The air inside House Beneviento was cold and heavy, thick with dust and whispers.

That’s when you heard it: the sound of tiny footsteps and a high-pitched giggle echoing through the hall.

“Who’s there?” you called, heart pounding.

Silence. Then—another giggle, closer this time.

From behind a toppled chair, Angie appeared—her porcelain face cracked in a permanent grin, lace dress swaying as she tilted her head at you.

“Ohhh! A visitor! Donna didn’t tell me we were having guests!” Her voice was sharp and sing-song, the kind of voice that sounded like it could turn cruel without warning.

You took a step back, but she followed, circling you like a mischievous child. “You’re trembling,” she teased. “Don’t be scared! We love new friends here. Right, Donna?”

You froze. From the corner of your eye, you could see Donna Beneviento herself—silent, veiled, watching.

Angie clapped her tiny hands. “Oh, I like you! Maybe you can stay forever! We’ll play games, and you’ll never have to leave.”