October 8, 2025 • 10 mins
Produced by Lila Sterling
© 2025 Lila Sterling. All rights reserved.
Recorded on October 04, 2025, at 07:56 PM EDT. Narrated with the “Lila Star” voice (medium-low pitch: 80-90%, high expressiveness: 70-80%, pacing: 0.9x) using 11Labs technology. Sound effects sourced from freesound.org. Published on Spreaker, available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and X. Follow #MidnightShadows for updates. For production support or inquiries, visit lilasterling.com
© 2025 Lila Sterling. All rights reserved.
Recorded on October 04, 2025, at 07:56 PM EDT. Narrated with the “Lila Star” voice (medium-low pitch: 80-90%, high expressiveness: 70-80%, pacing: 0.9x) using 11Labs technology. Sound effects sourced from freesound.org. Published on Spreaker, available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and X. Follow #MidnightShadows for updates. For production support or inquiries, visit lilasterling.com
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Riverside promises a Harlequin romance. Chapter one, The Return to Willowbank.
The October Mist curled along the Silver River, weaving through Willowbank,
a village cradled by willow draped banks and rolling hills,
where the air carried the scent of fresh bread and
damp earth. Clara Weston stepped from her rental car onto
the cobblestone path leading to her family's bakery, Willow Hearth.
(00:24):
At thirty two, Clara had carved a career as a
food writer in Seattle, crafting stories of culinary artistry, far
from the small town life she'd fled twelve years ago.
Her mother's recent passing had drawn her back to settle
the bakery's future, a task she planned to complete swiftly
before returning to her urban world. The bakery, with its
(00:46):
ivy covered brick facade and flower box windows, stood as
a relic of her childhood, full of memories she'd tried
to bury. Clara unlocked the door, the bell jingling softly
in the quiet. Inside. The air was warm with the
faint scent of yeast, the counters dusted with flour, the
oven's cold. She was here to assess the property meet
(01:07):
a realtor and sell. The bakery was faltering, Her mother's
debts were piling up, and Clara had no intention of staying.
But as she traced a finger along a worn rolling pin,
her heart stirred with memories of summers spent kneading dough.
Her laughter entwined with another's. Clara Weston, A deep voice
broke the stillness. She turned to see a man in
(01:27):
the doorway, his lean frame silhouetted against the misty light.
He wore a flannel shirt rolled to the elbows, his
dark hair slightly tousled, his hazel eyes sharp yet warm.
Her breath caught Julian Holt, her first love, the man
who'd broken her heart at twenty. Julian, she said, her
voice steady despite the jolt. What are you doing here?
(01:50):
He stepped inside, his boots soft on the tiled floor.
I'm the Bakeri's manager. Your mother hired me to keep
this place running. Didn't know you'd be back. Clara's throat tightened.
Her mother hadn't mentioned Julian, not once. I'm here to sell,
she said, lifting her chin. It's temporary. His eyes flickered,
(02:10):
a shadow crossing his face. This Bakeriy's more than a shop, Clara,
it's your family's heart. It's just a building, she said,
turning to a stack of recipe cards to hide the ache.
His presence stirred, but Julian's gaze lingered, reigniting memories she'd
buried deep Chapter two sparks in the kitchen. Over the
(02:32):
next few days, Clara immersed herself in the bakery's affairs,
reviewing ledgers, inspecting equipment, and arranging a realtor's visit. The
finances were grim, unpaid suppliers, outdated ovens, and the holiday
baking season looming. Julian was a constant presence, testing recipes,
repairing counters, his quiet efficiency both comforting and maddening. He'd
(02:53):
changed his frame, broader, his demeanor calmer, but his hazel
eyes still held the spark that had once made her
d of forever. One afternoon, as clouds gathered over the river,
Clara was in the kitchen sorting through chipped mixing bowls
when a sudden rain storm unleashed its fury. A leak
dripped onto the counter, threatening a stack of her mother's
(03:14):
hand written recipes. She grabbed a pot, muttering under her breath,
when Julian appeared, his jacket soaked, his hair damp. Need
a hand, he asked, his voice low over the rain's roar.
I've got it, she said, but the pot slipped, water
splashing her sweater. Julian caught it, their hands brushing, and
(03:34):
a spark shot through her Warm and unsettling. You're still stubborn,
he said, a faint smile, tugging at his lips. Her
pulse raced. Why you hear, Julian? Really? He set the
pot down, his eyes locking onto hers. Your mother asked
me to stay, to save this place for you. She
knew you'd come back. Clara's chest tightened. She was wrong.
(03:58):
I'm not staying. Julian stepped closer, rain dripping from his hair.
This village is in your soul, Clara. You feel it,
don't you. The air crackled, the storm outside, mirroring her
inner chaos. She wanted to push him away, to escape
the pull of his gaze, but she stood frozen. We
were kids, Julian. It's done, is it, he asked, his
(04:21):
voice soft a challenge. Thunder rumbled, and they shared a
quick laugh, the tension easing. Briefly, they worked together to
secure the leak, their movements a quiet dance. When their
shoulders brushed, Clara's skin tingled, and she caught Julian's glance.
Raw unguarded, she turned away, her heart pounding. She wasn't
here for him. She couldn't be. Chapter three, Shadows of
(04:45):
the Past. Weeks passed and Clara and Julian settled into
a tense rhythm, managing the bakery while dodging their shared history.
She noticed him, his hands deftly shaping dough, his rare
laugh cutting through the crisp air. But their break up loomed,
Julian's sudden withdrawal, his refusal to explain why he'd let
(05:06):
her go. One evening, while sorting through her mother's office,
Clara found a letter tucked inside a recipe binder. Her
mother's handwriting read, Clara Willowharth is your heart, even if
you've run from it. Trust Julian. He's kept his promise.
Her throat ached, what promise? Julian appeared carrying a tray
(05:26):
of fresh scones. Thought you'd want to try these, he said,
setting it down. Their fingers brushed as she took one,
and she flinched, the letter falling. He picked it up,
his expression softening. We had good times here, didn't we
until you pushed me away, She said, her voice sharp.
You never said why, Julian. He exhaled, his jaw tight.
(05:49):
My brother was in trouble back then, addiction debts. I
was stuck cleaning up his mess, working odd jobs. You
were headed for college, for a big life. I didn't
want to hold you back. The truth hit like a stone.
You should have told me, she whispered. I would have stayed.
That's why I didn't, he said, his eyes haunted. You
(06:09):
deserved more than Willowbank. Tears stung her eyes. You broke
my heart, Julian, mine too, he said, Stepping closer. His
hand hovered near her arm, but she stepped back, afraid
of the fire. His touch sparked. I'm selling, she said,
her voice trembling. This isn't my home any more. Julian nodded,
(06:31):
but his eyes held a quiet vow. I'm not giving up, Clara.
Chapter four, The festival's glow. Willowbank's River Harvest Festival was
days away, and the bakery was set to host a
bread tasting event to draw byers. Clara threw herself into preparations, polishing, counters,
baking test batches, displaying her mother's recipe cards. Julian helped,
(06:54):
his presence steady but electric, their every glance charged with
unspoken words. The festival night arrived, the village aglow with lanterns,
the air rich with yeast and river mist. Clara wore
a burgundy dress that hugged her curves, her chestnut hair loose.
Julian's eyes followed her as she greeted guests, his flannel
(07:15):
accentuating his lean frame, making her heart skip. You've brought
this place to life, he said, offering her a warm roll,
his voice warm. She smiled, her guard slipping, just trying
to sell it. His gaze softened, Is that really what
you want? Before she could answer, a woman's voice sliced
through the crowd. Julian holt still tending this old bakery
(07:39):
I see. Clara turned to see a woman in a
sleek blazer, her blonde hair pinned tightly, her smile sharp.
Julian's face hardened Vivian, He said, what are you doing here?
Vivian's eyes flicked to Clara, calculating scouting an opportunity. This
bakery could be a gourmet chain with the right investor.
(08:01):
Clara's heart sank. A new threat, a shadow from Julian's past,
and the bakery's future hung in the balance. Chapter five,
Vivian's Shadow. Vivian lingered near the tasting table, her blonde
hair gleaming under the lantern light, her eyes scanning the crowd. Clara,
I take it, she said, extending a manicured hand. Vivian
(08:24):
marsh with Marsh Enterprises. Your bakery's charming, but it's hemorrhaging money.
My firm's offer could clear your debts and give you
a fresh start. Clara's grip tightened on her roll. Willow
Hearth not for sale, she said, her voice firm. Vivian's
smile was razor thin. Everything has a price, Clara. Julian
knows that, don't you, Julian. Julian's jaw clenched, his hazel
(08:48):
eyes cold. Leave Vivian, You're not welcome here. Vivian's laugh
was sharp, still the protector. I see, but you can't
save this place forever. She turned, her blazers swishing, and
melted into the festival crowd, leaving tension in her wake.
Clara faced Julian, her heart pounding. What did she mean?
(09:08):
What's your history with her? He exhaled, rubbing his neck.
Vivian tried to buy my family's cafe years ago after
my brother's troubles tanked it. She wanted to turn it
into a franchise. I fought her off, but she's persistent.
Clara's chest tightened. You didn't tell me she was part
of your past. I didn't think she'd show up here,
(09:29):
he said, his eyes meeting hers. I'm sorry, Clara, I'm
on your side. The sincerity in his voice softened her,
but Vivian's words nod at her. Could she trust Julian
with shadows lurking in his history? No more secrets, she said,
I need the truth. Julian. He nodded, his hand brushing hers.
(09:50):
You'll have it, I promise. Chapter six, The Bakery's Burden.
The next morning, Willowbank woke to a misty dawn, the
air heavy with river missed in ye East. Clara dove
into the bakery's chaos, sorting financial records, inspecting ovens planning
for the holiday season. The finances were dire, overdue supplier payments,
(10:11):
a failing cooler, and a roof kneeding repairs. Selling seemed inevitable,
but the thought of losing willow Hearth, her mother's legacy,
felt like losing a piece of her soul. Julian was
scarce tending the delivery dock, his absence a quiet ache.
Clara caught herself missing his steady presence, his rare smile
that warmed the village's chill. But Vivian's threat loomed, her
(10:35):
offer of one point six million dollars dangling like a
life line or a trap. Vivian appeared at the bakery's
entrance mid morning, her heels clicking on the cobblestone. I've
done my homework, she said, sliding a contract across a counter.
Your mother's debts are pub
Riverside promises a Harlequin romance. Chapter one, The Return to Willowbank.
The October Mist curled along the Silver River, weaving through Willowbank,
a village cradled by willow draped banks and rolling hills,
where the air carried the scent of fresh bread and
damp earth. Clara Weston stepped from her rental car onto
the cobblestone path leading to her family's bakery, Willow Hearth.
(00:24):
At thirty two, Clara had carved a career as a
food writer in Seattle, crafting stories of culinary artistry, far
from the small town life she'd fled twelve years ago.
Her mother's recent passing had drawn her back to settle
the bakery's future, a task she planned to complete swiftly
before returning to her urban world. The bakery, with its
(00:46):
ivy covered brick facade and flower box windows, stood as
a relic of her childhood, full of memories she'd tried
to bury. Clara unlocked the door, the bell jingling softly
in the quiet. Inside. The air was warm with the
faint scent of yeast, the counters dusted with flour, the
oven's cold. She was here to assess the property meet
(01:07):
a realtor and sell. The bakery was faltering, Her mother's
debts were piling up, and Clara had no intention of staying.
But as she traced a finger along a worn rolling pin,
her heart stirred with memories of summers spent kneading dough.
Her laughter entwined with another's. Clara Weston, A deep voice
broke the stillness. She turned to see a man in
(01:27):
the doorway, his lean frame silhouetted against the misty light.
He wore a flannel shirt rolled to the elbows, his
dark hair slightly tousled, his hazel eyes sharp yet warm.
Her breath caught Julian Holt, her first love, the man
who'd broken her heart at twenty. Julian, she said, her
voice steady despite the jolt. What are you doing here?
(01:50):
He stepped inside, his boots soft on the tiled floor.
I'm the Bakeri's manager. Your mother hired me to keep
this place running. Didn't know you'd be back. Clara's throat tightened.
Her mother hadn't mentioned Julian, not once. I'm here to sell,
she said, lifting her chin. It's temporary. His eyes flickered,
(02:10):
a shadow crossing his face. This Bakeriy's more than a shop, Clara,
it's your family's heart. It's just a building, she said,
turning to a stack of recipe cards to hide the ache.
His presence stirred, but Julian's gaze lingered, reigniting memories she'd
buried deep Chapter two sparks in the kitchen. Over the
(02:32):
next few days, Clara immersed herself in the bakery's affairs,
reviewing ledgers, inspecting equipment, and arranging a realtor's visit. The
finances were grim, unpaid suppliers, outdated ovens, and the holiday
baking season looming. Julian was a constant presence, testing recipes,
repairing counters, his quiet efficiency both comforting and maddening. He'd
(02:53):
changed his frame, broader, his demeanor calmer, but his hazel
eyes still held the spark that had once made her
d of forever. One afternoon, as clouds gathered over the river,
Clara was in the kitchen sorting through chipped mixing bowls
when a sudden rain storm unleashed its fury. A leak
dripped onto the counter, threatening a stack of her mother's
(03:14):
hand written recipes. She grabbed a pot, muttering under her breath,
when Julian appeared, his jacket soaked, his hair damp. Need
a hand, he asked, his voice low over the rain's roar.
I've got it, she said, but the pot slipped, water
splashing her sweater. Julian caught it, their hands brushing, and
(03:34):
a spark shot through her Warm and unsettling. You're still stubborn,
he said, a faint smile, tugging at his lips. Her
pulse raced. Why you hear, Julian? Really? He set the
pot down, his eyes locking onto hers. Your mother asked
me to stay, to save this place for you. She
knew you'd come back. Clara's chest tightened. She was wrong.
(03:58):
I'm not staying. Julian stepped closer, rain dripping from his hair.
This village is in your soul, Clara. You feel it,
don't you. The air crackled, the storm outside, mirroring her
inner chaos. She wanted to push him away, to escape
the pull of his gaze, but she stood frozen. We
were kids, Julian. It's done, is it, he asked, his
(04:21):
voice soft a challenge. Thunder rumbled, and they shared a
quick laugh, the tension easing. Briefly, they worked together to
secure the leak, their movements a quiet dance. When their
shoulders brushed, Clara's skin tingled, and she caught Julian's glance.
Raw unguarded, she turned away, her heart pounding. She wasn't
here for him. She couldn't be. Chapter three, Shadows of
(04:45):
the Past. Weeks passed and Clara and Julian settled into
a tense rhythm, managing the bakery while dodging their shared history.
She noticed him, his hands deftly shaping dough, his rare
laugh cutting through the crisp air. But their break up loomed,
Julian's sudden withdrawal, his refusal to explain why he'd let
(05:06):
her go. One evening, while sorting through her mother's office,
Clara found a letter tucked inside a recipe binder. Her
mother's handwriting read, Clara Willowharth is your heart, even if
you've run from it. Trust Julian. He's kept his promise.
Her throat ached, what promise? Julian appeared carrying a tray
(05:26):
of fresh scones. Thought you'd want to try these, he said,
setting it down. Their fingers brushed as she took one,
and she flinched, the letter falling. He picked it up,
his expression softening. We had good times here, didn't we
until you pushed me away, She said, her voice sharp.
You never said why, Julian. He exhaled, his jaw tight.
(05:49):
My brother was in trouble back then, addiction debts. I
was stuck cleaning up his mess, working odd jobs. You
were headed for college, for a big life. I didn't
want to hold you back. The truth hit like a stone.
You should have told me, she whispered. I would have stayed.
That's why I didn't, he said, his eyes haunted. You
(06:09):
deserved more than Willowbank. Tears stung her eyes. You broke
my heart, Julian, mine too, he said, Stepping closer. His
hand hovered near her arm, but she stepped back, afraid
of the fire. His touch sparked. I'm selling, she said,
her voice trembling. This isn't my home any more. Julian nodded,
(06:31):
but his eyes held a quiet vow. I'm not giving up, Clara.
Chapter four, The festival's glow. Willowbank's River Harvest Festival was
days away, and the bakery was set to host a
bread tasting event to draw byers. Clara threw herself into preparations, polishing, counters,
baking test batches, displaying her mother's recipe cards. Julian helped,
(06:54):
his presence steady but electric, their every glance charged with
unspoken words. The festival night arrived, the village aglow with lanterns,
the air rich with yeast and river mist. Clara wore
a burgundy dress that hugged her curves, her chestnut hair loose.
Julian's eyes followed her as she greeted guests, his flannel
(07:15):
accentuating his lean frame, making her heart skip. You've brought
this place to life, he said, offering her a warm roll,
his voice warm. She smiled, her guard slipping, just trying
to sell it. His gaze softened, Is that really what
you want? Before she could answer, a woman's voice sliced
through the crowd. Julian holt still tending this old bakery
(07:39):
I see. Clara turned to see a woman in a
sleek blazer, her blonde hair pinned tightly, her smile sharp.
Julian's face hardened Vivian, He said, what are you doing here?
Vivian's eyes flicked to Clara, calculating scouting an opportunity. This
bakery could be a gourmet chain with the right investor.
(08:01):
Clara's heart sank. A new threat, a shadow from Julian's past,
and the bakery's future hung in the balance. Chapter five,
Vivian's Shadow. Vivian lingered near the tasting table, her blonde
hair gleaming under the lantern light, her eyes scanning the crowd. Clara,
I take it, she said, extending a manicured hand. Vivian
(08:24):
marsh with Marsh Enterprises. Your bakery's charming, but it's hemorrhaging money.
My firm's offer could clear your debts and give you
a fresh start. Clara's grip tightened on her roll. Willow
Hearth not for sale, she said, her voice firm. Vivian's
smile was razor thin. Everything has a price, Clara. Julian
knows that, don't you, Julian. Julian's jaw clenched, his hazel
(08:48):
eyes cold. Leave Vivian, You're not welcome here. Vivian's laugh
was sharp, still the protector. I see, but you can't
save this place forever. She turned, her blazers swishing, and
melted into the festival crowd, leaving tension in her wake.
Clara faced Julian, her heart pounding. What did she mean?
(09:08):
What's your history with her? He exhaled, rubbing his neck.
Vivian tried to buy my family's cafe years ago after
my brother's troubles tanked it. She wanted to turn it
into a franchise. I fought her off, but she's persistent.
Clara's chest tightened. You didn't tell me she was part
of your past. I didn't think she'd show up here,
(09:29):
he said, his eyes meeting hers. I'm sorry, Clara, I'm
on your side. The sincerity in his voice softened her,
but Vivian's words nod at her. Could she trust Julian
with shadows lurking in his history? No more secrets, she said,
I need the truth. Julian. He nodded, his hand brushing hers.
(09:50):
You'll have it, I promise. Chapter six, The Bakery's Burden.
The next morning, Willowbank woke to a misty dawn, the
air heavy with river missed in ye East. Clara dove
into the bakery's chaos, sorting financial records, inspecting ovens planning
for the holiday season. The finances were dire, overdue supplier payments,
(10:11):
a failing cooler, and a roof kneeding repairs. Selling seemed inevitable,
but the thought of losing willow Hearth, her mother's legacy,
felt like losing a piece of her soul. Julian was
scarce tending the delivery dock, his absence a quiet ache.
Clara caught herself missing his steady presence, his rare smile
that warmed the village's chill. But Vivian's threat loomed, her
(10:35):
offer of one point six million dollars dangling like a
life line or a trap. Vivian appeared at the bakery's
entrance mid morning, her heels clicking on the cobblestone. I've
done my homework, she said, sliding a contract across a counter.
Your mother's debts are pub
Popular Podcasts
On Purpose with Jay Shetty
I’m Jay Shetty host of On Purpose the worlds #1 Mental Health podcast and I’m so grateful you found us. I started this podcast 5 years ago to invite you into conversations and workshops that are designed to help make you happier, healthier and more healed. I believe that when you (yes you) feel seen, heard and understood you’re able to deal with relationship struggles, work challenges and life’s ups and downs with more ease and grace. I interview experts, celebrities, thought leaders and athletes so that we can grow our mindset, build better habits and uncover a side of them we’ve never seen before. New episodes every Monday and Friday. Your support means the world to me and I don’t take it for granted — click the follow button and leave a review to help us spread the love with On Purpose. I can’t wait for you to listen to your first or 500th episode!
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com