Page 66 of The Clifftop Cottage

Her fingers went numb on the trackpad.

“It was terrifying. And when I told Erica I needed to step back, she wouldn’t let me. She said we had to push through or we could lose momentum. I don’t blame her. She thought she was doing what was best for us. But now I see that’s exactly what’s wrong with hustle culture.”

Her mouth felt dry.

He was rewriting it.

“We still keep in touch,” Steven added. “In the end, Erica burned out so badly she just … walked away. Everything we built together – gone overnight.”

Her hands curled into fists.

Walked away.

From the company she’d kept alive. From the podcast she’d edited until three in the morning. From the product lines she’d designed while he slept.

The article closed with a soft-focus photo of Steven smiling into the camera, announcing his return to the spotlight – alongside his new co-host: Jenna Armstrong.

Erica’s breath caught.

She typed the name into her inbox. Nothing.

Then her trash folder.

There it was. Jenna Armstrong. Weeks of emails. Cheerful, persistent.

Would love to collaborate!

Huge fan!

Let me know when you’re free!

Erica had ignored them all.

Now Jenna sat beside Steven in the article photo, laughing under studio lights like she belonged there.

A comment beneath it made her stomach lurch.

“So thrilled to be joining the team. We’re building something special together. Can’t wait to share it with you all.”

Erica clicked the video.

Steven and Jenna filled the screen, sitting close together, voices warm and easy. They shared a look. A laugh. The kind that didn’t belong to coworkers.

She slammed the laptop shut.

For a moment she couldn’t move.

Maybe she had been awful.

Maybe she really was too much.

Her phone buzzed.

Her sister’s name glowed on the screen.

Erica let it ring.

Slowly, she pushed back from the kitchen table. Lucky meowed after her, confused, but she barely heard him. The room felt too bright. Something hot and tight crawled up her throat.