Chapter 37
JACKSON'S POV
When I left my mansion last night, I was a mess— confused, overwhelmed, and angry. Not at Vera, but at myself. Because I know I love her deeply. And the thought of living without her feels like a death sentence.
I should hate her for coming into my life, flipping it upside down, reshaping who I am, and then trying to walk away. But I don’t. Instead, I feel like I’m spiraling into a black hole, barely holding myself together.
It was already late when I opened the gate and walked toward the plantation. I didn’t care about the time or the dangers. I just needed to get away from what I could’ve done. From the darkness I was so close to falling into.
I could’ve made her stay. If I had given in to the desperation, I could have done something reckless. I could have forced her hand, begged her to swear she’d never leave me. But I didn’t. Because she taught me better. She taught me restraint. Control. Compassion.
If it weren’t for her influence, we’d probably be lying in bed right now— naked, spent, and whispering our dreams of forever.
Damn it. I changed for her. I’m still changing. I would do anything to make her see me as someone worthy of her love. I would go to hell and back just to make her smile. And yet… I let her walk away.
Was I a fool?
I spent the entire night at the plantation, talking to the horses, the cattle, the plants, anyone or anything that would listen. I knew she’d be gone by morning. That’s why I stayed away. I couldn’t bear to see her leave.
Isn’t it bad enough that she’s aborting my child? Now she’s leaving like I never mattered. And she’s hurting Tim too. Just like every other woman I ever gave my heart to. She’s walking away without looking back.
When I returned this morning, I found Tim standing by the door, looking expectantly toward the gate. But he wasn’t waiting for me.
He was waiting for Vera.
"Where’s Miss Vera? Did you miss roads?" he asked as soon as I got to the gate.
"Why? Did she say she was going to look for me?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"She’s going to bring you back. She didn’t look happy either. I think we should go find her and—"
"I’ll do that. Alone. Maybe she has things to take care of," I cut him off. "Let’s go inside. I’m tired."
Why did she lie to him like that?
I held Tim’s hand and led him back into the house. He believes in her. Loves her. She had his heart from the moment they met. Mrs. Briggs and her kids used to be his favorites. But since Vera, he hasn’t even mentioned them.
It could’ve been beautiful. If she had accepted me. If she had our baby. If she had let herself be part of this home. We could have built something real. She, Tim, and I, together in this mansion, making a family out of broken pieces.
Then I walked into my bedroom and chaos greeted me.
Monica.
My room was a mess. Clothes, bottles, cigarette butts. And there she was, sitting on my bed, looking like regret wrapped in skin.
"We need a house help. That woman could’ve helped," she scoffed.
"Why my room? There are other rooms in this house. Fck you, Monica! I hate you!" I snapped.
"She’s leaving too, Jack," she said with a smirk. "I told you, no woman wants to stay with a man like you. Any woman who does must be as crazy as you."
That did it. Rage bubbled up inside me. I turned and stormed out before I did something unforgivable. She would’ve deserved it, but I still walked away.
I went to the kitchen and made breakfast for Tim. Texted Mrs. Briggs to pick him up for school with her children. Within twenty minutes, Tim waved at me and hopped into her car. She smiled politely before driving off.
I trudged back to my room, needing a shower before heading to work, only to find Monica in my bathroom. Naked. Drinking and smoking.
"What the hell are you doing in my bathroom?" I growled.
"Your bathroom? Jackson, it’s our bathroom. Your side chick’s gone. We’re alone now. Don’t be such a dck," she said, blowing smoke in my face.
"You’re insane," I muttered, grabbing her arm and dragging her out of the bathroom.
Monica has always been good at manipulation. After our divorce, her world fell apart. Her father’s company went bankrupt, her family lost everything, and she came crawling back to me for money although her father still had his priesthood to depend on.
I gave her some, out of pity, out of nostalgia, and because she’s the mother of my son. But she blew through it like it was water. I ignored her after that.
Then one night, I saw her. Masked. On a stripper pole at some seedy bar. But I didn’t need her face to recognize her. I could tell by the way she moved. By her scent. By her presence.
I brought her home that night. Told her I’d help her get back on her feet, only for Tim’s sake. I didn’t want him growing up with the shame of what she had become. I thought that was enough.
Clearly, I was wrong.
I thought she’d leave after I kicked her out of the bathroom. I jumped in the shower, but minutes later, she was back. Locking the door behind her.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, turning to push her out again.
But she lunged forward and kissed me, hard. I tried to shove her away, but she clawed at me, bit my lip, gripped my hair.
"Please, Jack," she gasped. "This woman is on fire. I need you so badly I can’t breathe."
With a roar, I pushed her to the floor. My hand trembled, poised to slap her, but a sudden sound caught my attention.
A phone. Behind me.
I spun around and saw her phone propped up, recording.
She didn’t even try to hide it.
I snatched it up and checked the screen, it was locked. No delete icon. She had planned this. Another blackmail.
"You think I’m stupid? Well, let’s play, Monica," I snapped.
She burst into laughter. "You won’t destroy it. You know what I want. Simple arithmetic."
"Really? Whatever twisted reason you’re doing this, hear me now, I will never, ever sleep with you again. Not in this lifetime."
I threw the phone at her feet, grabbed my towel, and walked out, leaving behind the stench of smoke, desperation, and betrayal.