I turned to Liam, heart pounding. He looked pale.
“You knew something about this, didn’t you?” I asked.
I was done with secrets. That afternoon, I confronted Margaret directly.
She was in the living room, sipping tea, the TV playing softly.
“I know you’ve been knocking on our door every night,” I said. “We saw the video. I just want to understand — why?”
She set her cup down carefully. Her eyes met mine — sharp, unreadable.
“What do you think I’m doing?” she said quietly, her low voice sending chills down my spine.
Then she stood and walked away.
That night, I checked the rest of the footage. My hands trembled as I pressed play.
After knocking, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small silver key. She held it to the lock — not turning it, just holding it there for a few seconds — and then walked away.
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