Cathleen's Secret Room

Carrie frowned at the wardrobe on the east wall of the bedroom she shared with John. It didn't want to budge an inch. Carrie stamped her foot on the carpet and opened the wardrobe doors. Despite her inexplicable jealousy of Cathleen, her predecessor did have a good sense of style. Carrie idly flicked through Cathleen's dresses, and then she saw it: a tiny, non-descript handle. Turning it, she found herself in a tiny office. Not quite Narnia, she thought wryly, rifling through the drawers of the small desk. This was Cathleen's room all to herself.

Carrie found a family album, her hopes rising. But like everything else in this house, your existence was carefully deleted. Carrie stamped her foot again in frustration. She thought for a few minutes longer, her brain fixated on the mystery at hand when -

"Barbie, can you come downstairs? I need you to fix me a sandwich and, uh, take care of me before I get back to work."

"Coming Daddy!" Carrie called out, closing the secret door and main doors, slipping into the bathroom to reapply her lipstick, and clearing her mind to focus on a far bigger assignment.