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The cold breath hit the back of his neck a second before the screen went black.

Elias froze. He didn't want to look back. He didn't want to see if the door was actually open. His mouse hovered over the folder one last time.

A single folder appeared. Inside weren't thousands of photos, as the file size suggested, but just one. He opened it, expecting a blurry vacation snap or a corrupted header. Instead, he saw his own living room.

He didn’t remember clicking a link. He didn’t recognize the sender. But in the quiet of 3:00 AM, curiosity is a heavy weight. He clicked "Extract."

The notification sat on Elias’s desktop like a digital landmine: .

The photo was high-resolution, crystal clear. It showed his couch, his messy coffee table, and the half-eaten pizza box from dinner. His heart hammered against his ribs—the angle of the shot was from the corner of the ceiling, right behind him.

He turned back to the screen and hit the 'Refresh' button. The file name changed.

He opened it. The new photo showed the back of his head, hunched over the glowing monitor. But in this shot, the door to his office—the door he always locked—was swinging open.

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