As Matteo slowly dropped to one knee to examine the area where Maya was pressing her hands, the rustle of silk fabric echoed from the hallway. Elena, Matteo’s wife, stepped into the bright living room, her posture rigid and her face flushed with visible anxiety. Matteo, she's imagining things, Elena said quickly, her voice sharp and strained as she hurried toward them. She's just playing a silly game, now please get up and leave the floor alone! But Matteo wasn't convinced by his wife's sudden panic. The low, tense pulse in the room grew louder as Matteo leaned closer to the polished oak surface. He noticed a faint, irregular gap between two master-crafted floorboards near the center rug—a gap that certainly hadn't been there when the house was built. Ignoring Elena’s desperate protests, Matteo placed his fingertips onto the edge of the wood, applying pressure until a subtle creak echoed through the silent room.