Chapter 50

~ Franklin ~

I waited in the conference room, my pulse a jagged rhythm in my ears, until Octavia walked in. She moved with a chillingly professional grace, her expression so neutral it felt like a slap in the face.

"Miranda said you needed to see me?" she asked. Her tone was so detached, so corporate, that for a second I forgot we were still legally bound by a marriage certificate.

"Yes. Please, sit."

She hesitated, then took a seat across from me, the polished mahogany table between us feeling like a canyon.

"If you called me here to announce that you’re finally ready to sign the divorce papers, you can skip the formalities and just do it. You don’t need my permission to set yourself free."

"I didn’t call you here to talk about the divorce," I said, my voice tight. "In fact, I haven’t changed my mind. I’m still not signing the divorce papers."

Octavia’s brow furrowed. "Then why am I here? What are you fucking waiting for, Franklin?"

"What exactly are you doing with him?" I demanded, ignoring her question. "What is your business with Clinton?"

She let out a short, bitter laugh. "Why do you care? The last time I checked, my existence was a huge burden to you."

"I care about my reputation, Octavia. If people see my wife parading around the city with a man like that, the rumors will be catastrophic. They’ll call you a cheat."

"Then let them," she shrugged, standing up to leave. "I don’t care about your reputation anymore, Franklin. I don’t care about the Flemington name. If that’s all you wanted to say, I have work to do."

"You don’t know who he is!" I snapped, standing up as well. "You’ve started a relationship with a man you barely understand."

"Even if I don’t know every detail of his life, he’s still ten times the man you are," she said, her back to me.

"He’s my business because you happen to be my wife!"

She whirled around, her eyes blazing with a sudden, fierce anger.

"Your wife? Now I’m your wife? I’m amazed you even remember the word. A real husband doesn’t treat his wife like a ghost. He doesn’t rub his mistress in her face every chance he gets. So no, Franklin—I stopped being your wife a long time ago. I’m just a woman legally tied to a man who loves to fuck around! So do us both a favor: set me free."

I slammed my fist onto the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot.

"Watch your tone, Octavia."

"Or what? You’ll hit me? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried to break me."

"I don’t hit women and I don’t plan to," I hissed, forcing my temper into a cage. "But I’m telling you this for your own good. Clinton is bad luck."

"I’ll take my chances with him. Just stay in your lane, Franklin. And let me know when you’re ready to sign those papers—try not to waste any more of my time."

She walked out, leaving the air in the room vibrating. My rage surged, fueled by a toxic image of Clinton and Octavia together—him touching her, him kissing her. Was I really this jealous? The realization was more terrifying than the anger itself.

I returned to my own office in a haze. Anthony, my secretary, poked his head in.

"Mr. Flemington, Bella Washington came by while you were out. She seemed—"

"I don’t care," I snapped. "From now on, Anthony, if she shows up, I’m not in. Even if I’m sitting right here, I’m gone. If she tries to force her way in, call security and have her thrown out. Do you understand?"

Anthony blinked, startled by the venom in my voice. "Yes, sir. Understood."

Later that evening, the peace of the estate was shattered. I was in my study when Clarence knocked.

"Sir, Bella Washington is at the security gate. She’s demanding to see you."

I closed my eyes for a moment, an exhausted sigh escaping me. "I’ll handle it."

I walked down to the gatehouse where two guards were holding her back.

"Let her go," I commanded.

Bella immediately rushed toward me, her face flushed. "Franklin! Tell these idiots who I am! Tell them I’m your woman!"

"Stop it, Bella," I said, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the guards’ curious stares.

"Ow! You’re hurting me!" she cried.

"What do you want? I told you we were finished. I told you I never wanted to see you again."

"I know you were angry because of the phone call, baby, but you can’t still be mad," she said, her voice dropping into that familiar, manipulative purr. "You love me. You always have."

I looked at her and the spell finally broke. "I’m beginning to think I never did, Bella. I think I was infatuated. I loved the idea of you, the obsession of you...but it wasn’t love. Love requires respect, and I have none left for you."

"Don’t say that," she whispered, fear flickering in her eyes.

I recognized that fear now. It wasn’t the fear of losing me; it was the fear of losing the money I give her.

"I’m letting you go, Bella. Go back to your lover. Go sleep with whoever you want. But we are done. Permanently."

"Franklin, please... I can change! I—"

"I’m done being your ATM," I said coldly. I signaled the guards.

"Escort her to the gate. She is never to be allowed on this property again. If she sets foot past that line, you’re both fired."

"Understood, sir," the guards said, stepping forward to take her arms.

"Wait! Franklin!" Bella’s voice turned shrill, the mask of the lover discarded for the greed of the parasite. "Fine! You want me gone? Give me nine hundred million dollars and I’ll disappear! You owe me that much! Franklin! Don’t leave me with nothing, you bastard!"

Her screams faded as they dragged her toward the main road. I stood in the moonlight, feeling a strange sense of clarity. Every lie she’d told—the gambling father, the thugs, the debt—it was all a script.

She was nothing but a beautiful, hollow shell.

But as I walked back toward the dark silhouette of my mansion, my thoughts drifted back to Octavia. Bella was gone, but the war for my wife had just begun. I didn’t care who Clinton Harrington thought he was. I wasn’t losing her to him. Not without a fight.