CHAPTER FOUR — Ceaser’s Warning
The storm had passed by morning, but Magnolia Grove still felt soaked in something heavier than rain.
The ground was soft beneath Antony’s feet as he stepped out of the cabin, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and magnolia blossoms knocked loose by the wind.
The sky was a pale, washed-out blue, but the plantation felt darker than ever.
Ben joined him, stretching his arms with a groan. “Ain’t slept worth nothin’,” he muttered.
Antony didn’t answer. He hadn’t slept either. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Charlotte disappearing into the big house, the door closing behind her, the master’s hand on her chin.
He felt sick.
As they walked toward the fields, the workers moved slower than usual, their bodies heavy with dread. Everyone had heard the master call Charlotte inside. Everyone knew what that meant.
Antony’s jaw tightened.
Ben shot him a look. “Don’t do nothin’ stupid today.”
Antony didn’t respond.
He wasn’t sure he could promise that.
Charlotte emerged from her cabin just as the workers were gathering. Her face was pale, her eyes shadowed, but she held her head high. She walked with the same quiet dignity she always had, but Antony saw the tremor in her hands.
He stepped toward her before he could stop himself.
“Charlotte—”
She shook her head quickly, barely looking at him. “Not now.”
The words weren’t sharp, but they cut him all the same.
Before he could say anything else, Ceaser appeared beside her, placing a steadying hand on her back. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were hard.
“Get to your row,” Ceaser said quietly to Antony. “Now.”
Antony froze.
Ceaser rarely spoke to him directly. And never like that.
Ben tugged Antony’s sleeve. “Come on.”
Antony forced himself to turn away, but his chest felt like it was caving in.
The morning passed in a blur of cotton and silence. The sun rose higher, burning away the last traces of the storm, but the air remained heavy. Antony worked mechanically, his hands moving without thought.
He kept glancing toward Charlotte.
She worked beside Ceaser today, not with the other women. Ceaser stayed close, his body angled protectively, his eyes scanning the field like a man expecting danger.
Antony hated it.
Not Ceaser — he respected Ceaser more than most men on the plantation. But seeing Charlotte guarded by someone else, seeing her pain and not being able to reach her, tore something inside him.
Around midday, Talbot rode through the rows, checking the workers’ progress. His gaze lingered on Charlotte longer than necessary.
Antony’s grip tightened on the cotton boll in his hand.
Talbot smirked. “Master Edgefield want her workin’ near the house this afternoon,” he announced loudly.
Charlotte stiffened.
Ceaser stepped forward. “She ain’t finished her row.”
Talbot’s eyes narrowed. “You forget your place, Ceaser?”
Ceaser didn’t flinch. “No, sir. Just sayin’ she got work here.”
Talbot cracked his whip against the ground. “Master gave an order.”
Charlotte’s breath hitched.
Antony felt something inside him snap.
He stepped forward before he could think. “She ain’t—”
Ben grabbed him, yanking him back. “Antony, shut up!”
Talbot turned slowly, his eyes narrowing. “You say somethin,’ boy?”
Antony swallowed hard. “No, sir.”
Talbot stared at him for a long moment, then snorted. “Didn’t think so.”
He jerked his head at Charlotte. “Come on.”
Charlotte hesitated, her eyes flicking to Antony.
Ceaser touched her arm gently. “Go,” he murmured. “I’ll be close.”
Charlotte nodded, her face pale, and followed Talbot toward the house.
Antony watched her go, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst.
Ben exhaled shakily. “You tryin’ to die today?”
Antony didn’t answer.
He wasn’t sure he cared.
The afternoon dragged on, each minute stretching like a blade. Antony worked faster than he ever had, his movements sharp and angry. Sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes, but he didn’t stop.
He couldn’t stop.
Every time he looked toward the house, he imagined Charlotte inside. Alone. Afraid. At the mercy of a man who saw her as nothing more than property.
His stomach twisted.
Ben finally grabbed his arm. “You gon’ tear your hands open if you keep goin’ like that.”
Antony jerked away. “I’m fine.”
“You ain’t,” Ben said. “And you ain’t helpin’ her none by killin’ yourself out here.”
Antony stopped, breathing hard.
Ben lowered his voice. “Ceaser lookin’ out for her. You know that.”
Antony closed his eyes.
He did know that.
Ceaser had always protected Charlotte — long before Antony ever noticed her. They had grown up together, survived together, fought for freedom together. Ceaser had stood beside her in court, had risked everything to help her win her case.
Antony respected him.
But respect didn’t make the jealousy any easier.
When the sun finally dipped low, the workers were dismissed. Antony didn’t go to the cabin. He didn’t eat. He didn’t speak.
He went straight to the edge of the yard, where the path to the big house began.
He waited.
The sky turned orange, then purple, then black.
Still he waited.
Finally, the door of the big house opened.
Charlotte stepped out.
Antony’s breath caught.
She walked slowly, her shoulders slumped, her steps unsteady. Her dress was wrinkled, her hair loose around her face. She looked exhausted — not physically, but in her soul.
Antony moved toward her without thinking.
“Charlotte.”
She stopped.
For a moment, she didn’t turn around.
Then she did.
Her eyes were red.
Not from crying — Charlotte didn’t cry where anyone could see.
But from holding back tears she refused to let fall.
“Antony,” she whispered.
He reached for her, then stopped himself. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “No.”
But her voice trembled.
Antony stepped closer. “Charlotte… what did he—”
“Don’t,” she said quickly. “Please.”
He swallowed hard. “I can’t just stand by—”
“Yes, you can,” she said, her voice breaking. “You have to.”
Antony felt something inside him shatter. “I can’t.”
“You must,” she whispered. “For me.”
He stared at her, his chest aching. “I care ‘bout you.”
Her breath hitched. “I know.”
“And I ain’t lettin’ him—”
“You can’t stop him,” she said, her voice rising. “You can’t stop any of this. You try, and he’ll kill you. And then what? I gotta live knowin’ you died ‘cause of me?”
Antony stepped closer, his voice low. “I ain’t scared of dyin’.”
“I am,” she whispered.
The words hung between them, heavy and raw.
Antony reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away.
She didn’t.
His fingers brushed her cheek.
She closed her eyes.
For a moment — a fragile, stolen moment — the world softened. The pain, the fear, the cruelty of Magnolia Grove faded into the background.
Charlotte leaned into his touch.
“Antony,” she breathed.
He lowered his forehead to hers. “I ain’t lettin’ you face this alone.”
“You already are,” she whispered. “You just don’t see it yet.”
Before he could respond, footsteps approached.
Ceaser.
He stepped into the moonlight, his expression carved from stone.
“Charlotte,” he said quietly. “Come on.”
Charlotte pulled away from Antony, her eyes lingering on his for one last heartbeat.
Then she turned and walked toward Ceaser.
Ceaser waited until she was beside him before speaking.
He looked at Antony, his gaze sharp and unyielding.
“You need to stay away from her,” Ceaser said.
Antony’s jaw tightened. “I can’t.”
Ceaser stepped closer. “You will.”
Antony met his gaze. “I love her.”
Ceaser’s expression didn’t change. “I know.”
Antony froze.
Ceaser’s voice softened — not with kindness, but with truth.
“And that’s exactly why you gotta let her go.”
He turned and walked away with Charlotte.
Antony stood alone in the moonlight, the weight of Ceaser’s words pressing down on him like a stone.
But he knew one thing with absolute certainty.
He wasn’t letting her go.
Not now.
Not ever.