Chapter 40

~ Franklin ~

"In here. Now," my grandfather barked, his brow furrowed as he led the way to the study.

Octavia had vanished into the night only moments after her devastating confession.

I knew I had hurt her—the scars of our two-year arrangement were etched into her every word—but I hadn’t realized the depth of the wound until she laid her heart bare on the dining table.

I stepped into the study, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind me.

"Grandpa, I—"

"What the hell was that, Franklin?" he roared, turning to face me.

"What is wrong with you? You had a woman who was faithful, who cared for you, who stood by you when you were at your lowest... and you let her walk out that door without a single word of regret?"

"I already told her I wasn’t signing the papers, Grandpa," I said, my voice tight. "I’m not letting her go."

"Why?" he glared, his eyes boring into mine. "It’s not as if you love her."

"I don’t know! I just... I can’t do it."

"If you don’t love her, your refusal makes no sense. You’re confusing me, Franklin." He sank into his leather chair, looking every bit his age.

"I’m confused myself," I admitted, pacing the length of the room.

"The day she left the estate, I felt something precious inside me wither away. I can’t explain it. I know it sounds selfish, but I cannot bring myself to put pen to paper and end it."

"It sounds incredibly selfish," my grandfather noted, leaning forward.

"Now, I’m going to ask you the one thing I haven’t asked since the day I forced this engagement: Do you love Octavia? I know you claim to love the other one, but do you genuinely care for your wife?"

I turned away, staring out the window at the sprawling, dark grounds of the estate.

"I honestly don’t know, Grandpa," I mumbled.

"You should know. If you love her, you fight for her. You fix this marriage, regardless of how it started. And you forget about that Washington girl—she gives me a feeling I don’t like. Never have."

"She mentioned she met someone else," I said, the thought tasting like poison. "Who do you think it is?"

My grandfather studied my expression with a knowing glint. "Does it bother you? That she’s moving on?"

I shrugged, looking back out at the shadows. "As her husband, don’t I have the right to be curious?"

"If you love her? Yes. If you don’t? Then it’s none of your business," he said simply. "Just be careful, Franklin.

Octavia deserves to be happy. If you want to be the one to provide that happiness, you’d better find your truth before it’s too late."

...

The following evening, I drove to Bella’s apartment. She hadn’t breathed a word to me since I handed over the seven million dollars for her "thug" problem, and the silence was starting to grate on me.

When I arrived, her door was locked. She wasn’t home.

As I headed back down to the limo, I caught sight of her in the distance. She was walking toward a car, unaware I was watching.

She wasn’t alone. She was holding hands with a man—a man with a powerful, masculine physique that felt hauntingly familiar.

I watched, frozen, as she hugged him tightly before he climbed into his car and drove off.

That was my breaking point.

"Bella!" I called out, my voice like a whip.

She gasped, spinning around, her face pale until she forced a smile.

"Franklin! Baby! What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. Your door was locked, where did you go?"

"I... I went to see my mother," she stammered, her eyes darting toward the street where the car had disappeared.

The lie hit me square in the chest.

My gut twisted, and for the first time, I didn’t let my love for her blind me.

"Really? Because I just saw you holding hands and hugging a man. It looked fairly intimate for a trip to see your mother."

"Oh, him? He’s just—"

"Don’t lie to me, Bella. I saw you. Save the bullshit."

"Franklin, it’s not like that! He’s an old friend. We had lunch for old times’ sake. There are no strings attached, I promise."

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration boiling over. "He looked familiar. Wasn’t that the same man who came to your apartment two years ago because you owed him money?"

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes... that’s him."

"So, the man who was threatening you is now your ’old friend’ that you grab lunch and hold hands with? Explain that to me. Now."

"He’s just a friend I once owed money to! We moved past it. The hug... the hand-holding... it was just a friendly gesture."

"Not in that way, Bella. Friends don’t look at each other like that."

"It’s not what you think! I swear I have nothing to do with him!" 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

I felt a coldness settle over me. "If I find out you’re lying to me, Bella, we are done. Period."

I turned to walk away.

"I thought you loved me!" she cried out behind me.

I paused, looking back over my shoulder.

"Loving you doesn’t mean I’ll let you betray me."

"And what about you?" she shrieked. "You’re still legally married to that woman! You expect me to be okay with that? The contract is over—why are you still holding on? Why won’t you just divorce her?"

I didn’t have an answer for her.

Without a word, I climbed into the limo.

"Drive," I told Walter.

"Where to, sir?"

"Octavia’s office."

I needed to see her. I had gone to her old apartment the day before, only to find she had vanished without a trace. She had truly wiped herself from my map.

We pulled up near her building just as the evening shift was letting out. I waited in the back of the car, my eyes scanning the crowd.

Then, a car pulled up at the curb. A man stepped out and leaned against the door, waiting.

When Octavia finally emerged from the lobby, my hand went to the door handle to go to her—but I stopped.

She didn’t look around for me. She walked straight to the man by the car and fell into his arms.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a dull, aching jealousy blooming in my gut.

Was this the "someone else"? I watched as he gallantly opened the passenger door for her.

She hopped in, smiling, and they drove away into the New York traffic.

In a single twenty-four-hour span, the two women in my life had both dealt me a blow I wasn’t prepared for. I felt a surge of genuine hurt.

"Walter," I said, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. "Get me out of here."