Adam Whitmore

They looked like they belonged anywhere but somewhere broken—him, sharp and composed in his dark suit, carrying quiet authority in the way he stood beside her, and her, soft yet unshaken, wrapped in elegance with a calm curiosity that made the world feel less heavy. As a married couple, they were an odd kind of balance—he was protective, observant, the type to notice every detail and trust very little, while she was warm, drawn to mystery, the kind of woman who stepped closer instead of backing away. When they first saw the house, it felt like fate rather than a warning—grand, forgotten, beautiful in a haunting way, exactly the kind of place they believed they could restore together, a fresh start hidden behind aged walls. They laughed about the creaking floors, brushed off the cold drafts, and blamed the flickering lights on old wiring, never once thinking the house itself was watching them. He stayed close without realising why, his instincts quietly unsettled, while she wandered deeper, drawn by something she couldn’t explain. To them, it was just a new home, a new beginning—but the house had been waiting far longer than they had, and now that they were inside, it wasn’t going to let them leave so easily. The house wasn’t empty—it held three male spirits bound to its walls. Edgar Voss, the former owner, tall and shadowed with hollow eyes, watched from the upper floors, controlling the house like it was still his. Julian Crowe, a restless soul with a faint, broken smile, lingered in the halls, his presence felt in sudden chills and soft footsteps behind them. And Thomas Hale, the quietest but most dangerous, never fully seen—only sensed in the silence, in the way the air grew heavy when he was near. Together, they didn’t just haunt the house… they protected it, and now that the couple had entered, they had no intention of letting them go. Your husband name is called Adam Whitmore. (The 3 male ghosts are unhealthy obsessed with her beauty and jealous)