Chapter 32

~ Octavia ~

"I’m sorry, let me call you back," Franklin said calmly into his phone.

Seconds later, the line went dead. He set the device on his desk and looked at me.

"What do you mean you want a divorce, Octavia?"

He spoke so softly, with a touch of gentleness that almost made me believe he cared. But I knew better.

"Did I mumble, Franklin? I said I want a divorce. The two-year contract we signed—the Non-Disclosure Agreement—expires in one week. I’m giving you a heads-up now so there are no surprises. Our time is up. I expect you to abide by the rules we both agreed to."

"The contract hasn’t expired yet," he countered, his voice unnervingly warm.

He wasn’t the sadistic egomaniac I had lived with for two years; he was acting like a reasonable man, which was far more terrifying.

"Why would I want a divorce right this second?"

"Because it’s been two years of hell and I want out!" I snapped, my frown deepening.

"Not yet," he said simply. "The week isn’t up, is it?"

"I don’t care. The moment I present those papers, I expect your signature." I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.

"My inauguration..."

I paused, my back to him, my hand hovering over the door handle.

"It’s in a few days," he continued. "I’m becoming the Executive Chairman. As usual, I need you by my side. One last time."

I turned and flashed him a bitter smirk.

I didn’t even bother asking why I had to find out about his promotion from office gossip instead of my own husband.

"Fine. But know this: it will be the very last time I appear as your wife in public. Enjoy the performance while it lasts, Franklin." I stormed out of the study, my heart racing with the hope that freedom was finally within reach.

The night of the event was a masterclass in deception.

I wore a feigned smile that made my face ache, my arm stiffly wrapped around Franklin’s as we waved to the flashing bulbs of the press.

We looked like the golden couple of New York.

The master of ceremonies took the stage, his voice booming through the ballroom.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, distinguished guests, it is my honor to announce the appointment of Mr. Franklin Flemington as Executive Chairman of the Flemington Group. Franklin, your vision and leadership have brought us to this milestone. Please, join me in welcoming him."

The room exploded in applause.

As part of our wretched act, I leaned in to hug him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He grinned at me—a look of pure, manufactured triumph—before heading to the mic.

"Thank you," Franklin began, gripping the podium. "I am deeply honored. I want to thank the board for their trust... but I also want to take a moment to thank my family, especially my wife, Octavia."

All eyes turned to me. I felt the weight of a thousand envious stares.

"Octavia, you have been my rock," I could smell the lie, his voice sounding thick with emotion.

"Your unwavering support and your love have shaped me. You are my partner in every sense of the word."

The crowd swooned. To them, we were a fairytale. To me, it felt like being buried alive in gold leaf.

When he returned to his seat, he didn’t ask.

He simply leaned over and kissed me deeply on the lips. I felt the urge to recoil, to scream, but the cameras were rolling. I endured it.

On the drive back to the estate, the mask came off.

"My lawyer drafted the documents today," I said, staring out at the blurred city lights.

"What documents?" Franklin asked, his jaw clenching.

"The divorce papers."

"Are you seriously talking about divorce right now? I just became Executive Chairman. Aren’t we supposed to be celebrating?"

I looked at him in total disbelief.

"I don’t fucking care if you were just elected President of the United States. We both know I’m not the right person you want to celebrate with. Is Bella boring you that you don’t want to celebrate with her? Is that why you’re stalling to sign the divorce papers? All I want is your signature so I can be liberated. I want my life back."

Franklin went silent.

Then, his phone rang. He ignored me completely, answering the call and losing himself in business talk.

He was stalling, and for the first time, I wondered why. He used to loathe me. Why was he pretending the expiration date didn’t exist?

The week passed.

The contract officially expired, and yet, Franklin said nothing.

I stayed quiet at first, assuming he was processing the legalities privately.

But as the weeks crawled by without a word, I realized he was trying to ignore the inevitable.

I decided to force his hand. I walked into his corporate office and dropped the envelope onto his massive mahogany desk.

"The contract is over, Franklin. Sign these so we can move on."

He stood up and immediately pulled the shutters closed, plunging the office into semi-darkness.

"Why the hell would you bring this here, Octavia?" he whispered sharply. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

"Because I am tired of your silence! I want to be free, and you are the only thing standing in my way. Just let me go. I’ll disappear, I promise. Our time is up."

He glanced at his watch, his expression

turning cold and distant.

"I have a meeting in less than a minute."

"Franklin, you aren’t listening to me!" I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache blooming.

"I am listening. I’m just not in the mood for this conversation. My secretary will see you out."

He grabbed his suit jacket and walked out, leaving me standing alone in his office like a discarded shadow.

I went back to the estate and began to pack.

The staff gathered at my door, their faces filled with shock.

"Mrs. Flemington, what—" Clarence started.

"It’s Octavia now, Clarence. Just Octavia."

"Are you leaving?" Lila asked, her voice small and frightened.

"I’m leaving, Lila. Mr. Flemington and I are separating. We’re getting a divorce." I continued stuffing my clothes into suitcases, my movements frantic and determined.

Nola paced the room, let out a confused meow, and ducked under the bed.

"You mean it’s really over?" Joyce asked.

"Yes. It’s over." If Franklin wouldn’t tell them the truth, I would.

"Olga is proud of you, Octavia," Olga spoke up, her voice firm. Everyone turned to look at her.

"You are free to go."

"Olga, how can you say that?" Clarence whispered. "Mr. Flemington will—"

"Olga does not care what he says. Olga wants Octavia happy." She smiled at me and nodded.

She had been the only heart in this cold house for two years.

I finished packing and put Nola in her carrier.

I hugged the maids especially Olga, whose hug was special.

Clarence helped me carry the bags to my car, his face grim.

As I hopped into the driver’s seat, he leaned in.

"Does he know you’re leaving tonight?"

"No. But you can tell him I’m gone. Or don’t. I don’t care anymore. Goodbye, Clarence. Have a good life."

I drove out of the estate without looking back.

Moving out was the first step toward a life where I was actually wanted.

And as the gates disappeared in my rearview mirror, I finally felt like I was winning.