Chapter 182

~ Octavia ~

Leaving the Flemington Group headquarters was like walking into a storm. The lobby doors hissed open, and the world exploded into a wall of white light and deafening noise. The crowds were thick, pressing against the glass, held back only by the strained line of security guards who managed to carve a narrow path for me.

But I didn’t head for the car. Not yet.

I had spent months being the victim of headlines, the woman in the background of Franklin’s life. But as I looked at the sea of lenses and the hungry faces of reporters, I realized that silence was a luxury I could no longer afford. I stepped toward the gathered microphones, and the surge of noise was instantaneous—a cacophony of demands, the news about Dorian being the new acting CEO must have come out due to the crowd gathering.

"Mrs. Flemington! Is the company in crisis?"

"Will you be taking over as CEO?"

"Has the board officially replaced your husband?"

I stared into the center of the crowd, my expression a mask of cold composure, until the noise finally tapered off into an expectant hush. I waited a beat longer, letting the tension peak, before I spoke.

"My husband, Franklin Flemington, is missing," I began. My voice was steady, projecting with a strength I hadn’t known I possessed. "And until there is definitive evidence to the contrary, he remains the Executive Chairman of this company. While he is physically absent, I am aware that the board has held internal discussions regarding a change in leadership."

The reporters leaned in, sensing the crack in the corporate facade.

"I want to make one thing very clear," I continued, my eyes narrowing as I scanned the cameras. "I was not consulted in these decisions. I do not agree with the board’s direction. This is not merely about corporate structure; it is about integrity. It is about protecting a legacy that was built over half a century by Frederick Flemington—a legacy of blood, sweat, and unyielding loyalty."

The flashes became more frequent, a strobe light of scrutiny.

"I may not have all the answers right now," I admitted, "but I will not allow uncertainty to be used as a weapon to undermine this family. As Franklin Flemington’s wife, I will stand by his position under any and all circumstances."

A reporter from the front row shouted, "Are you saying you will challenge the board’s appointment of Dorian Harrington?"

I held his gaze, a phantom of a smile touching my lips. "I’m saying that what has happened today isn’t the end of the story. It’s the beginning of a new Chapter."

I didn’t give them another word. I turned and walked to my car, the security detail flanking me like a royal guard. Only when the door slammed shut and the tinted glass shielded me from the world did I let out the breath I’d been holding.

"Frederick? Franklin?" I whispered into the plush interior of the car.

"I won’t let you down. That’s a promise."

The atmosphere at the Flemington estate was somber, a mirror of the grief and defiance I felt. I gathered the core staff in the library and told them the outcome of the meeting. The reaction was visceral.

"We saw the press conference you hosted on the news, Mrs. Flemington," Clarence said, stepping forward with a look of profound respect. "You handled yourself with immense grace. You gave them a fight."

"The board’s timing was too perfect," Lila added, her voice sharp with anger. "They voted before you even arrived so they could present it as a done deal. They didn’t want a discussion; they wanted a coronation for Dorian Harrington."

"It’s a betrayal of everything Senior Flemington stood for," Joyce agreed.

Olga stood by the window, her back to us. When she finally turned, her eyes were red-rimmed but fierce. "Mrs. Flemington? What is the next move?"

"This is war, Olga," I told her, my voice echoing in the high-ceilinged room. "Dorian thinks he can walk in and claim an empire that doesn’t belong to him. He thinks I’m a broken girl with a head injury. He’s about to find out how wrong he is."

They all nodded, a silent pact formed in the shadows of the library. We were outnumbered and outmaneuvered, but we weren’t defeated.

That evening, the silence of my parents’ apartment felt stifling. I was in my room, the door locked, watching Nola sleep fitfully on the rug. When my phone vibrated with Clinton’s name, my first instinct was to ignore it. The memory of our last encounter—the raw, unrequited confession—was a wound that hadn’t healed. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

But I needed to know why he was calling so I answered.

"Clinton."

"Octavia," he breathed, sounding breathless and ragged. "I saw the news. The crash...the press conference. I’m so sorry. About all of it."

"Are you sorry about Franklin, or are you sorry because I’m the target of your father’s greed?" I asked, rubbing my temples.

"Both," he admitted. "My father...he’s been calculative. He waited for the perfect moment of vulnerability to strike. I can’t believe the board actually went through with it. It’s a disgrace."

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his tone shifting to that dangerous intimacy I was trying to avoid.

"No, I’m not ’fucking okay,’ Clinton," I snapped, the stress of the day finally boiling over. "How could I be? Franklin is lost in the Amazon and your father is trying to steal his life’s work."

"I’m sorry. Please, can we meet? We need to talk in person."

"I can’t," I told him firmly. "Not after the last time. Things are too complicated."

"Octavia, forget that night. You need someone to protect you, someone who knows how he thinks—"

"You can’t be that person, Clinton," I interrupted. "Have you even reached out to Annie yet? To your friend?"

There was a long, heavy pause. "What does Annie have to do with this?"

"Everything. I won’t be the reason a lifelong friendship dies. I won’t be the ’other woman’ in your life while you pine for a version of me that doesn’t exist. You need to fix what you broke with her."

"It won’t die," he insisted. "Annie is my friend, but you are—"

"The woman you love? Clinton, stop. You have to stop loving me like that. It’s destructive."

"What if I can’t stop?" The question was a whisper, raw and desperate.

I closed my eyes, a tear slipping down my cheek. "Then I will have no choice but to disappoint you. My heart is with Franklin now. It’s with the Flemingtons."

"I love you, Octavia. I don’t think that’s a switch I can just turn off."

"Then let it be the fuel for something else," I challenged. "Because this war with your father? It’s mine to fight, not yours."

"It is my war," Clinton countered, his voice suddenly hardening. "It’s my father dragging my family name through the mud to destroy yours. I won’t stand by and watch him win. I’m joining you, Octavia. Whether you want me there or not, I’m going to help you bring him down."

Before I could protest, the line went dead.

I stared at the screen, my heart racing. The battlefield was becoming more crowded by the hour. Dorian Harrington had the board, the power, and the momentum. I had a comatose grandfather, a missing husband, and a conflicted ally.

I looked at the letter I got from Franklin on my nightstand. The odds were impossible. But as I watched the moonlight filter through the window, I felt a spark of the Harrington fire—the same fire Dorian used for evil, now burning in me for justice.

The war had begun. And I was going to finish it.