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.

Another day, another Flynn presence. At this point I don't even know anymore but my gut feeling is never wrong. 


The guy was acting far too nice. His goofy, overly helpful with Octavia and the baby was nauseating. It seems like a plan and I wasn't having it. 


The only reason I actually stepped into my car and drove away for a couple of hours was Clinton. He had insisted we meet at a quiet, lounge downtown, claiming it was urgent. If it were anyone else, I would have ignored the call. 


The lounge was discreet, tucked away from the bustling city streets. It was the kind of place where people come to enjoy themselves for a few hours.


I sat across from Clinton in a secluded corner booth, I was served whiskey. I took a slow sip, letting the liquor burn a path down my throat, but it did nothing to ease the tight knot of paranoia twisting in my gut. My eyes kept darting down to my phone, monitoring whatever was happening at home.


Chapter 269 - ~ 268