Chapter 52

~ Clinton ~

"Fuck! I messed up. I messed up big time," I growled, slamming my palm against the steering wheel as I tore down the highway away from Octavia’s apartment. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The words I’d spoken to her replayed in my head like a car crash in slow motion. "I’m falling in love with you, Octavia..." Why couldn’t I have just kept my mouth shut? She was still married. She was still healing. By confessing now, I hadn’t just been forward; I’d been reckless. I’d made things awkward, and in my world, awkward was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

My phone buzzed in the console. Dad.

"I’m on my way," I said the moment I picked up, my voice tight.

"You were supposed to be here an hour ago, Clinton. Don’t keep me waiting." He didn’t wait for a reply before hanging up.

I exhaled a jagged breath and pressed my foot harder onto the accelerator. The speedometer climbed, matching the frantic pace of my heart. I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep playing the role of the devoted son in a revenge plot when my soul was tied to the target’s wife. If Octavia ever found out that I had approached her as a pawn—that our entire "chance" meeting was a calculated move—she would never look at me again.

I made a choice right then, somewhere between the city lights and the Harrington estate. I was out. I would protect Octavia, even if I had to protect her from my own blood.

The estate felt colder than usual as I walked through the front doors.

Trudy met me in the hall, her face etched with a silent, maternal worry. "Your father is in his study, Master Clinton."

I nodded and headed upstairs. When I entered the study, my father was leaned over a map on his desk, his eyes dark with obsession.

"Please tell me you have it," he said without looking up. "The piece of the puzzle to bring the Flemingtons to their knees."

"Dad, I need to talk to you."

He finally looked up, his brow furrowing. "You have something, don’t you? A lead? A weakness?"

"No," I said, standing my ground. "I don’t. But I do have something important to tell you."

"Important? But not vital to the plan?" He straightened up, his face hardening into a mask of disappointment. "Fine. I’m all ears. What is so important?"

"I’m done, Dad. I’m not helping you with this plan anymore."

The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush the air out of the room Dorian’s eyes narrowed until they were nothing but predatory slits. "Don’t play games with me, Clinton. Not today."

"I’m not playing. I’ve thought about it, and I can’t do this anymore. I’m quitting."

"Why?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous hiss.

"Because I’m tired of living in your shadows! You’re holding onto a grudge that’s older than I am, Dad. Can’t you see? This isn’t justice; it’s a cage. You’re letting these four walls consume you. You could be happy. You could be free. But you’d rather stay here and rot in your own hatred. I won’t be a part of it anymore."

My father stared at me for a heartbeat, and then he began to laugh.

It wasn’t a laugh of amusement—it was a jagged, horrifying sound that turned his face a violent shade of red.

"You really are a coward," he spat, the laughter dying instantly. "You’ve always been a weakling, Clinton. You took that spineless streak from your mother. I had faith in you. I wanted to believe a part of me lived inside you, but you’ve just proven you’re worthless to me."

His words cut deep, a lifetime of seeking his approval crumbling in seconds. I bowed my head, unable to look into the furnace of his rage.

"I’m sorry you feel that way, I’ve decided to leave because staying here would be a lie. I’m leaving, Dad. I don’t want to be the constant reminder of my own betrayal."

"Then fucking leave!" My father roared, his fist slamming onto the mahogany desk with a force that made the pens jump. "Get out of my sight! And don’t you dare think about coming back. You are no longer a Harrington in my eyes. Get out!"

"I’m sorry I failed you," I whispered, my hand trembling as it touched the doorknob.

"Goodbye, Dad. I wish you...I wish you peace."

He turned his back on me. I didn’t wait for him to change his mind.

I scrambled into my bedroom and threw my life into a single suitcase. My hands were shaking, but my mind was clearer than it had been in years.

On my way down the stairs, I ran into Trudy.

She was carrying a silver tray with tea for my Dad, her eyes wide as she saw the suitcase in my hand. "Master Clinton? Where are you going with the suitcase?"

"I’m leaving the estate, Trudy."

"But...why? What happened?"

"It’s a long story. But listen, I need you to do me a favor. Watch over him? He’s going to be alone, and I don’t want him to sink further into that darkness. Start hiring more staff—make this place feel like a home again. I’ll pay for everything. I’ll wire you the money for their checks, for the house, for whatever you need. Just promise me you’ll stay."

"I promise," she said, her voice cracking.

I reached out and hugged her, a one-armed squeeze as she balanced the tray.

"It was good to see you again. Truly."

"Are you leaving the city?" she asked, her eyes brimming with tears.

"No. I’ll be around. I’ll stay in a hotel tonight, find an apartment tomorrow. We’ll keep in touch. I promise."

I walked out the front doors without looking back. I threw my suitcase into the trunk of my car and turned the engine over.

As I pulled down the long, winding driveway, I glanced at the rearview mirror.

There, on the high balcony of the study, was a lone silhouette. My father. He stood perfectly still, watching me drive away until I disappeared past the gates and out of his life.

I was officially homeless, disowned, and alone—but as I hit the open road toward the city, for the first time in my life, I felt like I could finally breathe.