Page 76 of Neighbor from Hell
I stare at her in amazement. This I did not expect.
“There’s a way to get back at him,” she says, her eyes gleaming. “Don’t sell the land to him. Hurt him instead.”
I freeze. “What do you mean?”
She steps closer, her breath hot, her words quick and urgent. “Big city developers might want your land. They’ve bought the adjacent plots, and I’m sure they’d pay more than Hugh, way more. He’s trying to lowball you, twist your arm, demoralize you, but these people don’t play dirty games. The best thing for you to do is to try and sell to them, and that way you’ll stick it to him. This is what you should do to get the best price for yourself. Trust me, after all his scheming and cunning, he’ll feel the burn and the pain like nothing else.”
Her smile is triumphant, but it chills me, because I’ve always suspected her, her motives, her sudden friendship, and now this—big city developers, money, and revenge. It all feels too convenient and too calculated.
I pull my arm free, my voice steady despite the suspicion swirling in my gut. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”
She nods, her eyes narrowing, her voice pressing. “I understand, but don’t wait too long. You have to strike while the iron is hot. They might move on. I can talk them into paying more, into covering your losses, and I’m pretty sure they’ll do it because they’re kind.”
I almost scoff at how ridiculous her words sound. Kind? As if big city developers are ever ‘kind’. The only thing I really know about big business is they play dirty. Very dirty. She truly must think me a complete moron. Irritated, I turn away so that I can ask the girl behind the counter for the tarts, pay, and be on my way. Behind me, the bell rings to signify she has left the premises, and I feel a sense of relief.
Outside, the air is colder and the sun is slowly setting, but I barely notice the splendor of it. My mind is racing. How does Cecilia have pull with developers? Why is she so invested? Herwords ‘adjacent plots’ and ‘more money’ gnaw at me. If others want the land, if they’ve bought nearby, then maybe Hugh isn’t the only one with a motive. What if, as he says, he had nothing to do with starting the fire?
The thought hits me, sharp, impossible, because I’ve been so sure, so angry, but now doubt creeps in, a crack in my certainty. I think of his face that day in the manor when I accused him… The hurt in his eyes. He looked genuinely shocked and destroyed, the way his voice broke when he asked, “Why would I do that?” Now, I wonder if I misread him, if my heart, opening to him despite my walls, saw something real, yet I was too scared to trust.
I fell in love with him, and that is why his betrayal—if it’s real—cut so deep and hurt so much, I became blind and unreasonable. I opened my heart, let him in, and now I’m broken, not just because of the fire, but by the loss of him.
But what if I was wrong?
Suddenly, I see everything in a new light.
What if Cecilia was the one playing me all along, and is now using my pain to hurt him, to get the land for another hidden player? From what I know of Hugh so far, I know him to be direct and fearless. He wouldn’t hide behind a mask; most definitely wouldn’t pretend shock if he’d actually done it. He has no reason to lie, no reason to be afraid of me. And why would he spend all that money renovating my cottage? He could have just burned it down before the renovation. It would have been more believable. Old wiring…
That day in his manor when I accused him, that was real pain in his face, but part of me still remains distraught, confused, because I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know who to trust, don’t know if I can face the question: Who really started the fire?
My phone buzzes, jarring me, and I’m so lost in my thoughts, the interruption annoys me. Still, I pull it out to answer,knowing that it can only be Annabel. Only she and Sandy have this number. I am right it’s Annabel. I quickly respond, wondering if she’s back home already.
“Hey, I just got the bread from the bakery and I’m headed back now. Are you home yet?”
“No, not yet,” she says in a strange whispery voice. “Um… someone’s looking for you, Lauren.”
My heart begins to race, my breath catching, because I think it’s Hugh. Who else would want to meet me?
“It’s Her Ladyship, the Duke’s mother,” Annabel continues. “She’s at the grocery store right now, and says that she’d love to have tea with you.”
Stunned, I stop walking. I must have heard wrong. “What?” My mind is reeling. Hugh’s mother? He spoke of her, of course, but why would she want to see me? My pulse hammers, confusion swirling, but no matter how hurt I am, how furious I am with Hugh, I can’t be rude to her.
“Okay,” I say, my voice small, my hand tightening around the phone. “Give her my number, Annabel. I’ll wait for her call.”
“Alright,” she says.
I hang up and stand there, my heart torn between doubt, love, and fear, waiting for a call that might change everything, or absolutely nothing at all. Maybe she wants to negotiate a price for the land. For her son.
Chapter
Fifty-Two
LAUREN
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0cAWgTPiwM
-I can see clearly now the rain has gone-
A little while later, I’m seated in Susan’s Tea Room, a quaint little nook tucked into the village square. Its whitewashed walls adorned with climbing ivy, their leaves brushing the leaded windows that let in soft, dappled light. The place is so English, so small and cute, with mismatched China teacups on lace doilies, oak tables polished to a warm glow, and a chalkboard menu boasting of homemade carrot cake and scones served hot with strawberry jam and clotted cream.
