Chapter 45
CHAPTER 45
EARL
T he morning's chaos replays in my mind as I drive home. What a day it has been. My body is heavy with fatigue, but my mind is racing. In my head, my workers are yelling amongst the sickening sound of scaffolding collapsing. Liability concerns swirl with genuine worries for my crew’s safety. My shirt clings to me caked with sweat and dust.
Then, I think of her.
Raven.
Her name is enough to soften the edges of the turmoil inside me. I picture her face as I left this morning, the morning sun painting her features with a soft glow. Even half-asleep, her presence was enough to ground me in a way nothing else ever has. She’s become my anchor, even if I’m too stubborn to admit it outright.
I smile despite the exhaustion. I wonder how long it’ll take before I can get her to completely let her guard down before the last remnants of her fear dissolve and I can finally tell her everything she means to me. I’ve come to terms with her need for wealth. I mean, I thought I was enough for her, but I guess I wasn’t. And so what? I rather have half of her than be without her. There’s so much I still need to say, but for now, I let myself bask in the thought of seeing her again.
As I pull into the driveway, the weight on my chest begins to lift. I’m home. She’s home. That’s all that matters. I step out of the car and stretch, brushing off the dust from my pants. My strides quicken toward the front door, eager to close the distance between us. But as soon as I enter, the energy in the house feels … wrong.
Nora is waiting in the foyer, wringing her hands, her face tight with worry. The sight stops me mid-step.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice sharp.
Her eyes dart toward the conservatory and back to me. “It’s Mrs. Jackson,” she says, hesitating. “Charles Belafonte came and took her away.”
“Charles?” I thunder, disbelief giving way to red-hot fury. “What the hell was he doing here?”
“I don’t know,” Nora says quickly, her words tumbling out. “He just showed up, and said he needed to see her. I wanted to call the police, but Mrs. Jackson said she would take care of it. They seemed to be on good terms. She told me it was fine, but something felt off.” She pauses, her brow furrowing. “She didn’t say anything, but she looked at me as she was trying to speak to me with her eyes before they drove off.”
My stomach twists. Speak with her eyes? I knew then that Raven wouldn’t have left willingly with him, not like this. Not when we have started to fall in love with each other again. My mind races, piecing together the fragments of what I know about Charles, about his obsessive nature. Panic grips me, and without another word, I bolt upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.
“What can I do to help, Mr. Jackson?” Nora calls after me, but I can’t stop. I need answers.
I burst into her bedroom, my eyes scanning the space for anything—anything—that might explain what has happened. The room is still. Too still. My gaze lands on the bathroom door, slightly ajar. My chest tightens as I step inside.
That’s when I see it.
The test.
It’s perched on the counter, a single object that feels like it’s sucking all the air out of the room. My heart pounds as I step closer, picking it up with trembling hands. The little 3+ sign stares back at me, its meaning unmistakable. I stare at it with shock.
The indicator says 3 +.
She’s pregnant. She’s three weeks plus.
A rush of emotions hits me all at once. Shock. Joy. Fear. My legs feel unsteady. She’s carrying my child. Our child.
But the joy is quickly overtaken by a wave of fear like I’ve never known. It surges through me like a fucking current. Charles has taken her. My wife and our baby—my family—are in danger. A chill creeps up my spine, and I know I can’t waste another second.
I stumble out of the bathroom. My thoughts are a chaotic blur as I race back down the stairs. Nora is still standing in the foyer, her worry evident as she watches me.
“Did they say where they were going?” I demand, my voice hoarse.
“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “They just left.”
“Damn it,” I mutter, yanking the front door open. “I’ll find her.”
My hands shake as I dial Annabelle’s number on the way to the car. She picks up after a few rings, her voice surprised and cautious. “Earl? Nice to hear from you. After the gala, I never thought I would again.”
I cut straight to the point. “Annabelle,” I say, my voice sharp. “Are you still in town? Do you know where Charles is right at this moment?”
There is a stunned pause, and then she speaks, her tone guarded. “I think so. Why? What’s happening?”
“Just answer the question,” I snap, starting the engine. “Is he staying anywhere nearby? Did he say anything to you?”
“No. I—I don’t know,” she stammers. “Earl, what the hell is going on?”
I become sick with worry and I know then that this is going to end very badly. “I need to know where he could have gone, Annabelle,” I say, barely managing to keep myself from yelling at her. “He went to the house and kidnapped Raven, Annabelle. He kidnapped her. She’s nowhere to be found, and her phone is switched off.”
For a moment there’s a silence on her end. I can almost hear her brain scrambling to process what I’ve just said. “Charles... he wouldn’t...” Her voice falters before she groans, “That idiot. That absolute moron.”
I clench my teeth, gripping the steering wheel tighter as my car zips through the streetlights. “Annabelle, listen to me. I need you to focus. Think. Where would he take her?”
“Earl, please,” she pleads, her voice shaking. “No matter how stupid he is, he wouldn’t hurt her. He’s not?—”
“Annabelle!” I bark, cutting her off impatiently. “I don’t care what you think Charles’s capable of. He’s already crossed the line by taking her. Now focus. Where could he have gone?”
Her breath catches, and I hear the faint sound of her pacing. “I—he... it could be anywhere. He could take her anywhere. He's allowed to take her anywhere, right …” She trails off, muttering something I can’t make out.
“Annabelle!” I snap again, losing all patience now. “He’ll need somewhere secluded. Somewhere unexpected. Think.”
There’s a long pause before she whispers, almost to herself, “Nanny’s old house.”
“What?” I ask, leaning forward as if it will bring her answer closer.
“Our Nanny’s house,” she repeats, louder this time. “Our family gave it to her, but when she died and there was no money to fix it up it has been abandoned for years. It’s out on the edge of town. Charles said he was fixing it up or something—just to get away from everything.”
“Send me the address,” I demand, already feeling a flicker of relief. This feels plausible. It feels right.
“Okay,” she says quickly, and within moments my phone buzzes with the location.
“Thank you, Annabelle. Thank you,” I say gratefully and cut the call short. I barely take the time to save the address before dialing the police. My voice is urgent and direct as I report the suspected abduction, providing them with the address and all the details I can think of.
As soon as the call ends, I ram my foot on the gas pedal, the car roaring as I speed toward the outskirts of town. My heart is pounding so hard it’s like a drumbeat in my ears. All I can think about is Raven, pregnant and terrified.
Her face flashes in my mind—her laughter, her smile, her warmth. And then the fear. I picture her scared, alone, wondering if I’m coming for her. The thought twists my stomach, and I grit my teeth against the rising panic.
“Hold on, baby,” I whisper into the silence of the car. “Just hold on, I’ll be right there. I’m coming for both of you.”
The roads thin out as I drive further, the town’s lights fading behind me. The address Annabelle sent is in a remote, overgrown area, and I can already feel the isolation. Every second feels like an eternity as I race towards my love.
When I finally see the faint outline of the small farmhouse in the distance, my breath catches. It’s shrouded in shadows, the surrounding trees casting long, eerie shapes across the property. There are no cars, and no signs of movement, but my gut tells me this is the place.
I kill the engine some distance away, not wanting to alert anyone inside the building of my presence. My pulse is hammering as I step out and every muscle in my body is taut with anticipation. When I get close enough, I hear faint sounds—muffled voices, Raven’s voice. My heart clenches, and all my focus sharpens on getting her out of there. My hands curl into fists.
“Hold on, baby Raven” I mutter quietly. “Just hold on.”