Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
RAVEN
T he sound of her voice shattered the cocoon of delicious sensations that surrounded me. Earl’s hand brushes mine, and when our eyes meet, there’s a knowing look between us—a silent acknowledgment of what we’ve just done, what we’re both still feeling. My heart races, my skin humming with an unspoken need for him to touch me again. Slowly, I turn away from him and face her.
Annabelle appears.
Her voice is light and twinkling with affability as if we’re all best friends. She sidles up to Earl, her smile wide, her gaze focused solely on him. “I thought you’d snuck out to head home,” she says, ignoring my presence entirely. The way she leans in, the way her body angles toward his as though I don’t exist stings.
Without hesitation, I slide my hand through his, linking our fingers. “We were just about to leave,” I say firmly, my voice steady despite the heat of anger bubbling inside me. I don’t look at Annabelle, focusing instead on Earl. My words are more for her benefit than his. Let her see where his loyalties lie.
But Annabelle doesn’t back down. “Oh, but before you go, I have a small request,” she says, her tone sweet, almost cloying. She tilts her head, a picture of practiced innocence. “Earl, do you think you could spare a moment? It’s important.”
I feel the muscles in his arm tense under my grip, but his face remains unreadable. “If it’s important, say it now,” he replies, his voice clipped. “We’re in a hurry.”
Annabelle’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—hesitation, perhaps? “For Raven’s sake,” she says, glancing at me for the first time all evening, “it might be better if we talked privately.”
My patience snaps. “Then don’t bother saying it at all,” I shoot back, stepping forward. My grip on Earl’s hand tightens, and I glare at her. “We’re leaving.”
The words hang heavy in the air, and Earl turns to me, his brow furrowed. “Raven,” he says, his voice lower now, warning, “perhaps I should hear what Annabelle has to say.”
I freeze, astonished that he has responded to me in this way, in this tone, in front of her of all people. It’s like he has dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.
Annabelle’s expression shifts into delighted smugness, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of an argument.
“Fine,” I say as if it doesn’t bother me in the least that my husband would put her before me, his wife. I release his hand.
“See you in the car,” Earl says.
Wordlessly, I turn and walk away, my heels clicking sharply against the floor as I make my way toward the exit. The voices and laughter around me blur, my pulse pounding in my ears. Earl’s words replay in my mind, each one cutting deep. He stood there, defending her, taking her side, acting as though I was the unreasonable one.
By the time I reach the valet station, my anger has morphed into something colder, more resolute. The attendant brings the car around, and I climb into the backseat without a word, my hands clenched in my lap.
The car idles quietly at the valet station, the faint hum of the engine doing nothing to quell the storm raging inside me. My hands remain clenched in my lap as I steal a glance back toward the grand entrance of the venue. The golden light spilling out onto the steps seems to mock me, warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold knot twisting tighter in my chest.
I wait.
The minutes tick by, each one slower than the last. A couple emerges, laughing as they descend the staircase, their silhouettes elegant and carefree. Another group follows, their voices carrying faintly in the night air. But there’s no sign of him. No sign of Earl. My nails press into my palms as my mind drifts, unbidden, to the possibilities.
Is he still with her?
The thought surfaces, unwelcome and sharp, and I force myself to shake it off. I won’t let my imagination run wild. He’s probably just tying up loose ends, exchanging polite goodbyes. But then another thought creeps in—what if it’s more than that? What if she is telling him what I told her? Nah. That I know for sure she is not doing. But what if he’s holding her now, whispering the same low, intimate words he’d whispered to me not long ago?
My stomach churns, and I snap my gaze back to the valet in front of me. I don’t care, I tell myself. This isn’t jealousy. It’s annoyance. That’s all.
But the ache in my chest betrays me.
The clock on the dashboard glows brightly, each flickering number marking the passage of time. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty. One minute. Five minutes. Seven minutes. By the time I catch sight of him, I’m teetering on the edge of leaving altogether.
Earl steps out of the building, his figure backlit by the golden glow of the foyer. He doesn’t rush, his movements are calm and measured, as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. My heart thuds heavily as I watch him scan the valet line, his eyes landing on his car. For a moment, I think he looks relieved, but it’s gone too quickly to be certain.
I turn my head sharply away and pretend to be absorbed in the view outside the car. I hear the sound of his approaching footsteps, but I don’t turn around. The door opens, and the seat dips slightly as he slides in beside me. He shuts the door quietly behind him. Still, I don’t turn.
Neither of us speaks and the driver pulls away. The quiet hum of the tires on the tarmac fills the terrible space between us. I keep my gaze fixed out the window, watching the lights pass in a kaleidoscope of colors. Earl doesn’t speak, but I can feel his presence like a gravitational pull, drawing every ounce of my attention despite my best efforts to resist.
“You’re quiet,” he notes.
My fingers tighten on the hem of my dress as I struggle to find the right words. Anger simmers beneath the surface, but it’s tangled with hurt and pain.
“What do you want me to say, Earl?” I ask, finally turning around to face him. “That I’m thrilled you kept me waiting while you entertained Annabelle?”
“I’m sorry, but I think you’re under the mistaken impression,” Earl says, his voice smooth but laced with venom, “that you somehow have the right to dictate my actions. Or to speak to me in the way you are doing now.” He shifts slightly, turning to face me fully, his expression a mask of calculated detachment. “I can talk to whoever I want. And if I wanted to take Annabelle up on her offer, go up to her hotel room, and fuck her—then I could. And you wouldn’t get to say a word about it.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. My chest tightens, a sharp ache blooming in my ribs as his words echo in my mind. If I wanted to. If I wanted to. The sheer audacity and cruelty of him makes tears burn into my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him.
But Earl is not finished. His voice is low, almost mocking. “So don’t sit there, bitch and whine, acting like you own me. You don’t own me. I own you. Don’t forget what this is, Raven. Don’t forget what you are to me.”
The tears spill over before I can stop them. Hot, humiliating streaks down my cheeks that hurt my heart. If the car wasn’t already moving, I would have thrown the door open and walked into the night.
But instead, I sit there, silent, my hands trembling in my lap, speechless with shock, sorrow, and pain. To be so humiliated, so degraded …
I want to tell him he’s wrong, that he’s cruel, that he’s causing an irreparable rift between us, but the words lodge in my throat. What is the use? I’ve tried everything and nothing works. Sure, it’s good for a tiny bit, while we’re having sex, but almost immediately afterwards he morphs into a heartless monster again. I swallow the lump in my throat and stare out the window.
By the time the car pulls up to the house, my anger has hardened into something colder. If this is what he wants, if he wants this relationship to be devoid of intimacy, of even basic decency, then that’s exactly what he’ll get.
The chauffeur opens my door, and I step out and throw his jacket back into the back seat of the car. Rain has begun to fall. It’s light but steady, the drops soaking into my hair and dress as I walk calmly toward the front door.
I’ve only taken a few steps when I feel it—a strong hand clamping down on my arm, spinning me around.
“Let me go!” I yell, twisting in his grip.
Earl’s face is inches from mine, his expression thunderous. “Raven,” he snaps, his face white with fury. “You don’t just walk away from me like that.”
“Leave me alone, Earl,” I spit, yanking my arm free, but he’s stronger. His fingers tighten, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep me there.
“Are you out of your mind?” I hiss, trying to shake him off again. “Let me go, Earl. Right now!”
Nora appears at the open doorway, her eyes widening in concern as she takes in the sight of us.
“Mrs. Jackson, are you alright?” she asks, her voice tentative.
“Well? Am I alright?” I ask Earl taunting.
Earl’s gaze snaps to Nora like a whip. “Leave,” he commands, his voice sharp enough to make her flinch.
But to her credit, she doesn’t leave. “Mrs. Jackson,” she calls again courageously. “Are you alright?”
Her voice carries distress and it makes me feel ashamed of myself for involving her. I turn my head towards her and flash her a smile.
“I’m fine,” I say.
Nora hesitates, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.
“You can go now. Thanks, Nora.”
She nods and disappears into the house.
His grip falters for that split second, and at that moment, I wrench my arm free. My chest heaves as I take a step back, my eyes never leaving his. My heart pounds in my chest, a mix of anger, pain, and something dangerously close to regret. I see it now. How na?ve I was to think I could make it work. It is hopeless.
I don’t know if I can remain one more second in this place knowing for sure now that I’ve lost him. The raindrops falling on my head are getting bigger and colder, but it’s my heart that feels like it is encased in ice.
Before he can stop me, I whirl around and run towards the garden. He shouts, calling my name, his voice urgent and rattled, but I don’t stop. I’m terrified he will follow me, but thankfully, he doesn’t. The rain suddenly starts pouring in heavy sheets of water. But I can’t go back to the house. I know he is expecting me to as there is nowhere else to go, but I won’t give him that satisfaction. I will do anything possible to be as far away from him as I can. I will wait until he is asleep then I will creep in and leave before dawn. I change direction and head toward the land at the back of the conservatory, towards the lake. The rain washes away my racking sobs. I wish I could go to my parents’ home right now and this time around use my brain rather than my stupid emotions, and never come back.
The rain pours relentlessly, the icy drops soaking through my clothes until the chill reaches my very bones. My hair clings to my face, plastered against my skin, as I wander aimlessly through the grounds, my heels sinking into the soft, rain-soaked earth. The cold bites at me and makes me shiver, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest, the hollow emptiness that Earl’s words have carved into me.
I’m like a mad woman weeping inconsolably, walking in circles, and wailing softly, ‘How could he?’ again and again. I’m glad there is no one to see my distress or how low I have fallen. My parents would be shocked to see the state I am in. How long has passed since I ran away from him? Must be no more than a few minutes, but it feels like forever. I don’t think I can wait until he goes to sleep. Maybe I’ll wait a little while longer and then I’ll try and tiptoe in through the back door. My arms wrap around me, desperate for warmth, but the freezing wind cuts through my drenched dress, leaving me trembling and weak.
My mind spins back to the beginning—to the stolen moments when everything felt so perfect. To the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered. What changed? What the hell happened? How did it all fall apart so completely? How did we get here? His words replay in my head, over and over, each one a dagger sinking deeper into my heart.
You don’t own me, I own you . The words are sharp, bitter.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the thoughts that threaten to drown me. The rain intensifies and I can barely see a few feet ahead of me, and I stumble as my heel catches on the uneven stone path. My breaths come in short, shuddering gasps as the cold sinks deeper into my body. My fingers are numb, and my toes ache from the chill seeping through my soaked shoes.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this—if it can even be fixed. The weight of it all crushes me, and I stop walking, my knees trembling beneath me. I close my eyes, letting the rain wash over me as exhaustion pulls at my limbs. I feel so small, so lost.
A voice breaks through the haze. “Mrs. Jackson!”
I blink, turning toward the sound. Through the sheets of rain, I see Nora hurrying toward me, an umbrella held high above her head, something bulky tucked under her armpit. Relief rushes through me, mingling with the fresh wave of tears that spill down my cheeks. She reaches me, her face pale with worry, and without a word, she drapes a thick blanket around my shoulders.
“It’s freezing cold,” she says, her voice trembling as she tugs the blanket tighter around me. “Come inside, please. You’ll catch your death out here.”
Her warmth and concern undo me. Unable to form words, I can only nod weakly. Kneeling down on the ground she takes my stilettos off and slips a pair of rain boots over my frozen feet. The simple gesture sends a fresh wave of gratitude coursing through me, and I let her guide me towards the house. I cling to the blanket as we make our way back toward the glow of Earl’s house.
Under the shelter of the umbrella, Nora walks close beside me, shielding me from the worst of the rain. The warmth of the blanket is a stark contrast to the icy wetness of my clothes, and I feel the first stirrings of comfort seep into my frozen limbs.
When we reach the door, Nora opens it quickly, ushering me inside. The warmth of the house envelops me like a balm, and I feel my body start to thaw, though the ache in my chest remains as painful as ever.
“Everyone’s gone to bed. Take that dress off and sit down by the fire,” Nora urges gently, guiding me to a chair near a wood burner in the far end of the kitchen. “While I’ll run a hot bath for you.”
But I feel too weak to undress. I just sink into the chair, my fingers clutching the blanket tightly around me. The fire crackles softly, its warmth a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. As the rain continues to lash against the windows, I close my eyes and let the exhaustion take over, hoping for even a moment’s respite from the turmoil swirling in my heart.