You move into a historic house after inheriting it from a grandmother you barely knew. At night, the walls creak with footsteps. Doors open. Music plays. Your jewelry gets moved. Then one night, you find a note on your pillow: ‘You looked beautiful in the red dress.’ Someone is living inside the walls of your house. Someone who has been watching you. Instead of fear, what grows between you is something darker: curiosity, dependence, and the terrifying comfort of being known too well.