Page 30 of Twisted Love

He shifts in his chair, his shoulders slumping slightly as he exhales. “About the same,” he says, his voice low. “Tired, mostly. And the cough’s been worse at night.”

Mom glances over at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s been hard,” she admits softly, her fingers tightening around her napkin. “I’m trying to get him to rest more, but … you know how stubborn he is.”

Dad gives a weak chuckle, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Resting doesn’t fix much,” he says. “But I’m good.”

I nod, biting back the urge to argue. “Well,” I say, folding my hands in front of me, “we don’t have to wait anymore. I’ve made arrangements, and we can start treatment as soon as Monday.”

Their heads snap toward me, and for a moment, neither of them speaks. Mom’s eyes fill with emotion as she places her hand over her mouth. Dad blinks, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. “This Monday?” he asks, his voice barely audible.

“Yes,” I say firmly. “Earl was very generous. He’s already given me the first instalment for Dad’s medical procedures and I’ve already contacted the hospital and made an appointment for next week. So everything is ready. The doctors can start the process immediately.”

Mom sets down her fork, her brow furrowed in the way it always does when she’s worried. “We’re so grateful, sweetheart,” she says softly. “But … it just feels so fast. Are you sure about all this? About asking Earl for the money?”

I smile, keeping my tone light, even teasing. “Mom, he’s my husband. It’s his job to help with things like this. Honestly, he didn’t even hesitate. He wanted to come along today to say hello, but he’s busy during work hours. But he’ll try to come next time.”

They exchange a glance—one of those quiet exchanges that speak volumes without words. Dad clears his throat, leaning back in his chair. He looks tired and pale, but there’s a flicker of hope in his eyes. “It’s not just the money, though,” he says, his voice rough. “We’re worried about you, kiddo. This whole situation … it wasn’t what you wanted, was it?”

“Dad,” I say firmly, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “This is exactly what I always wanted. I’ve wanted Earl from the first moment I set eyes on him. No more discussions about my marriage. You’re going to start your treatment on Monday, and everything’s going to be okay. That’s all that matters for now.”

“You’ve always been stubborn, but thank you, Raven. I couldn’t ask for a better daughter than you,” Dad mutters gruffly.

But my mother refuses to let it lie. “It’s just … Earl is such a mystery. How did he get so wealthy so quickly? Why did he disappear for all those years?”

I laugh lightly and lean back against my chair. “You know, I asked him the very same thing. He told me it wasn’t overnight—it just looks that way. He got lucky and put everything into the right opportunities. He’s smart, Mom. And determined. I promise I’ll tell you more about it, but another time, okay?”

Mom nods, but there’s a flicker of unease in her eyes. “Well, if he’s taking good care of you, that’s all we can ask for.”

“He is,” I say brightly, forcing my voice to bubble with enthusiasm. “He’s been amazing, really. And once things settle down, he’s going to come by and visit you both. I promise.”

They don’t push further, though I can feel their worries lingering in the room like an uninvited guest. I take a deep breath, determined to shift the mood. “Anyway,” I say, standing and stacking the plates to bring to the sink, “let’s not dwell on all that. The important thing is that we can schedule Dad’s treatment starting Monday. Isn’t that amazing?”

Dad’s lips tremble slightly as he nods. “It’s more than amazing, kid. It’s a miracle.”

“We’ll get through this,” I tell him firmly. “Together.”

The conversation lightens after that, and we finish the meal with Mom’s famous cookies. We laugh and share old stories, and for a little while, it almost feels normal. I cling to that feeling.

For now, I’ll keep doing what I do best—pretending everything is fine.

CHAPTER18

EARL

Ihardly ever drink. I’ve seen what it’s done to my father, how he sought it out as refuge through every failure in his life. Failed businesses. Failed marriages.

But now, here I am, seated in the music room, staring out at the storm raging across the night sky, a tumbler of whiskey in my hand. It burns down my throat. I’ve been sipping it steadily—not drunk, but I know it’s almost time to stop. And yet, I don’t, because I’m waiting. Not consciously, but the storm holds my gaze. I know what I’m waiting for.

Raven isn’t back yet.

Irritation coils in my chest, tightening with every crack of thunder. She said she was visiting her parents, but so many hours have passed. And the thought gnaws at me: Is she really? Or is she with Charles? My stomach twists at the possibility, and I grit my teeth, hating myself for being so obsessed with someone who already betrayed me once. No matter how much I want to believe her, doubt clings to me like a second skin.

The headlights of the car I assigned for her use finally slice through the rain. She’s back. A flicker of relief settles in my chest as I straighten. I watch her figure dart through the downpour, her movements unhurried and graceful. And I remember she likes walking in the rain. I see Nora rushing out with an umbrella to meet her and shield her. I can make out the older woman’s voice, scolding her for not waiting in the car a moment longer.

I’ve left instructions for her to come see me the moment she returns and they have been dutifully passed on. I hear her footsteps on the hardwood floor and there is no urgency in them. I grip my glass tightly as I listen, my pulse quickening with every approaching step.

And then, there she is.

Her hair clings to her face, damp and wild, her blouse plastered to her skin from the rain. It clings in all the right places. A shaft of lightning lights up her face and figure. My eyes roam over her before I can stop myself, taking in the curve of her body, the delicate outline of her bra beneath the soaked fabric. My blood heats, and I hate how instantly and thoroughly she affects me.

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