Page 41 of Leafpoint Lighthouse

“Can’t I have missed you?”

“No. You failed to notice I was even there. And I’m supposed to believe you’re sincere and being honest at this moment? Sorry, Cale, I don’t need your idea of missing me. If there’s nothing else, leave.”

Cale stared incredulously. “You’ve changed.”

“Yes. For the better. I’m nobody’s fool now, least of all yours. Go.” I headed for the door and opened it. The chill wind blew in, and I shivered.

Cale walked over and shut the door. Leaning on it, he smirked down at me. “Babe, I’m not leaving until we sort this out. I love you.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of me if I’d have tried. “Are you for real? You don’t love me. No, you’ve heard about the inheritance. Money, that’s something you seriously enjoy. If you’d not treated me so badly, this might have been ours. Now you’re realising what mistakes you made, and it’s too late,” I hissed.

“Don’t be like that, Lyra. I had a wake—”

“Stop! Just stop, Cale. No more lies. You are here to get money and persuade me to withdraw the lawsuit. Neither is going to happen,” I cried.

“If you refuse, they’ll fire me!” Cale shouted.

“Not my problem. That’s yours for treating me like trash. For thinking you would embarrass me and walk away with impunity. It’s clear you’re not a nice person—you are mean and horrible. That’s on you, not me. You behaved as though I didn’t matter. Well, guess what? Even drab, frumpy people have value!” I yelled as tears appeared.

“Lyra, just do as you’re—”

“Get out!” William boomed.

I wiped the moisture that welled up in my eyes angrily.

“Who’s that?” Cale demanded. “Have you got another bloke here? How dare you?” Cale exclaimed.

“No, I have a ghost,” I replied and sat down.

Cale gazed at me in disbelief and suspicion. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“William, be my guest,” I said wearily.

Instantly, a booming cackle ran around the kitchen. The mug tree jiggled of its own accord, and then a chair scraped across the tiles. The microwave pinged on, and the kettle began to boil.

“Stop this, Lyra, it’s not funny!” Cale ordered.

“Begone!” William thundered.

“Seems you pissed him off!” I murmured.

William was ramping up, but I could sense his emotion. He was enjoying this.

Cale’s eyes widened as the chair began rocking back and forth on two legs, before clattering to the floor.

“William, please do not break anything,” I chided.

“How are you doing this?” Cale demanded, his face paling slightly.

“Not me, William, the ghost,” I repeated and sat down.

“Don’t…” Cale began and cut off. Slowly, William formed in front of him. William remained transparent, but grinned wickedly at Cale. Cale blinked and gazed up at the ceiling and the tops of the cupboards. What on earth was he doing?

“There’s no projector,” Cale whispered.

“No. He’s real, and my ghost,” I said possessively.

William cackled, and his jaw began stretching. Amused, I watched as it kept going, down to his chest and further. Cale looked completely panicked and fled for the exit. He screeched and leapt back as multiple hands appeared from the wood and grabbed at him.