The train screeched to a halt, its whistle echoing across the quiet platform of Havenwood. Sophia Carter stepped onto the platform, her suitcase dragging behind her on its worn wheels. The salty tang of the ocean breeze brushed her face, mingling with the faint aroma of pine trees. This was nothing like the bustling city she had left behind, and for that, she was grateful.
The scandal that had ruined her journalism career was still fresh in her mind, like a wound refusing to heal. Havenwood was supposed to be her sanctuary, a place to start over and, hopefully, rediscover herself. Yet, as she gazed at the quaint cottages and narrow cobblestone streets, unease prickled at her skin.
Sophia adjusted her scarf against the chilly wind and followed the handwritten directions to her new rental. The house was an old Victorian perched on a cliff, its paint faded and shutters creaking in the breeze. It had character, she thought, though it looked like it could use some love.
The landlord had been curt on the phone, offering few details besides the address and a promise that the rent was "reasonable." Sophia approached the front door, her boots crunching against the gravel. Before she could knock, the door swung open.
"Ms. Carter, I presume?"
Sophia froze. The man standing before her was nothing like she had imagined. He was tall, with dark hair that curled just above his collar and eyes so piercingly blue they seemed to cut through the fog. He wore a simple black sweater and jeans, but his presence was anything but ordinary.
"Yes, I'm Sophia," she managed, extending her hand.
He ignored the gesture, stepping aside instead. "Ethan Blackwood. Welcome to Havenwood."
Sophia hesitated before stepping inside. The interior of the house was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to its weathered exterior. A fire crackled in the stone fireplace, and the scent of cedar lingered in the air.
"You live here?" she asked, glancing around.
Ethan leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a faint smirk. "No, I live in the guesthouse out back. This place is yours—for now."
His tone was cryptic, but Sophia decided not to press. "Thank you. It's... perfect."
He nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "Dinner's at six if you're hungry. Otherwise, I'll leave you to settle in."
Sophia blinked, surprised by the offer. "That's... kind of you, but I wouldn't want to impose."
Ethan's lips twitched into what might have been a smile. "Suit yourself."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving her alone in the quiet house.
As Sophia unpacked, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. The house creaked and groaned with the wind, and shadows danced across the walls. She told herself it was just her nerves; after all, she had been through a lot in the past few months.
But later that night, as she lay in bed, she thought she heard footsteps outside her window. When she peered out, there was nothing but the dark expanse of the ocean and the faint outline of the guesthouse in the distance.
Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that Havenwood was keeping secrets—and that Ethan Blackwood might be at the center of them.