Page 29 of The Clifftop Cottage

Leah’s face softened. “Look, I know things didn’t work out with⁠—”

“Don’t say his name.” Erica cut in, she heard the edge in her own voice.

Leah hesitated, then continued more carefully. “I just mean … you don’t have to hide away. You’re still young, still attractive. You still have so much ahead of you.”

“Oh, sure. Marriage? Kids? A white picket fence?” Erica scoffed. “That’s not everything in life, Leah. No offence.”

Maisie, oblivious, yanked open the wardrobe and gasped. “Wow! Auntie Erica, you have so many clothes!”

Erica’s stomach twisted as she caught sight of the neatly folded designer pieces she’d shipped from storage. Ghosts of a different life, one where every outfit was curated and every item tagged for strangers to buy.

Leah lifted a brow, sensing the shift. “You know I didn’t mean a husband and kids.” She sighed. “This isn’t the nineteenth century. Unmarried women aren’t suspicious outcasts.”

“Amen to that.” Erica let out a dry laugh. “Though I’m fairly certain I’ve been disowned by society.”

Leah’s smile was indulgent. “Oh, Eri. You haven’t been disowned.”

Erica swallowed. “Millions of people, Leah. They think they hate me.”

Leah waved a hand. “No one hates you.”

“You didn’t see what they wrote. What I said. What they still say about me.”

She hadn’t told Leah about the threats, the messages, the way every platform she’d once lived on had turned poisonous. Some things were too exhausting to explain.

Before Leah could reply, Maisie reappeared, wobbling under one of Erica’s hats.

“Mum! Look at me!”

“Maisie, take Auntie Erica’s hat off.” Leah sighed, rescuing it.

Maisie was already distracted again, darting next to the wardrobe. “Mum! There’s a secret door!”

“What?” Leah frowned.

Erica crouched beside her. Sure enough, Maisie was tugging at a small wooden panel built into the wall, almost invisible against the panelling.

“That’s not a door,” Erica said slowly. “It’s just … a little cubby.”

Maisie beamed. “That’s where witches keep their potions!”

Leah rolled her eyes. “Not everything is about witches.”

But Erica felt a faint prickle she couldn’t quite explain. Gabriel’s odd keychain, the cottage’s quietness … it all added up to something she couldn’t quite name.

Maisie managed to pry open a small tin box hidden inside.

“Careful!” Leah reached for her.

Erica leaned in, heart ticking a little faster than it should. For a moment it felt as though something was about to be revealed.

Maisie peered inside, then frowned. “It’s empty.”

She tipped it upside down to prove it.

Leah let out a breath. “Well, that’s disappointing. Though I suppose finding a secret box at all is something.”

“Maybe whoever renovated the place found whatever was inside,” Erica said. “It looks old – eighteenth century, maybe?”