Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
My thoughts shift fully to Earl. He’d left early this morning, his expression tight as he kissed my forehead and told me he’d be back soon. Something had happened at the construction site. A scaffolding collapsed, and there were injuries. My chest tightens just thinking about it. I know Earl is careful, but accidents can happen to anyone. I reach for my phone again, hesitating before composing a quick text.
Are you okay? Please let me know when you’ll be back.
I hit send, my thumb lingering over the screen as if waiting for an immediate response. He hasn’t texted all day, and the silence gnaws at me, but I understand. Some people are hurt, a few even seriously so. I shouldn’t be selfish. He’ll call me when he has the time.
The sound of hurried footsteps breaks my thoughts, and I glance up to see Nora standing at the door. She looks distressed and her hands twist in her apron.
“Mrs Jackson,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “There’s … there’s a … guest here to see you.”
I sit up straighter, the tension in her voice setting me on edge. “Who is it?”
“It’s … it’s Mr. Belafonte. Charles Belafonte,” she says and there is disapproval in her voice. “and he … well, he let himself in. He knows the house too well—he’s lived here all his life so … I couldn't stop... I'm so sorry, Mrs. Jackson.”
My stomach knots. Charles! I’ve ignored his calls, his texts, his attempts to reach me, hoping he’d get the message and leave me alone. The last thing I want is to deal with him now, but I can see the worry in Nora’s eyes.
“Should I call the police?” she asks, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“No. Of course not,” I say quickly, forcing my voice to remain calm despite the alarm coursing through me. “It’s okay. Let him in. I’ll handle it.”
Nora hesitates for a moment, but she nods and disappears down the hallway. I take a deep breath and brace myself. Charles’s persistence has always been unnerving, but the thought of him escalating things right now when Earl and I have just started to find each other again feels worse somehow.
Moments later, I hear his footsteps approaching. The conservatory suddenly feels smaller as I wait. When Charles steps into the room, his presence feels invasive, like a gust of cold air forcing its way inside.
“Raven,” he says, his voice smooth but with an edge that sets my nerves alight. “I heard on the grapevine that you’re not feeling well.”
I steel myself, meeting his gaze head-on. “Charles,” I say, my tone carefully neutral. “What are you doing here?”
Charles’s smile doesn’t falter, and something about it feels wrong, sending a ripple of unease through me. He steps closer, his polished shoes clicking softly against the tiled floor. The light filtering through the glass walls catches on his features, illuminating the intensity of his gaze.
“You know,” he begins, his tone unnervingly casual, “I was livid when you wouldn’t answer my calls. Weeks, Raven. It’s been weeks since I’ve been trying to reach you, but you’ve refused to respond to even one message.”
“Charles,” I start, my voice careful and steady, because something about him feels off. “I’ve been … preoccupied. With my father, with everything happening in my life, and as you can see I’ve been unwell for more than two weeks.”
He tilts his head slightly, his expression almost mocking. “I know,” he says, his voice dipping lower. “But I wanted to ask you something. Something has been bothering me. Did you ever love me? Did your mother never teach you that the worst way to leave a man is to leave them at the altar? And even if you do, you’re not supposed to turn around and marry someone else in the same dress?”
My heart stutters at his words, a pang of guilt shooting through me despite the steeliness I try to maintain. His eyes burn into mine, and for a moment, I can’t find the words to respond.
“I … I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I had to. You always knew I was marrying you because you promised to help my dad. When I found out you lied and you wouldn’t be able to, I had no choice but to consider our contract to be null and void. It was never my intention to humiliate you, but you have to understand—”
“I do understand,” Charles interrupts, his voice hardening as he takes another step closer. “At first, I was in shock. And yes, I’ll admit it—ashamed. But then I started to think, to really think, and I remembered something important. I know you, Raven. I know you inside and out and I know you’re no gold digger. I love you. I always have and always will.”
The conviction in his tone makes my stomach twist with dread. I force myself to hold his gaze, even as every instinct tells me to run.