The cottage clung to the cliff edge like a memory refusing to let go. I stood in the doorway, keys cold in my palm—keys to a house my grandmother had left me, keys to a life I never asked for. The name Ashworth was now mine by inheritance, not by choice.Outside, the sea gnawed at the chalk cliffs with infinite patience. Inside, the air tasted of damp wool and forgotten things. I told myself I...
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