Page 9 of Twisted Love

“I do think, though, that Earl came back for you. Why else would he come back to this shitty town when he is done well for himself? And why else would he snatch you away from Charles at the altar like that? There’s something there. I’m convinced he’s still in love with you. Just … talk to him, okay? Find out what’s going on in that thick head of his. He used to be so kind, but from all the wild talk flying around town, anyone would think you married the devil himself. For what it’s worth, I think he looks even more dreamy than he did before. And he was already a ten out of ten then.”

“Raven?” My mom’s voice cuts into Sunny’s monologue. I glance over my shoulder to see her standing in the doorway, worry etched into her face. Her hair is pulled back, and she’s wearing that tired look she gets when something is weighing on her mind.

“Gotta go, Sunny,” I say quickly and end the call. I turn to face my mom, brushing stray strands of hair out of my eyes.

She steps into the room, her gaze flicking to the half-packed bag on the bed. “Are you sure about this?” she asks, her voice heavy with concern. “Your father... he feels terrible about all of this. He’s worried.”

“Yes, I’m sure, Mom,” I say, though my voice trembles under the weight of the lie. I force myself to meet her eyes, straightening my shoulders in an attempt to seem confident. “We’ve been... talking,” I add quickly, glancing away as if that could make the lie less obvious. “Before today. I know the wedding was a bit of a scene, but things were always good between us. We understand each other and we’ll work it out somehow.”

The words taste sour as they leave my mouth, but I can’t bring myself to admit the truth—that I am just as shocked as everyone else is.

My mom doesn’t look convinced. She steps closer and lowers herself onto the edge of the bed. “And do you know why he disappeared all those years ago?” she asks gently, folding her hands in her lap.

I swallow hard and under the guise of grabbing another sweater from the closet, look away. “Issues with his dad, I think,” I mumble, forcing nonchalance into my tone. “But the main thing is he’s back now.”

A thick unnatural silence stretches between us. When I finally look back at her, she’s studying me, her expression unreadable.

“I always liked Earl, but he just seemed so different … so furious,” she says.

“It’ll be okay, Mom. I promise. Earl was once my world, my anchor and nothing has changed.”

She nods, stands, and places a hand briefly on my shoulder, a warm, fleeting touch. “The reason I came here is to tell you that a sleek black town car is parked outside, the kind you see in movies or TV shows, with a driver standing beside it in a crisp suit.”

My eyes widen. “Thanks, Mom. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

“Just... take care of yourself, okay? And always remember, we’re always here for you. No matter what happens you have a home here.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I blurt out before hugging her tightly.

I stand very still and watch her leave my room, but the moment she’s gone, the composure I’ve been holding onto crumbles. My hands shake as I stuff the last few items into the bag, my mind racing.

Why did Earl leave? Why did he marry me if he hates me? And how am I supposed to make this work with someone who is convinced I’m a gold digger?

I shove the zipper closed and heave the bag off the bed, my heart pounding. There’s no time to dwell on it now. I need to get to Thornfield Hall.

The rain has stopped and when I step outside, the elderly chauffeur who was leaning against the car, straightens and tips his cap in an oddly old-fashioned gesture.

“Mrs. Jackson?” he asks, his voice polite, professional.

“Uh... yes.”

He opens the back door with a practiced motion. “Mr. Jackson asked me to pick you up and take you to Thornfield Hall.”

I hesitate, gripping the strap of my bag tightly. The luxury, the formalities—it’s all so far removed from the world we grew up in. From the trailer park. From the Earl I thought I knew.

As I slide into the car, sinking into the soft leather seat, I can’t help but wonder: How did he come upon all this wealth? And what the hell happens next to us? The door closes and I’m ensconced in a gently perfumed, luxurious interior.

The journey to Charles’s house feels both familiar and alien, like stepping into a memory that doesn’t quite fit anymore. The town, with its tree-lined streets and weathered storefronts, hasn’t changed much. The lake shimmers in the distance, surrounded by sprawling gardens, but now, everything feels surreal, like I’m watching someone else’s life unfold.

I grip the handle of the car door tighter as the car turns into the driveway of the sprawling estate. My pulse has quickened and the nerves I’ve tried to suppress bubble up all at once as the house looms ahead. It’s grand and imposing, with a pristine stone façade, wide wraparound porch, and manicured gardens that seem to stretch endlessly towards the lake. When I was a young girl living in poverty, I used to envy people living in such grandeur, but those days are gone. Now I see such massive mansions as glamorous prisons. The people who live in them are never truly happy. I wonder again how Earl came to be rich enough to buy this place.

The car comes to a smooth halt, gravel crunching softly under the tires. I hesitate for a moment, staring out at the house. Is this going to be my prison where I will never be happy? The chauffeur opens my door, his polite, “Mrs. Jackson” shaking me from my daze. The title feels strange, but foreign. Didn’t I stand in front of the mirror a lifetime ago and practice saying it?

I nod and step out, clutching my purse tightly. The air smells of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers, but it does little to ease the nerves coiled tight in my stomach. None of this feels real.

I don’t see Earl anywhere, and that unsettles me more than I care to admit. I glance back at the sleek black town car parked behind mine. Is that his?

Nora, the Belafonte’s old housekeeper appears before I can spiral further, her warm smile a great comfort.

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