Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
EARL
T he tires crunch over the gravel as we pull into the lot. The place is nothing fancy—just a commercial property tucked between two weather-beaten buildings—but it has potential. My agent, Olivia Pierce, sits beside me, flipping through her notes with the efficiency of someone who thrives on control. She’s a sharp, no-nonsense operator, and she’s been relentless about finding me the right investments.
“This is a solid option,” she says, not looking up. “Prime location. Good foot traffic. You could do a lot with it.”
My focus is on the building as I step out of the car. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the lot, and there’s a faint smell of asphalt and fresh paint in the air.
I can immediately see that it’s a decent investment. The door of the property opens before Olivia and I can reach it, and I groan inwardly.
For fucks sake. Not him.
Daniel Grayson steps out, a practiced smile plastered across his face, the kind of smile that makes you want to wipe it off with your fist. He’s dressed sharp—too sharp for someone showing a property in a town like this—but that’s Grayson for you. Always playing the part.
“Mr. Jackson, welcome,” he says smoothly, his voice sliding over my name like oil on water. The bastard doesn’t even flinch. It’s like high school never happened. Like he and his crew didn’t spend years making my life hell.
I stop dead in my tracks and his smile falters for the briefest moment, tightening at the edges—a crack in the facade he’s desperate to maintain. It’s not confidence; it’s nerves. He wants me to acknowledge him, to brush the past aside and play nice, but I see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch slightly at his sides.
He needs this.
I feel his desperation radiating off him. I’m a very wealthy investor now, and he’s just a man trying to close a deal. He’s probably ready to lick my boots if it means securing this sale. He’s praying I won’t drag our history into the open.
Olivia, blissfully unaware of the tension coiled between us, steps forward, her heels clicking on the concrete ground.
I follow them inside, my shoulders stiff. The air between us crackles, unspoken tension filling the space as Grayson launches into his sales pitch.
“This is a fantastic opportunity,” he says, gesturing toward the open floor plan. His tone is slick and professional, but there’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before. “Perfect for the kind of business you are thinking of, Mr. Jackson.”
The way he says my name makes my teeth clench. He knows exactly who I am.
Olivia hums in approval, scribbling something on her clipboard as Grayson leads us to the windows. “You’ll notice the whole area is filled with natural light,” he says, all charm and polish. “It’s one of the property’s best features.”
Olivia’s phone buzzes, cutting through the tension. She glances at the screen. “So sorry, I need to take this. Carry on without me. Be back in a moment.”
She steps out, and the air in the room shifts instantly.
A heavy silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable. Daniel stands awkwardly, his smile faltering but not entirely disappearing. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clasping his hands in front of him like he’s trying to hold on to some semblance of professionalism.
“So,” he starts, his voice a touch higher than before, “do you have any questions about the property? Issues, history … anything at all? I want to be one hundred percent honest with you. I want to make sure you’re confident in your decision.”
I raise an eyebrow, amused by the way he’s squirming. “You don’t remember me?” I ask, my tone calm but pointed. “Or are you just putting on an act?”
His face freezes for a fraction of a second, and then he laughs—a nervous, breathy sound that’s almost convincing. “Oh, wait—Earl? Earl Jackson?” He snaps his fingers as if the recognition has just dawned on him. “Man, it’s been forever! I didn’t even recognize you at first. You look great!”
He thrusts his hand out for a handshake, his grin widening in what I can only describe as forced excitement.
I don’t take it.
Instead, I fold my arms across my chest and stare at him, letting the silence drag on just long enough to make him uncomfortable. “Nice to see you again, man. It really has been forever,” I say, my voice flat.
Daniel pulls his hand back, his smile flickering. “Yeah, yeah, it’s crazy running into you like this. Small world, huh? I heard you were back in town for a bit. Uh, I got married a little while ago. Uh, we’ve got a baby on the way.”
“Congratulations,” I say, my lips curling into a faint smirk. I can tell he’s trying to shift the conversation, to keep things light, but it’s not working.
The tension between us is a living thing now, and he knows it.
Before he can dig himself into a deeper hole, Olivia walks back into the room. She looks between us, her brow furrowing slightly at the atmosphere. “Everything okay here?”
I don’t take my eyes off Daniel. “I like this property,” I say, my voice cutting through the air. “I’ll take it—if Daniel here can explain, in gorgeous detail, how we know each other.”
Olivia blinks, confused, her gaze darting between us. “I’m sorry, what?”
Daniel stiffens, his shoulders drawing up as he tries to keep his composure. “Earl, come on,” he says, his tone tight. “That was a long time ago. We were kids. It was just a prank.”
My smirk vanishes. I take a step closer, and his breath hitches. “The part where you mocked me and my father?” I say quietly, my voice low and dangerous. “Or the part where you and your loser friends got me expelled?”
The room feels like it’s shrinking. Olivia’s eyes widen as she looks at Daniel, waiting for him to respond.
“I’m—” He stammers, his hands lifting in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. It was stupid, okay? We were just kids. We didn’t mean for things to go that far.”
“Save it,” I snap, cutting him off. My voice is cold now, sharper than the shards of glass I’d like to grind under my heel.
I turn to Olivia, my decision already made. “I have no interest in this property. Let’s go.”
She hesitates, clearly caught off guard, but then quickly follows me out. Behind us, Daniel doesn’t say a word, his silence and disappointment heavier than any revenge I could have planned.
Olivia and I see a few more properties before I head home. It’s almost evening, and there is a high chance I’d see Raven. The flicker of anticipation irritates me, but I can’t stop it.
The moment I step through the door, the first thing I notice is the massive glass vase of roses sitting in the entryway foyer. Its size alone makes it impossible to ignore, the blood-red blooms spilling over like some gaudy centerpiece at a wedding.
I freeze, narrowing my eyes. Where the hell did that come from?
“It’s definitely not from the garden,” I mutter striding past. Even the thought is absurd—the arrangement is too professional, too … obnoxious. Only one person would think of something so ostentatious.
“Nora,” I call out, and she appears almost instantly, her smile warm as always. “Mr. Jackson,” she greets with a small nod.
I glance at the arrangement again. “Where did that come from?” I ask sharply.
Nora tilts her head, her brow furrowing. “It came for the Mrs., Sir.”
“Who sent it?” My voice is clipped and throbbing with fury.
Nora hesitates, glancing back at the roses before stepping forward to retrieve something tucked beneath the glass jar. It’s a small white card, and she offers it to me with hesitant fingers, clearly picking up on the tension radiating off me.
I snatch it from her hand, flipping it open.
Yours always.
The words are bold, scrawled in familiar handwriting and the heart and sad face—that make my blood boil even.
Fuck Charles.
The words sear through any semblance of control I have left. Before I can stop myself, my fist swings out, smashing into the glass jar.
The roses explode across the floor and shards of glass scatter like shrapnel. The crash is deafening, a violent symphony that echoes through the foyer.
Nora screams, startled by the outburst. “Sir!” she exclaims, moving back, her hands flying to her mouth as she takes in the carnage.
I glare down at the mess I’ve made. The once-pristine roses are crushed, their ruined deep red petals stark against the pale marble. Drops of water slide down the wall where the vase had smashed, tracing slow, mocking lines.
Nora takes a tentative step forward, then backwards, her wide eyes fixed on the wreckage. Her voice trembles. “I’ll I’ll clean this up, Sir.”
She hurries away and disappears in the direction of the kitchen.
With my fists clenched I stare at the remains of Charles’s pathetic attempt to stake a claim. He’s playing games, and it’s fucking working—every nerve in my body is on fire.
The only thing worse than his audacity is the fact that I can’t shake the question of whether Raven would be happy that he sent them. Maybe she is expecting them and just hasn’t come down to collect them and take them up to her bedroom.
Maybe they are still texting in private. Even after marrying me, she would still be in contact with him. In my eyes, she’s a consummate liar and a gold digger. The more I think about it the more furious I become. At the same time, I’m startled by the intensity of my reaction. Jealousy burns and rages inside my chest. I want to kill that bastard.
I hear hurried footsteps. I look up and there she is at the top of the stairs: the gold digger I married.