Not with suspicion.

But with recognition.

The GPS led her down a narrow road lined with old oak trees.

When it told her she had arrived, she hesitated before looking up—

and froze.

The house wasn’t ruined.

It was beautiful.

A stone home surrounded by wild gardens and towering trees. Not abandoned—just hidden.

Like a secret.

Before she could process it, an elderly woman approached.

“You’re Peggy,” she said.

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