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.

I had put the person I loved most in the hospital due to my secrecy. That was very very bad. 


I'd carried Octavia's limp body from the parking garage to my car in what felt like both a second and an eternity. Clinton had followed behind, his face pale, asking questions I couldn't answer because I was too busy panicking too.


How and when did she follow me that I did not notice?


"Is she breathing?" he kept asking. "Franklin, is she breathing?"


"Yes," I'd said, though I could barely tell through my own terror. "She's breathing. Just call the hospital. Tell them we're coming."


The drive had been a blur of red lights and my foot pressed too hard on the accelerator. I'd kept one hand on Octavia's knee, as if my touch alone could keep her tethered to consciousness, to safety, to me.


The ER had been chaos. Nurses asking questions. A doctor checking her vitals. I told them her condition too, that she was pregnant.


Chapter 223 - ~ 223