Chapter 21
~ Octavia ~
I didn’t go back to the party. I couldn’t. Every ti I closed my eyes, the ghost of that image played on the back of my eyelids like a grotesque film reel: Franklin and Bella, caught in a state of indecent, feverish passion. It wasn’t just the betrayal that burned; it was the ease of it.
The way they looked together, they looked...natural, frantic, and real while every second of my life with him was a choreographed performance.
My spirit felt as though it had been put through a paper shredder. I wanted to howl, to break the expensive crystal vases lining the hallway, to scream until the Hamptons’ elite heard the truth.
Instead, I stood on the darkened terrace of Frederick’s vacation ho, the cold Atlantic wind whipping my hair into a tangled ss. I had wept until my throat was raw, but now, the tears had dried into a salty crust.
Then, I heard the soft, heavy slide of the glass door. I didn’t need to turn around. The atmosphere changed instantly, saturated with the scent of expensive, peaty scotch and the lingering, nauseating trail of Bella’s floral perfu. It was a scent that now slled like rot to .
"Hey. We need to talk," I heard Franklin say.
His voice was stripped of the arrogant, predatory snarl I’d heard in the guest room. Now, it was tight, vibrating with a frantic edge of panic he was trying to suppress.
"Do we?" I asked. I kept my back to him, staring out at the black horizon where the sea t the sky.
"I thought the scene in the guest room was pretty self-explanatory, Franklin. You made your choice. You made it loud, clear, and perfectly unfaithful. I have nothing left to say to you."
"This isn’t about that," he snapped, his patience fraying. "Turn around, Octavia."
I turned my expression into a mask of frozen indifference. He looked disheveled—his tuxedo shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his hair was mussed, a physical reminder of what he had just been doing.
"Rember that man?" he began, pacing the small width of the terrace. "The one who strode into the office at the Flemington Tower the day my grandfather announced the engagent? Mr Harrington?"
"Yeah? So?" I asked, my voice dripping with a nonchalance I didn’t truly feel.
"He called my grandfather tonight. He’s blackmailing us, Octavia." Franklin stopped pacing and fixed with a desperate, piercing stare.
"He’s been watching us. He’s threatening to go to the board and the press with proof that our marriage is a fraud. If that happens, the Flemington na is mud. My grandfather and I are dood. Everything we’ve built gone"
A hollow laugh escaped my lips. "So, let get this straight. If the truth cos out, the big, bad Flemington empire collapses? Does that an my parents’ company goes back to being bankrupt? Is that the threat here?"
Franklin’s face contorted with rage. "Stop acting so damn selfish! All you’re thinking about is your parents’ little legacy? What about mine? What about the thousands of employees and the billions in assets? We have to think about the company first! If the board strips of my CEO position, the banks will pull the Flemington guarantee on your parents’ debt faster than you can blink. Do you understand what that ans? You, , your parents, and your precious family na—we all go down in flas. I’m sure you don’t want that."
He spoke to in that sa icy, condescending tone he always used, as if I were a slow-witted child who didn’t understand the stakes of the ga. I looked at him, and felt a wave of disgust. He was standing there, still slling of the woman he’d just bedded, demanding that I save his skin.
"Let get this perfectly straight, Franklin," I said, my voice low and lethal. I stepped toward him, ignoring the way he flinched.
"You were literally inside that guest room, fucking another woman, re minutes ago. And now you’re standing here, lecturing on selfishness? You’re telling all this to do what, exactly? Because I don’t see a husband here. I see a cornered rat."
"I need you to make this marriage look real," he hissed, his voice a low growl of desperation. "More real than it has ever been. Harrington is a bloodhound. I can’t imagine losing my position because you decided to have a moral crisis now. If you do this—if you play the part perfectly until this blow over—I will officially and imdiately clear every cent of debt your parents’ company owes. No more installnts. Total liquidation of the debt."
It was a bribe. A cold, hard bribe for my soul. He wanted to buy my complicity so he could keep his throne and, presumably, keep seeing Bella. The thought was a hot needle in my chest.
"He’s asking for millions," Franklin continued, looking away at the sea. "And my guess is that even if we pay him, he might still talk. He needs more than money. He needs convincing. He needs to see us and believe we are inseparable."
"I see," I said.
"You see? What the hell does that an?" He frowned, his eyes searching mine for a crack in the ice.
"Look at you, Franklin," I said, a slow, bitter smile spreading across my face.
"You’re shaking. I can sll the desperation coming off you in waves. It’s pathetic, really. The great Franklin Flemington, reduced to begging the wife he despises to save his reputation."
"I don’t care how you see !" he leered, stepping back. "I just care about the board. I care about not being overthrown."
"I signed your contract, didn’t I? I played the role of the doting, loving wife to the letter. But you? Your performance as a ’husband’ is stiff, Franklin. It’s robotic. Maybe you should work on your own acting skills so Harrington doesn’t notice how fake this all is. Maybe if you spent less ti in guest rooms and more ti learning how to be a human being, then maybe I can consider it."
I swept past him, my dress rustling against the floor. I felt him staring at my back, but I didn’t stop. I was the pathetic one for loving him, but tonight, he had shown that he was the one truly at the rcy of the world.
The ride back to the estate was a long, suffocating silence.
Once we arrived, I retreated to my bedroom. I stripped off the midnight-blue gown that now felt like a shroud and pulled on my softest blue pajamas. I reached for Nola, my cat, and pulled her into my arms. Her warmth and her steady, vibrating purr were the only honest things in this house.
I sat on the edge of the bed and finally, I let the tears flow. They weren’t the quiet, ladylike tears of a movie heroine.
They were jagged, ugly sobs of a woman who was mourning a life she would never have. The image of them together was a permanent scar on my mind. I was mad at Franklin, yes, but I was furious with myself. How could I have feelings for a man who wouldn’t look at with love for even a second? A man who saw as a strategic asset, a line of code in a business plan?
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and looked at Nola.
Feeling the weight of the walls closing in, I grabbed my phone. I needed a voice that didn’t sound like a contract. I called Victoria. She picked up on the second ring.
"Octavia?" she answered, her voice thick with sleep.
"Hey, Vic," I said, trying to steady my breathing.
"Hey...it’s heading to midnight, and I was just drifting off. It’s strange for you to call this late. Is everything okay? Did sothing happen at the party?"
I told her about Fredrick’s birthday party.
The truth was right there, clawing at my throat. He cheated on . He’s being blackmailed. My life is a sham. But if I told her, it beca real. If I told her, the Flemington guarantee might vanish, and my parents would be on the street.
"Yes, everything is fine," I lied. The words felt like lead in my mouth. "I just...I couldn’t sleep."
"Are you sure? You sound...weird. Is Franklin taking care of you well? Is the ’newlywed bliss’ wearing off already?"
I forced a small, painful laugh. "Ah, well... he is. He’s taking care of everything. It’s just that he barely has ti for us to actually hang out. He’s always so busy with work. The CEO’s life, you know?"
"No matter how busy he is, Octavia, he should create ti for his wife," Victoria said, her tone softening with concern.
"Marriage isn’t just about sharing a last na; it’s about sharing ti."
"That’s true. He knows that. We’re working on it." I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see . Nola purred louder, rubbing her head against my chin.
"Well, make sure he stays true to his word," she said. "Don’t let him hide behind his desk forever."
"He will. Don’t worry about . I actually called to hear how you were. How is the new job? Now that you’re the Lead Developer, are you going to rule the office with an iron fist?"
Victoria chuckled, and the sound ward .
"Oh, it’s hectic, Octavia. Truly. The eting I had with the board the other day was intense, but good. And the new project for the integration is finally taking shape..."
She trailed off into technical talk, and for a few minutes, I just listened. I let her voice wash over , a reminder of the world I used to belong to — a world of logic, hard work, and earned success. I was so proud of her. She had gotten the promotion I wanted, but seeing her happy was the only light I had left.
"I’m so proud of you, Vic," I whispered. "You deserve all of it."
"I know. Thank you, Octavia. That ans a lot coming from you."
"Of course. Anyway, I’ll let you go. Duty calls tomorrow, right?"
"Right. Get so sleep, okay? I love you!"
"I love you too.
Goodnight."
The call ended, and the silence of the room felt ten tis heavier than before. I looked down at Nola, who was now contentedly licking her paws.
"This isn’t the life I wanted for myself, Nola," I whispered into the dark. "I’m fulfilled on paper and empty in reality. I’m married to a billionaire, and I’ve never been poorer."
I let out a small, sarcastic laugh that turned into a shiver. I laid my head on the pillow, and closed my eyes and prayed for sleep, hoping that when I woke up, this nightmare would have dissolved into the morning light. But I knew better. In the world of the Flemingtons, the nightmares only got more vivid when the sun ca up.
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