Chapter 149

Today marked Vivian Lockhart's official departure from Sunrise Heights.

Though primarily to avoid her ex-husband Nathaniel Blackwood, she'd fantasized about this moment for four years.

Her new home would be Lockhart Manor.

After the Lockhart family's bankruptcy four years ago, their three-story estate had been seized and auctioned.

But rumors of tragic deaths within its walls kept buyers away, despite the bargain price.

When it reappeared at auction last week, Vivian didn't hesitate. She secured it for 1.5 billion.

Only Sophia Osborne and Liam Osborne knew about her purchase. Both insisted on throwing a housewarming party, with Sophia promising to bring a surprise guest.

Vivian agreed immediately. The abandoned manor needed life breathed back into its hollow halls.

Packing took little time—she'd never truly settled into Nathaniel's space.

One final glance at the penthouse door brought a bitter smile.

"Probably discussing wedding plans with Cassandra right now," she mused.

Her rushed exit seemed almost silly in hindsight. Nathaniel clearly couldn't care less.

A sharp inhale. A firm shake of her head. The past would stay buried.

After today, their only connection might be as business rivals. Nothing more.

The car wound through Newport City's glittering center before reaching the secluded western outskirts.

Locals said the elite flourished in the west, the ambitious in the south, the struggling in the north, and danger lurked in the east.

The west's tree-lined streets hid generational wealth—old money families, political dynasties, descendants of royalty. New money rarely gained entry.

Vivian's grandfather had been a decorated general. Her grandmother's origins remained mysterious, though whispers tied her to European nobility.

At their peak, the Lockharts rivaled the Elite Eight's wealth. They chose the west deliberately.

Then came the crash.

Now weeds choked the once-manicured grounds. Dust blanketed every surface. Cobwebs draped like ghostly curtains.

The derelict sight twisted Vivian's heart, but she squared her shoulders. This house would shine again.

Everything was proceeding smoothly until the cleaning service canceled last minute.

Panic fluttered in her chest.

The exterior appeared structurally sound, but the interior likely needed extensive work.

Her original housekeeper refused the job—too much for one person.

Five more services declined upon hearing the address, each inventing increasingly ridiculous excuses.

"That place is cursed! The Lockhart ghosts wail all night!"

After the sixth rejection, Vivian frowned. Were her parents truly trapped here?

The thought didn't frighten her.

She'd give anything to see them again.

The car halted before the wrought-iron gates. Vivian stepped out immediately.

The estate felt simultaneously familiar and foreign.

Rust devoured the fencing. Weeds stood waist-high where roses once bloomed.

Tears streaked down Vivian's face.

"Grandfather. Mother. Father. I'm home," she whispered.

As she reached for the gate, movement caught her eye. Something... unexpected.