Chapter 30

~ Octavia ~

The next evening, the sky finally broke.

A cold, relentless rain began to fall just as I hurried out of the office, clutching my laptop bag to my chest. I squeezed into an elevator crowded with people, but I felt entirely alone.

Franklin’s words echoed in my head like a cruel chant: Crazy. Paranoid.

To him, I was nothing more than a worthless nuisance he needed to get rid of at any cost.

Once I reached the underground parking lot, I fumbled with my keys, my hands shaking.

The moment the locks clicked open, I scrambled inside and bolted the doors, letting out a jagged sigh of relief.

As I pulled out of the garage and onto the rain-slicked streets, I kept my eyes glued to the rearview mirror.

For over ten minutes, there was nothing but the usual blur of yellow cabs and city buses.

I breathed again, slower this time. Was Franklin right? Was I really just taking it too far? Could this all be some fever dream brought on by work stress?

I almost believed it—until I saw it. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

A silver sedan slid out from a side street, maintaining a perfect, three-car distance behind me.

Its headlights were piercing, and I felt a cold knot of dread tighten in my stomach.

That car was following me. I turned left; it turned left. I took a sudden, sharp right, my tires screeching against the wet asphalt. The vehicle followed with terrifying precision.

"Please, no," I whispered, clutching the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.

I slammed my foot onto the pedal to accelerate, desperate to lose him, but the sedan mirrored me, accelerating just as fast.

I came to a jarring halt at a red light, panting heavily.

I stared at the light, praying for it to turn green, when a sharp tap-tap-tap on my window made me jump so hard I nearly screamed.

I stared out the glass, but the heavy rain and the darkness made it impossible to see clearly.

Every instinct told me to drive off, but a twisted sense of curiosity took hold. I reluctantly rolled the window down halfway.

A man in a bright yellow raincoat was standing there, smiling at me.

"Yes?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Ma’am, are you okay?" he asked over the roar of the storm.

"Yes. Why did you tap on my window?" I kept my eyes on the traffic light. Come on, come on...

"Just wanted to make sure you were alright. You almost missed the stop sign," he said, gesturing to the light.

"Good thing I didn’t," I snapped.

"Yes, good thing," he said, his grin widening into something unnatural and predatory.

"Anyway, just wanted to check if everything is okay, ma’am."

The light finally turned green. "Everything is fine. Thank you," I said, quickly rolling up the window and driving off.

I didn’t head straight for the estate. Instead, I pulled into a concealed alleyway and turned off my lights, watching.

The man, thinking I had gone, walked casually back toward the line of cars. I watched through the rain as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the silver sedan—the same car that had been trailing me all night.

My mouth fell open.

My heart stopped. He was the stalker. It was him.

I waited until he had driven far out of sight before I started my engine again.

My fingers were trembling so violently I could barely grip the wheel.

It wasn’t just cold; I was shaken to my core.

I could have been killed tonight, and no one would have known why.

When I finally arrived at the estate, I expected silence.

Instead, I found my parents in the living room, with Franklin playing the role of the perfect, attentive son-in-law.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked, dropping my bag.

"Franklin invited us for dinner, dear," my dad said, pausing as he shared a look with my mother.

"He also wanted to talk to us about..."

"Your recent behavior," my mother finished.

"My recent behavior?" I scoffed, turning a lethal glare toward Franklin.

"What have you been fucking telling my parents, Franklin?"

"You need to calm down, Octavia. You aren’t helping matters by acting this way," he said, his voice smooth and condescending.

"Acting what fucking way? You had no right to invite my parents here just to gossip about my mental state!" I yelled.

"See what I’m talking about?" Franklin said to my parents, gesturing toward me as if I were a malfunctioning machine.

They both nodded, their faces full of pity.

"Octavia, sweetheart... we’re just trying to help," my mom said.

"Franklin told us how worked up you’ve been due to stress. We get it.

You need to take a break and just—"

"You could have asked me what was going on before you believed the fucking words coming out of his mouth!" I shouted.

"Did Franklin tell you that someone is watching me? That a man is following my every fucking move? I told him yesterday, but he claims it’s stress. I’m not crazy! I’m being stalked!"

My parents shared another long, silent look.

"Octavia, darling, look—" my mom began.

I backed away, my heart breaking.

"You don’t fucking believe me, do you?" A tear slipped down my face.

I looked at them, searching for a spark of maternal or paternal instinct, but I found nothing.

"Octavia—" my dad started, but I was done listening.

"No. I get it now. You believe Franklin because he’s the one paying the company debts. You can’t argue with your helper, right? That’s what this is." I let out a pained, bitter laugh.

"If that’s how it is, then you both should stay the fuck away from me! I mean it!"

I turned and ran upstairs, ignoring their voices calling after me. When I reached my bedroom, I slammed the door and sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

There was no point in telling them what happened tonight. They had already decided I was insane.

Nola scurried toward me, purring and rubbing against my leg.

"Not now, Nola," I whispered, pushing her away. The cat scurried under the bed, startled.

My parents didn’t even come up to check on me. They had chosen money over their own daughter.

They were gold diggers, and in that moment, I hated them more than I hated Franklin.

"Mrs. Flemington?"

It was Olga’s voice from the other side of the door.

"Go away, Olga. I’m not in the mood."

"Olga wants to know if Mrs. Flemington okay. Mrs. Flemington sad," she insisted.

"I just need a moment alone, Olga. I’ll be fine."

"Olga doesn’t believe Mrs. Flemington. Mrs. Flemington is lying," she said softly.

"I’m just tired, Olga," I choked out through the tears.

"If love hurts this much, I don’t want it anymore. I surrender. I just want to fast-forward to the divorce. I want out."

"Olga sorry, Mrs. Flemington. Olga feels your pain."

I stood up and slowly unlocked the door.

Olga stood there, her face full of a kindness I hadn’t seen in years.

Without a word, she stepped forward and pulled me into a hug.

It was a warm, motherly embrace—something my own mother hadn’t given me in a lifetime.

I broke into fresh tears against her shoulder. Olga didn’t say a word; she just patted my back and whispered soothing words in Russian.

For the first time in my life, I felt truly loved and wanted. And for the first time, I felt like someone finally believed me.