Chilling Call: ‘Check Your Basement—What I Found Exposed My Husband’s Dark Secrets’

One day, while doing laundry, Candace receives an enigmatic call instructing her to look down her basement. Candace nearly ignores it because she believes she’s being set up, but then something inside of her tells her that she should check to see if anything is there. Following instructions to the letter, she examines the basement’s brick wall and discovers herself in a deadly crimson room.

As I was folding laundry, there was a call. The number was not known to me. Normally, I wouldn’t have answered, but I answered out of instinct.

“How are you?” I asked.

A sharp, urgent voice cut through the line, tense with urgency.

“You don’t know me, Candace,” the woman said, her tone cold but serious. “But I strongly suggest you take a good look at your basement. There’s a lot about your husband you need to uncover. If you press the fifth brick to the right of the wooden cabinet, a hidden door will open.”

She hung up before I could ask her name. With my heart pounding in my chest, I stood there clutching an odd-colored sock. I looked around our comfortable new house. Nick, my spouse, had taken care of all the construction, urging me to keep my hands off.

“It will come as a surprise,” he smiled.

And since Nick worked in design and building, I had total faith in him, so that was okay with me. As for being a surprise when the improvements were finished, Nick was not wrong. It was warm and inviting, with the perfect balance of contemporary design elements and rustic charm to appeal to Nick’s creative side.

I adored the way our house came out.

However, when I turned to face the cellar door, I started to feel a nagging fear.

“Candace, you’re just being paranoid,” I tried to reassure myself. “It’s probably just some dumb prank—people are ridiculous these days.”

But something about the woman’s voice stayed with me. There was a certain edge, a gravity that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Well,” I muttered to myself, “might as well check it out and see if there’s anything to it.”

I put away the laundry and made my way down to the basement.

We hadn’t really done much with the basement yet, but it was quiet and cool. I had intended Nick to convert it into our shared office.

“Honey, it’s going to get better,” I said. “During the day, it is isolated from everyone and everything. And we’ll be able to shut out the cacophony once we have children.”

Nick said, “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” “Let’s just finish doing the pool area, and then we can focus on this.”

So far, the only things we had left in the basement were a couch, a bookshelf, and the wooden cabinet the woman mentioned. As I descended the stairs, I carefully counted five bricks to the right, just like she had said, and pressed the one she directed me to.

A faint click echoed through the room, and I nearly lost my balance.

Behind me, a section of the wall began to slide open, revealing an entrance. My breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest.

“What the actual heck is this?” I let out a cry.

I was completely unaware that this existed. Why hadn’t Nick brought it up?

With my fingers reaching for a light switch, I walked inside. When I turned on the switch after finding it, I was astounded by what I saw.

I stood in a completely equipped room.

However, that wasn’t even its greatest feature.

The space was a bedroom, completely furnished in crimson hues. A king-sized bed with sheets of deep crimson silk. velvety red carpet. Velvet curtains with the identical deep color. a wall-mounted flat-screen TV. Not to mention a mini-fridge filled with champagne and nibbles.

“Okay, what the hell?” I questioned myself.

My gaze shifted to a dresser in the corner, and I started to feel sick to my stomach.

What on earth possibly be in this dresser that wouldn’t implicate someone?

I opened the dresser drawers with trembling hands and saw that they were full of women’s underwear. It was all smooth satin and dainty lace, in tones of black and crimson.

I raised a pair with shaky hands. I owned none of this.

“Whom? How come? Why not?” I called out to the room.

If my spouse wasn’t up to any foolishness, then why in the world would he put up a secret bedroom down here? Why would he require so many costly items? And the concealment?

Nick is unfaithful.

I never doubted anything Nick had done, he’d been so meticulous about this place, so private about his tiny initiatives. However, it all became clear to me why he was always pushing me to do all those business trips. There were also a lot of late hours and business travels involved in being a culinary writer.

“Oh my god,” I thought to myself while holding my stomach.

I was feeling ill. I dropped onto the bed’s edge, feeling the cool, silky linen beneath my fingers. To what extent had he brought someone here before? He was lying to me, right under my nose, as I worked to create our future.

I was aware that I required evidence. I had to get him while he was at it.

My husband had a way with words, so I knew confronting him without evidence would be pointless. He’d probably come up with some lie, saying the room had always been there, left behind by the house’s former owners.

I gave him a call.

“Hi, my love,” I murmured. “A motel just gave me a call at the last minute. I had to be there to report about the new menu that they are introducing tonight. I’m packing right now and will be leaving in a few hours.”

A pause occurred.

Nick responded, “That seems a little hurried, Candace.” “But I suppose you have to leave when work calls. When you return, I’ll see you. “Be careful!”

His voice carried nearly an undertone of relief. He believed that he would have the house to himself and that he was in the clear.

Perfect.

In case Nick saw that my toiletries were still in the bathroom, I wrapped them in a bag and stashed them in my closet. After that, I crept into the basement, prepared to do nothing except sit in the red room of death as he headed back home.

As I sat there, I pondered what kind of woman would voluntarily visit such a location. I pondered whether his women were aware of his marriage. I was curious to know their opinions of me.

I heard the front door open and close that evening at around six o’clock. There were laughs and footsteps. And before long, as they descended to the basement, the voices grew louder.

There were only two red gowns in the closet, so I hurriedly hid there with the door slightly open to let light in.

With giggles reminiscent of teens prowling around, they slipped into the room. I boiled at the sound of them.

“Oh, Nick,” said the female. “I adore visiting this location. It causes me to lose all sense of reality.”

With a laugh, Nick encircled her and planted a kiss on her neck.

I didn’t recognize the woman until Nick showed her to the bed. Rachel, Nick’s boss’s wife! She was someone I had met a few times previously at work parties; she always appeared so sweet and completely devoted to her husband.

I mumbled to myself, “Well, now she’s obsessed with your husband.”

I had to leap out and stop the cheating since things were getting heated on the other side of the closet door.

I said, “Surprise!”

Nick turned to face me as Rachel stepped away from him, his face becoming paler.

“I found your playroom, Nick,” I remarked casually. “It’s great.”

Nick’s mouth moved back and forth, stuttering sounds instead of words. With mascara streaming down her face, Rachel broke down in tears. It was pitiful.

With a “I can explain, darling,” he spoke.

“Nope, let’s stop talking,” I replied. “You’ve accomplished far enough. Divorce is what I want. And I’ll take all you own off of you. I’m taking everything else, but you can keep this filthy place.”

I hurriedly typed an email as I passed past them and up the stairs.

Nick’s employer needs to be aware of the truth regarding both his wife and his staff.

Nick, of course, lost his job. Now that I’ve moved on, I took Nick for everything he owned, just as I had promised. aside from the home.

The last I heard, he had to sell it to make ends meet while renting a modest flat. The identity of the woman who called me is something I never quite managed to find out.