Chapter 59

~ Octavia ~

I couldn’t wrap my head around the depth of the deception. Why was it that every time I let my guard down, I ended up bleeding?

My phone had been a battlefield all night.

Clinton’s name flashed on the screen incessantly; apologies flooded my inbox like a rising tide I was drowning in. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The more I thought about his words, the more they curdled in my stomach.

The next morning, I went for a jog, hoping the physical burn in my lungs would distract me from the emotional ache in my chest. It didn’t work.

By the time I got to the office, I felt like a ghost haunting my own life. All I wanted was to crawl under my covers and let the darkness take me. I had truly thought Clinton was the antithesis of Franklin.

He said he loved me, but he had used me as a weapon against the very people I was trying to leave behind.

"Woah," a voice broke through my daze.

Victoria was standing over my desk, holding two cups of coffee. "You look like you haven’t slept since the turn of the century."

She set a cup in front of me. I mumbled a thanks and took a desperate sip.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice dropping into a concerned whisper. "Is it Franklin again?"

Victoria had suspected for a while that Franklin was unfaithful, but I had never confirmed it.

She didn’t even know I’d officially moved out of the estate.

"Can we...can we not talk about it, Vic? Please."

"Octavia, I respect boundaries, but I also respect my friends enough to know when they’re drowning. Talk to me. You’ve been a shadow lately, and you’re not even wearing your rings." She pointed to my bare left hand.

I rubbed my eyes, feeling a headache blossoming behind my temples. "I don’t know anything anymore, Vic. I don’t want to dump this on you."

"That’s literally what best friends are for. Spill it. Did he cheat?"

I looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping before exhaling a long, ragged breath.

"Yes. He did."

"What the fuck?" Victoria hissed, pulling a chair up beside me. "I knew he was a dog, but I thought he’d at least have the decency to wait until the honeymoon phase was over. Who was it?"

"You already know," I said, turning back to my computer screen to hide the stinging in my eyes.

"Bella?"

I nodded, and she swore under her breath. "He’s still seeing his ex? After everything? Doesn’t it bother you that he’s sleeping with your arch-enemy while she’s working right down the hall?"

"Of course it bothers me, Vic! But what am I supposed to do? Beg him to stop? I’m done. I’ve moved out."

"Wait—you moved? Where?"

"A new place in Bradford, downtown. I didn’t go back to my old apartment because Franklin knows that address. He doesn’t know where I am now, and I want to keep it that way. If he asks you, you don’t know a thing."

"My lips are sealed," she promised, patting my hand. "I just...I just don’t want you to get hurt."

Those words—I don’t want you to get hurt—hit me like a physical blow. They were the exact words Clinton had used. I forced a pained smile.

"Thanks, Vic. I really need to get to these reports."

She got the hint and headed back to her office, leaving me in a silence that was immediately broken by my phone vibrating. Clinton. Again.

I hit ignore, but seconds later, a text popped up: "CAN WE TALK? I’M OUTSIDE YOUR OFFICE."

My heart plummeted.

My first instinct was to hide, but the anger soon overrode the fear. I marched out of the building, the midday sun blinding me as I spotted him leaning against his car. He was wearing dark aviators, looking every bit the polished man I cared about—and every bit the stranger he actually was.

"What do you want, Clinton?" I demanded, stopping a few feet away.

"Please, Octavia. We need to talk."

"There is nothing left to say. I told you I never wanted to see you again."

I turned to walk back inside, but he caught my wrist. I flinched as if his touch were acid, and he immediately let go, his hands held up in surrender.

"I’ve had sleepless nights since the gala," he said, his voice cracking. He slid his shades down just enough for me to see the dark, heavy bags under his eyes.

"I’m falling apart, Octavia. My worst fear is that you’ll hate me forever. And I can’t live with that."

"Then you should have thought about that before you used me to get to the Flemingtons," I said, my voice trembling with a mix of fury and exhaustion. "Every time I look at you now, I just see the betrayal. If you’re done, I have work to do."

I turned away, my heels clicking sharply against the pavement.

"I love you, Octavia!" he called out after me. I froze, my back still toward him. "I love you. I need you to remember that. I don’t want to be a ghost in your life. I just don’t want you to hate me."

I tilted my jaw, staring at the glass doors of my office building. I didn’t say a word. I just kept walking, leaving him standing there in the sun with the wreckage of the lies he’d told.

The elevator ride back up to my floor felt like eternity, the mirrored walls reflecting a woman I barely recognized anymore—someone hardened by secrets and weary of promises. I sat back down at my desk, but the letters on the screen blurred into a messy kaleidoscope of black and white. Every breath felt like a chore, a heavy reminder that the two men who claimed to value me most had turned my life into a game of strategic casualties.