Chapter 37
~ Franklin ~
I was back in my office, pacing the length of the floor like a caged animal.
I dialed her number again, only to be t with that sa chanical, heartless recording.
"The number you are trying to reach is not available..."
"Fuck!" I growled, slamming my phone onto the mahogany desk.
I walked to the window and stared out at the New York skyline, my hands shoved deep into my suit pockets.
She had actually blocked . Octavia had cut off entirely because of this divorce.
Why couldn’t she have waited for to file the papers? I was the one who drafted the contract; I was the one who set the terms.
Why did she suddenly have the upper hand?
"Mr. Flemington?"
My secretary’s voice snapped back to reality. I turned and leveled a glare at him.
"What is it, Anthony?"
"The partners you were supposed to et with ten minutes ago are still waiting in the conference room, sir," he said, shifting uncomfortably.
I frowned. "I have a eting now? Why wasn’t I inford?"
"I told you this morning, sir. Right as we stepped off the elevator. It’s been on the schedule for weeks."
"You didn’t tell anything, Anthony. If you had, I would have been there."
"But sir—"
I held up a hand to silence him. "Next ti I have a high-stakes eting, you ensure I am reminded beforehand. Am I making myself clear?"
"Yes, Mr. Flemington... my apologies."
"Tell them I’ll be there in a minute," I snapped.
He nodded obediently and scurried out. I grabbed my suit jacket from my swivel chair, adjusted my cuffs, and headed for the door.
An hour later, I returned to my office, the eting a blur.
My mind kept drifting back to Octavia. Why the abrupt flight? How dare she just walk out?
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. "Mr. Flemington," Anthony said, poking his head in. "The Chairman is here to see you."
Before I could answer, my grandfather pushed past him.
"Grandpa? I wasn’t expecting you today," I said, surprised. I signaled for Anthony to leave.
"I know. Sit down," he commanded. We both took our seats, and the room felt smaller under his gaze.
"What brings you here? Is everything alright?" I asked.
"So, I can’t co to my own company to see my grandson without an appointnt?" he teased, though his eyes remained sharp.
"Of course you can. Anyti."
"Good," he said, leaning back.
"You know I’ve been away on business, but now that I’m back, I’ve heard so disturbing news from the staff. They say Octavia has left the estate."
"She did," I said, trying to sound indifferent.
"Why?"
I blinked at him.
"Because our two years are up. The marriage served its purpose. Did you expect an extension?"
"As a matter of fact, Franklin, yes." He leveled a finger at .
"In the ti she lived under my roof, I observed her. Octavia is quiet, respectful, and brilliant. She is ten tis the woman that... what is that riffraff’s na again? Beatrice?"
"It’s Bella. And no, Octavia isn’t better than Bella, Grandpa. It’s for the best that Octavia is gone." I said the words, but they felt heavy and dishonest in my mouth.
"No, it isn’t. You need to give her a second chance."
"That isn’t your decision to make," I sighed.
"As long as I am the head of this family, it most certainly is." He stood up and walked over to my desk.
"You will call her. You will invite her to dinner and convince her to return to the estate. Do I make myself clear?"
"I can’t do that. You know I can’t, Grandpa." I turned my chair away from him.
"Why? Because your pride is too big to fit through the door?"
"No. Because I don’t want to," I mumbled.
"Hmm." My grandfather paused at the door. "Fine. If you want to be stubborn, so be it. But mark my words, Franklin—I won’t lose a woman of that caliber to your ego."
...
At lunchti, Bella called. It was a surprise, given how rarely she reached out lately, but I welcod the distraction.
We t at a quiet restaurant a few blocks from the office, tucked away from prying eyes.
"I’m being threatened, Franklin," she started, her voice trembling.
I leaned forward, concerned. "Threatened? By whom?"
"The people I owe money to," she whispered, twisting the hem of the white tablecloth.
"I thought I cleared your debts months ago, Bell. What happened?"
"It’s not him this ti...I owe soone else, well soone my father is owing," she said, her eyes welling with tears.
"If I don’t get the money within twenty-four hours, my mother’s’ life is on the line."
"Your mother? Bella, slow down. Tell exactly what’s going on."
"My father... he has a gambling addiction I was too ashad to tell you about. He owed money to so very dangerous people. The deadline passed, and they ca to the house this morning. They destroyed everything, Franklin. My mother’s sewing machine, her laptop, her garden... they even smashed my dad’s car. My mom called sobbing. They told her if they don’t have the cash by tomorrow, they’re taking her as collateral. And my father has gone AWOL. No one can find him."
She began to sob, and I imdiately moved to her side of the booth to pull her into a hug.
"Nothing is going to happen to your mother, Bell. I’ll take care of it.
I’ll pay the debt and cover the damages to the house."
She looked up at , gasping for air. "Thank you... thank you so much, Franklin."
"How much does he owe them?"
"Seven million dollars," she said quickly.
"Seven million? That’s quite a debt for a gambler."
"I know, but if it isn’t paid..." She trailed off, looking down at her lap.
"I’m terrified for her."
"Don’t worry. I’m wiring the money to your account right now."
I pulled out my phone and completed the transfer. "It’s done, Bell. Check your phone."
Within seconds, she saw the notification and leaped with joy, her tears vanishing instantly.
"Thank you, baby! I really appreciate it!"
I watched her for a mont. The transition from hysterical sobbing to pure elation was... abrupt. It felt off, but I shook the thought away.
She grabbed her bag and stood up.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To my parents’ house! I have to tell my mom we have the money so she can call them."
"I’ll drop you off," I offered, standing with her.
"No! Don’t do that!" she said, her voice rising in a way that made flinch.
"I an... you’ve done enough. I don’t want to take up any more of your afternoon."
"I don’t mind, Bell—"
"I do! Please... I’ll be fine on my own." She leaned in and gave a quick, blunt peck on the cheek.
It was a cold gesture, especially after I’d just handed over seven million dollars.
I watched her scurry away toward the exit as if she were being chased.
"Hmm," I muttered to myself, scratching my chin. "She didn’t even say ’I love you.’ "
I signaled the waiter for the check, a strange, hollow feeling settling in my gut that had nothing to do with hunger.
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