The woman had suspected her husband of infi:de:lity for some time. Too frequent “meetings,” too long trips “to the warehouse for tools,” too many unexplained odors. She endured, kept silent, watched—until she hired a private detective, who promised to check everything out in a couple of days. And then this morning, a message arrived: a short address, no explanation. “Go immediately. This is important. You must see everything for yourself.”
She drove there for almost an hour, further and further from the city, until the road turned into a narrow path. Her heart was beating so loudly it seemed she could hear it in the car.
The road stretched deeper and deeper into the forest, and with every kilometer, her confidence waned. She thought she’d see her mistress’s house there, or her husband’s car, parked near some country cottage.
But when she saw the old brick building in the forest, a strange feeling came over her: a mixture of anxiety and a strange, almost physical longing. The building resembled an abandoned barn or warehouse. No cars. No people.
The woman stepped out and approached, phone in hand, ready to call a detective or even the police at any moment. The doors to the building were slightly ajar, as if someone had hurried in before her arrival.
But what she saw had nothing in common with either her lover or the betrayal she had imagined. 😱😨
She walked closer and pushed one of the doors—it creaked, as if in warning. Inside, it smelled of damp and rust. The floor was littered with trash, but in the far corner, a strangely smooth wooden panel was visible. She stepped in, felt the edge with her hand… and the panel quietly slid aside.
Behind it was another, narrow room. And on a dirty mattress sat a woman. Alive. Emaciated. In chains.
The heroine froze, unable to believe her eyes. The woman raised her head slowly, as if every movement was painful.
“You… wife?” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have come. He said you’d never know anything.”
“Who?” her voice broke.
The kidnapped woman turned away.
“Your husband. He’s been keeping me here for seven months. He said he’s looking for… a replacement.”
And only then did the heroine notice the tray of food on the floor—the soup was still warm. Someone had been here just recently.
And suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her. The police had arrived, summoned by a detective.
