a Saturday, and the kids should have been playing outside or watching TV.
I grabbed my bag, eager to see them, and walked to the front door. “Emma? Liam?
Sophie?” I called out as I stepped inside, expecting their excited voices to greet me. But there was nothing—just silence. I began searching the house.
“Emma?” I called again, louder this time, checking every room. The kids’ rooms were empty, their beds neatly made. The bathroom, the living room—nothing.
My heart started to race. Where were they? As I stepped into the garage, I heard it.
A faint noise, like someone banging on a door. I froze, listening hard. The sound was coming from the cellar.
“Help!” It was Emma’s voice, muffled but desperate. I bolted toward the cellar door, my heart pounding. “Emma!
I’m here! Hold on!” I shouted, fumbling with the lock. The door creaked open, and I saw her at the bottom of the stairs, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear.
“Oh my God, Emma! What happened? Where are the kids?” I blurted out, rushing down the stairs to her.
Emma’s hands shook as she tried to catch her breath. “It’s—it’s your mother,” she stammered, her voice trembling. “My mother?
What are you talking about?” My mind was spinning. This didn’t make any sense. “She came over… with the kids.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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