He threw money on the bed after our one-night stand.
I threw it back in his face at his own inauguration.
By sundown, we were engaged. By the week's end — married.
Franklin Flemington needed a wife to secure his empire. I needed a miracle to save my family. For two years, we played our parts flawlessly — the golden couple the whole city envied.
Behind closed doors, I was invisible to him.
When the two years were up, I handed him divorce papers without blinking.
He stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "I've given you everything a husband should. What more do you want from me, Octavia?"
I smiled, signed my name, and walked out.
I thought that was the end. I thought I'd finally won.
I forgot one thing — Franklin Flemington has never lost anything in his life. And he has no intention of starting with me.
Game on.

On my way back to the office, the city blurred past my windows in streaks of steel and glass, but my mind was miles away from the traffic. The conversation with Bella still churned inside me like acid. I needed more answers—real ones. Without thinking twice, I dialed Miranda's number. She picked up on the second ring.


"Lawson speaking," she answered, crisp and professional.


"Miranda, hey. Are you less busy right now? There's something important I need to ask you."


"What's that?" Her tone stayed neutral, but I could hear the slightest edge beneath it.


"On the day Octavia Herman fell down the stairwell, where was Bella Washington?"


A short pause. Then her voice sharpened, though she clearly tried to keep it polite. "You're asking me because you think Miss Washington would have the effrontery to push Miss Herman down the stairs?"


"If my theories are proven correct, then yes—more than likely, she could be the one who did it," I replied evenly.


Chapter 117 - ~ 117