Chapter 22
Erica felt a bounce in her step as she padded barefoot into the kitchen, the cool floor grounding her. She barely needed coffee this morning – the excitement buzzing inside her was enough. She reached for the kettle anyway, out of habit.
She couldn’t believe her luck.
She had found an Isobel.
Born in Rock Cove, in the outer village where farmland had once stretched wide before giving way to neat little housing estates. Gabriel had told her as much. It had to be the Isobel.
She’d nearly kissed him then and there.
The thought made her pause mid-step.
God, what was wrong with her? That wasn’t like her. She wasn’t impulsive. She wasn’t reckless. And yet since arriving in Rock Cove, she didn’t quite recognise herself.
Gabriel was helping. That was all. This was professional.
Right?
She reached for a mug, then hesitated.
Her blog. Her research. Was it just a passion project – or could it be more? Something that might actually support her once the payout from her old business dried up.
Her old business.
The thought dulled things slightly.
She hadn’t checked her emails in a while. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe not.
She sat at the kitchen table and pulled her laptop towards her, lifting the lid. Then a small weight landed squarely on the keyboard.
“Lucky,” she laughed.
The kitten’s fluffy paws danced across the keys, filling the screen with nonsense. He meowed, stretching up to bat at her, blue eyes bright and insistent.
She scooped him into her lap, scratching behind his ear. “You are a menace.”
At least he was a good one.
Taking a breath, she clicked into her inbox.
There it was.
Another email from the lawyers.
Her grip tightened on the laptop. Had she dealt with this already? Had she signed the buyout? The whole thing blurred together now – a mess she’d kept sealed away because opening it hurt too much.
Her fingers hovered over the trackpad.
Before she could stop herself, she opened a new tab.
Typed her name into the search bar.
At first it looked familiar – old articles, opinion pieces, half-forgotten clips.
Then she noticed something else.
Her name was trending.
Headlines. Thumbnails. Video clips.
Erica Hayes wasn’t just being mentioned.
She was everywhere.
Her brow creased as she clicked one of the top links.
Heartbroken Influencer Finally Opens Up About Mental Health – and the Pressure His Ex-Wife Put on Him.
What?
She scrolled.
Steven Hayes, co-founder of EverWell, has finally spoken about the toll of running a business with his ex-wife, Erica Hayes.
The couple – once celebrated for their fresh approach to wellness – built an empire of fitness wear, health drinks, and a wildly successful podcast before both their marriage and business collapsed.
And then she saw his face.
Even now, something twisted painfully in her chest. That perfect, camera-ready smile. The slightly rumpled hair, the soft, approachable eyes. The way he always knew how to look like the nice one.
She still felt it.
She kept reading.
“Things were going so well for us,” Steven said in an exclusive interview. “We never imagined the brand would grow the way it did. We just loved what we were doing – and of course, we loved each other.”
Her heart gave a traitorous flick.
Stop.
“But success changes things. Erica – she was addicted to more. More content, more projects, more growth. At first I was too, but eventually I just couldn’t keep up. We barely slept. Everything was optimised. Food. Work. Even our downtime.”
Erica stared at the words.
“I told her we needed to slow down. Our audience is kind – they would’ve understood.”
She let out a short laugh.
Kind? The same audience that had hounded her?
“Then I had my first … episode.”
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.
She walked down the hallway and sank onto the bed, pulling the covers over her head.
Maybe if she stayed there long enough, it would all go away.
Her body stilled, then a small weight landed on the bed beside her.
Lucky, persistent as ever.