When my father passed away, I wasn’t expecting anything extravagant. He wasn’t a wealthy man, and I was his only child. I assumed that any inheritance would be modest, if anything. The lawyer’s call to read the will didn’t feel like a big event—it was just the formality that comes after someone’s passing. But when the lawyer started reading, I didn’t expect the words that followed.

“As per your father’s wishes, his house…” At first, I smiled, thinking it was a reference to the modest family home I had grown up in. But then the words hit me, and my smile faltered. “Wait, the house?!”

I was confused. My father never mentioned a house—at least, not one that he owned outside of our family home. We were a simple family, and the idea of him owning another property seemed strange, almost impossible. The lawyer continued, oblivious to my shock, “It’s not your current residence, but another property your father owned.”

I had never heard anything about another house from my dad, nor had I ever seen a mention of it in any of his belongings. My mind raced, and I found myself repeating the address in my head, but it still didn’t click. It was unfamiliar—like something out of a dream.

“But why didn’t he ever tell me about this place?” I thought, bewildered.

Despite the confusion and unease, I knew it was my duty to respect my father’s final wishes. So, I set out to find this mysterious house, determined to honor his request.

The journey was long, and as I neared the address, an unsettling feeling began to creep over me. When I finally turned onto the street, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The house was real, standing tall at the end of the road, but there was something off about it. It looked old, like it had been abandoned for years. But there was a strange energy around it—something that made it feel… lived in.

I parked the car and stepped out, my heart beating faster than usual. The house stood in eerie silence, its peeling paint and overgrown garden giving it an air of neglect. Yet, there were signs that it wasn’t as forgotten as it appeared. A light flickered in one of the upstairs windows, and from the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a shadow moving behind the curtains.

I cautiously walked toward the front door, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Could someone be living here? And if so, who? As I reached the porch, I paused, unsure of what I was walking into. But curiosity got the better of me, and I carefully peered through the window.

Just then, the door to the house suddenly burst open, and I jumped back in shock.

Standing in the doorway was a woman I didn’t recognize. She was tall and slender, her expression unreadable, her eyes fixed on me with a strange intensity. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air felt thick with tension, and I could feel my heart racing.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice low and steady, but with an edge of caution.

I stood there, frozen for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. “Uh, I’m… I’m the daughter of the late Thomas Mason. I’ve come to see the house he left me,” I explained, my voice shaking slightly as I spoke.

The woman’s expression didn’t change, but I noticed a flicker of something in her eyes. Was it surprise? Or was it something else—something I couldn’t quite place?

“This house?” she asked, glancing back toward the interior of the house, then back at me. “I think you’ve come to the wrong place.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. “No, this is the address that was given to me,” I said, my voice firmer now. “Are you… living here?”

The woman didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped back, almost as if she were debating whether or not to let me in. Her silence only deepened my confusion. If this was my father’s house, why was she here? And why hadn’t he mentioned her in anything I’d ever known about him?

Finally, she spoke again, her voice softer now. “I’m afraid you’ve got it all wrong. This house… it’s not what you think it is.”

My heart pounded in my chest. What did she mean? What could possibly be going on here?

“I suggest you come inside,” she said, stepping aside to let me pass. “There’s a lot you don’t know about this place. And your father… well, he had his reasons for keeping certain things hidden.”

With every step I took into that old house, I felt the weight of the unknown pressing in on me. It was clear that this wasn’t just any inheritance. There were secrets here—secrets my father had kept from me, and it seemed this woman knew more than she was letting on.

The moment I crossed the threshold, I realized that my journey into my father’s past had only just begun. What I would uncover inside this house would change everything I thought I knew about him—and about myself.