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CHAPTER 24

C hapter 24

The evening brought an early darkness that blanketed London by half past four, streetlights casting long shadows across the damp pavements where fallen leaves clung like wet paper. Tessa moved through The Red Lion, closing up after another quiet Tuesday, her movements more distracted than usual.

November had settled over the city with its characteristic chill, keeping all but the most loyal customers home. Tonight, she welcomed the solitude—mainly because she’d spent the entire day jumping every time the door chimed, half-hoping and half-dreading that Sebastian might appear.

Pathetic, Tessa. Absolutely pathetic.

The past week had left her thoughts in complete disarray—Sebastian’s discovery of Rebecca Williams, their kiss on her doorstep, the undeniable change between them that felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. She was officially, completely, hopelessly smitten with a man whose entire purpose in her life was to destroy everything she cared about.

Brilliant strategy, Tessa. Fall for your nemesis. What could possibly go wrong?

“We found Rebecca,” she announced to the empty room, feeling only slightly ridiculous. “She remembered you, Will. She wrote about you.”

The temperature plummeted without warning, her breath suddenly visible in small puffs.

“Right,” she muttered, abandoning the glasses. “Message received. We’re focusing on ghost business now.”

A candle on the corner table sparked to life with supernatural drama. Its flame remained eerily still despite the drafts that typically wandered through the old building.

Outside, fog had deepened with unusual intensity, obscuring passersby into mere silhouettes. Wisps seemed to seep beneath the door, spreading across the floor like questing fingers.

“I know you’re waiting,” Tessa whispered. “But I don’t understand what you need. Are you looking for more than just being remembered?”

The candle flickered once, then extinguished, leaving only the diffused glow of streetlights filtering through the fog. In that dim illumination, she felt a presence—cool air brushing against her skin, raising goosebumps.

“We found her book,” she said louder. “She never forgot you. She built a new life, yes, but she carried you with her. Isn’t that what love does? It changes shape but never really dies?”

The glasses on the shelves chimed softly in response—a sound like distant wind chimes that built and faded in waves.

“Is that what you wanted to know? That she remembered? That she loved you even after?” Tessa found her conversational groove with a Victorian ghost surprisingly natural. “Because I understand impossible love situations. I’m living one right now.”

The chill intensified as if Will was leaning in to listen. The fog pressed against the windows with unusual persistence.

“I want to help,” she insisted. “Both of us, actually. You with your unfinished business, me with my apparent talent for falling for completely unsuitable men. But you need to show me how?—“

A photograph on the mantelpiece shifted slightly—not the glasses this time, but something more personal. Will was listening, responding in his own way.

Tessa moved closer to see which photo he’d chosen. It was one of the pub during the war, customers and staff gathered around the bar despite the blackout curtains. She touched the frame gently.

“You had a whole life here, didn’t you? Before it all went wrong.”

Her phone’s sudden ring shattered the quiet moment. Sebastian’s name illuminated the screen, and Tessa’s heart clenched with equal parts hope and dread.

Of course. Right when I’m finally talking to Will properly.

She moved to the window, needing the visual anchor of the street beyond as she answered. The supernatural presence seemed to step back, giving her space for this conversation.

“Tessa?” Sebastian’s voice carried unfamiliar strain.

“Yes,” she replied, switching on a lamp. Warm light pushed back the darkness. “Just closing up. What’s wrong?”

The concern in her voice surprised them both.

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. When he finally spoke, he’d retreated behind professional distance.

“Victor has me trapped. The board meeting confirmed it.”

Her stomach dropped. “What do you mean, trapped?”

“I found evidence—Victor’s been manipulating company finances for years. Shell companies, forged authorizations, systematic fraud.” His voice carried bitter frustration. “But I can’t prove it in time. He’s forcing the Red Lion acquisition through, and if I refuse...”

Sebastian paused, and she could hear him struggling with what came next.

“He’ll have me removed as CEO and proceed with demolishing the pub anyway. At least if I comply, I keep my position to fight him later.”

Tessa gripped the barstool harder. This was worse than she’d imagined—not because of the threat, but because of his response to it.

“So you’re choosing to go along with his blackmail,” she said quietly.

“I’m choosing strategy over principle,” Sebastian replied, his voice hollow. “If I make a stand now, we both lose everything and Victor still wins. This way, I can?—“

“This way, you can tell yourself you had no choice while you destroy what I love most.” The words came out sharper than she’d intended, but she didn’t take them back.

A long pause. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Tessa, you don’t understand the position I’m in. Victor has years of leverage?—“

“I understand perfectly.” Her voice was steady despite the hurt building in her chest. “You’re choosing your career over us. Over what’s right. You’re making the calculated business decision.”

“That’s not—“ Sebastian’s voice cracked. “I’m falling in love with you. This is killing me.”

The words hung between them, raw and desperate. Tessa’s free hand flew to her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs. He’d said it. Actually said it.

But it didn’t change anything.

“Then don’t do it,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Stand up to him. Choose what’s right over what’s safe.”

“And watch him destroy everything anyway while I lose the ability to stop him?” Sebastian’s frustration bled through. “This isn’t just about us, Tessa. This is about?—“

“About you being too afraid to risk your position to do what you know is right.” The disappointment in her voice surprised them both.

Silence stretched between them, heavy with everything they weren’t saying.

“The formal offer arrives tomorrow,” Sebastian said finally, his voice hollow now. “Well above market value—more than the pub is worth. I wanted you to hear it from me first. Before the lawyers get involved.”

She could picture him in his office, probably staring at his hands, hating every word he was saying but saying them anyway.

“How noble of you,” she replied, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.

“Tessa, I need you to know—“ Sebastian’s voice broke completely. “This isn’t what I wanted. Any of it.”

“But it’s what you’re choosing,” she said simply. “Despite knowing it’s wrong. Despite claiming to love me.”

For one moment, she heard the man behind the businessman—vulnerable, hurting, trapped by his own calculations.

“Your heritage application—it’s still viable,” he said, retreating to practicalities. “Don’t give up on that.”

“Of course not,” she replied, professionalism her only remaining armor. “I’ll fight for this place with everything I have. Will that be all, Mr. Westfield?”

The return to his surname hit like a physical blow. His sharp intake of breath told her he felt it.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Goodnight, Ms. Lawson.”

After they disconnected, Tessa stood frozen in the silence that followed. She remained by the window, phone still in her hand, watching her reflection waver in the dark glass.

He was falling in love with her. Had said it, desperately, in the middle of explaining why he was choosing his career over their relationship anyway.

She’d known from the beginning that Sebastian represented Westfield Development. She understood business, understood difficult choices. But somewhere between ghost hunting and midnight conversations, between shared pastries and stolen kisses, she’d begun to hope he might be different.

Hope. What a dangerous thing.

And now she knew the truth. When it mattered most, Sebastian Westfield would choose strategy over principle, calculation over courage. He would make the safe business decision and tell himself he had no choice.

The candle rekindled without warning, its flame bright and unwavering. When she turned from the window, she saw that Will had moved the wartime photograph closer to the candle’s light, as if drawing her attention to it again.

She crossed the room to study the faces in the wartime photograph more closely. “You understand, don’t you? Loving someone who won’t fight for what matters?”

The temperature in the room shifted again—no longer the sharp cold of before, but warmer, as if Will was offering comfort rather than demanding attention.

“Some people choose safety over love,” she whispered, touching the glass over the photograph. “Even when they claim it’s breaking their hearts.”

A gentle breeze stirred through the room despite the closed windows, lifting her hair softly. Will’s presence felt different now—not urgent or demanding, but quietly supportive.

The pain was real and sharp, but not fatal. She’d survived worse losses than this.

“I understand now,” she told the empty room, addressing Will and herself equally. “Some people are worth fighting for. Others aren’t brave enough to fight for anything.”

The pub. Her grandmother’s cherished memories of sheltering here during the Blitz. Will Donovan’s peace. And the heritage application—still her best shot at protecting what mattered most, regardless of what Sebastian’s company chose to do.

She didn’t need someone who claimed to love her but wouldn’t risk anything to prove it.

The temperature settled into comfortable warmth. Will’s presence felt peaceful now—understanding, almost grateful. The candle flame steadied, casting warm light that seemed to embrace rather than illuminate.

“We’ll find a way,” she promised the room, and meant it. Not just to save the pub, but to honor what love looked like when it chose courage over comfort.

Outside, fog pressed against the windows, but it no longer felt ominous. Instead, it seemed to wrap around the pub like a gentle embrace, as if the city itself understood that some people revealed their true character under pressure.

Tessa watched it swirl and shift, accepting what she couldn’t change while holding tight to what she could still fight for. She would battle for The Red Lion until the end—not because Sebastian had inspired her, but because it had always been worth the fight.

She owed that much to her grandmother’s cherished memories. To Will Donovan’s story. And to herself.

The fog began to thin, revealing glimpses of streetlights beyond, like stars emerging after a storm.