Chapter 150

Vivian spotted the broken iron fence immediately. A patch of tall grass lay trampled, fresh footprints imprinted in the damp earth.

Someone had been here before her.

The disturbing part? The tracks led inside but never came back out.

That meant whoever entered was still in there.

Behind her, the movers dropped her luggage with a thud. The man wiped his brow, eyes darting nervously toward the house.

"Miss Lockhart, your things are here. I...I won't be going in. Take my advice—leave this place while you still can."

Vivian turned, studying his pale face. "What's wrong with this house? Everyone acts like it's cursed."

The man swallowed hard, stealing a terrified glance at the darkened windows. "You haven't heard? The owners...they died here. Their spirits never left. This place is haunted!"

"I know about the tragedy, but ghosts? That's just superstition."

"No!" He shook violently. "I've seen her myself! Delivering packages last winter—the lady in white weeping at the upstairs window. If I wasn't desperate for money..."

Before finishing, he bolted to his truck. "Good luck! Don't you dare give me a bad review!"

Vivian barely registered his panic. Truthfully? She hoped to encounter the famous ghost.

Right now, she had a more pressing mystery—who was hiding in her childhood home?

She pulled a baseball bat from her bag, pushed through the creaking gate.

Memories assaulted her instantly. The overgrown garden where sunflowers once towered. The rusted swing her father built—still standing after all these years.

Tears pricked her eyes as she stepped onto the porch.

Then—BOOM!

Rainbow confetti exploded around her.

"Surprise!"

Vivian barely stopped herself from swinging the bat. Nathan stood grinning with a sunflower bouquet while Sophia emerged holding a cake.

"Congratulations on ditching that bastard Ethan!" Sophia beamed. "Your life starts today!"

Nathan looked uncharacteristically solemn as he offered the flowers. The intensity in his gaze might've been mistaken for a proposal.

Sunflowers—her favorite. Golden blooms that chased sunlight, just like she chased life.

Not to be outdone, Sophia thrust the cake forward. "Homemade! It'll cleanse all that bad juju away!"

Vivian's vision blurred with tears.

Then she noticed—no dust. No cobwebs. The house gleamed, smelling of lemon polish and fresh linens.

"You cleaned too? I'm making dinner to thank—"

"Wrong!" Sophia giggled. "Trust me, neither of us would scrub floors. Especially not Mr. Lazy here."

"Then who?"

Sophia smirked toward the staircase. "Come out already!"