Chapter 12
~ Franklin ~
The following morning, Octavia and I were seated in the large dining hall. The silence between us was a suffocating weight that even the aromatic scent of expensive coffee couldn’t cut through.
I kept my eyes fixed on the tablet in front of , scrolling through market reports. The stock prices for the Flemington Group remained volatile—a constant, pulsing reminder of the "scandal shot" that had nearly dismantled my life’s work.
I looked up, my gaze landing on Octavia. She was the woman I was being forced to share my life with for the next two years. I watched her, lost in thought. She clearly felt my stare; she buried her face in her al, refusing to et my eyes until, finally, she snapped. She looked up, holding my gaze with a defiant edge.
"My mother called this morning," she said. Her voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
I didn’t answer imdiately. My thumb hovered over a fluctuating graph on the screen.
When I remained silent, she continued, her voice deceptively nonchalant.
"She’s eting with your grandfather today. Frederick wants to ensure everything is perfect for the press. They are hiring a wedding planner this afternoon."
"I see," I replied coldly.
The thought of my grandfather and her parents playing house with our lives was galling. But the machine was already in motion.
"Well, they should get on with it then," I added, returning my attention to the tablet.
In less than a week, I would stand at an altar and pledge two years of my life to a stranger, all while the mory of Bella remained a ghost in the back of my mind.
I abruptly stood up, the chair scraping against the marble floor. "et at the limo in five. I’ll drop you off. Since our ’love story’ begins today, we might as well give the audience what they deserve."
"I’m fine. I’ll call an Uber," Octavia said, her eyes fixed back on her plate.
"I hope you read the contract," I reminded her, my voice dropping to a warning low. "We need to be seen together in public to make this believable."
"I know what the contract says, but I don’t want to. Not right now."
"It wasn’t a request," I countered. "If I don’t see you in that limo in five minutes, I am going to co back in here, rip you out of that chair, and force you into the car myself. I’ll be waiting."
I grabbed my suit jacket and walked out.
Outside, the gardeners offered their usual greetings. I gave them a solemn nod and slid into the back of the limo. "We’re waiting for Miss Herman," I told Walter. He nodded, his face a mask of professional neutrality.
A few minutes later, the door opened. Octavia slid in, sitting as far away from as the seat allowed. We hit the road in our usual, heavy silence.
"Stop being moody and act happy," I muttered as we neared her office. "It’s for the public. Make them believe it."
She didn’t dignify that with a response. When we pulled up to the curb of her building, I spoke again. "I’ll be back later for the presentation. I have to head to my own office first."
"Yeah, okay," she shrugged. Walter opened her door, and she disappeared into the building without a backward glance.
Once I was settled at my desk at the Flemington Group, my grandfather called.
"Why didn’t you tell you were having breakfast with Octavia? I would have joined you," he grumbled.
"It was just breakfast, Grandpa. And it was boring."
"Dear boy, even if it was boring, you should have included . I haven’t properly welcod her to the household. It’s ungentlemanly."
"She isn’t complaining," I said, rubbing my temples.
"Regardless, it isn’t right. Now, about the wedding planner—Patricia Herman called last night. We’re eting this afternoon. We need to hasten the preparations since the date is so close."
"Fine," I said, pacing the length of my office.
"There is sothing else," Frederick’s voice turned serious.
"Sothing important."
I furrowed my brows.
"What is it?"
"I was suspicious about who leaked that photo at the Tower. It didn’t feel like a random stranger. I hired a private investigator—the man you saw with at the clubhouse yesterday. He gave his report."
My heart hamred against my ribs. "And?"
"The person who leaked the photo is Dorian Harrington."
I froze. "What? You an Harrington from our own Board of Directors?"
"The very one. Don’t make a scene; we don’t need the employees whispering."
"What are we going to do with him?" I asked, a surge of pure rage bubbling up. This man was the reason I was trapped in this ss.
"I’m firing him quietly. If he stays, he’ll only do more harm. I have to take drastic asures to protect the legacy."
"Is that wise?" I asked, a flicker of apprehension crossing my mind.
"What if he retaliates by telling everyone the engagent is a sham?"
"He won’t," Frederick said confidently. "No one will believe a disgraced board mber—provided you and Octavia keep playing your parts perfectly. I’m counting on you, Franklin. Don’t let down."
"I won’t," I said reluctantly.
"Good. I’m heading to the Upper West Side for lunch with Patricia. You and Octavia are welco to join."
"We don’t have ti. I’m heading to JeffTech this afternoon for the ga developers’ presentation. Octavia is on the team."
Frederick laughed, a sound that grated on my nerves. "Working together? Perfect. That will spark the kind of chemistry that leaves people speechless."
I frowned. It wasn’t funny. "Anyway... have a nice day. Frederick out."
The line went dead. I sat in my swivel chair and buzzed my secretary.
"Sir?"
"Clear my schedule for the afternoon. I’m heading to JeffTech. Divert all important calls to my mobile."
"Right away, sir."
I stood up and grabbed my coat. I knew what awaited at Octavia’s workplace: gossip, slander, and a thousand prying eyes. But I didn’t care. Every whispered rumor was just another layer of armor for my position. I was going to protect my legacy, even if I had to break Octavia’s spirit—and my own—to do it.
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