Page 23 of Twisted Love

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.

CHAPTER15

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