Chapter 66

~ Franklin ~

I tossed and turned until the sheets were a tangled mess.

Sleep was a ghost I couldn’t catch. Every time I drifted off, Octavia’s face appeared—not the smiling woman from the orphanage, but the girl with the jagged, angry eyes from the restaurant.

I sat up, raking my hands through my hair, and grabbed my phone. 1:55 AM. The house was silent, but my mind was screaming. I couldn’t wait until morning. I dialed Anthony.

"Hello?" he answered, his voice thick with sleep.

"Anthony. I need a formal invitation sent to the JeffTech executive team immediately. It’s a mandatory strategic retreat for both companies.

Professional tone, high stakes. We’re heading to the Lakeshore Resort on Long Island this weekend. Everyone attends—no exceptions, especially not Octavia."

"I... I understand, sir. I’ll draft it first thing in the morning—"

"No," I cut him off, my voice cold and firm. "I need it in their inboxes before dawn. I want them waking up to this news."

"Right away, sir."

By the time I reached the JeffTech offices the next day, the trap was set. I walked into their boardroom not as a husband, but as the majority partner.

"This retreat is about alignment," I explained to the room, ignoring the skeptical glances.

"We are building a joint AI innovation roadmap. It’s the foundation of our future growth, and I need every key mind in this room focused and present."

There were whispers, a few nods of agreement, but Octavia just sat there. She caught my eye, shook her head slowly, and let out a long, weary sigh. I simply shrugged and offered a small, infuriating smile before turning to talk to Miranda, their team leader.

Before leaving, I called my grandfather. "The pieces are moving, Grandpa. I’m taking her to Long Island."

"Good. Don’t waste the opportunity, Franklin," he urged.

"Push through the pride. Tell her the truth about your feelings for her."

"I will try," I whispered. "I just hope it’s enough."

Saturday morning arrived with a crisp spring breeze. The winter chill had finally retreated, leaving the air fresh and full of the scent of damp earth—perfect for a "rebranding" of my image. I traded my suit for a dark t-shirt, denim jeans, and sneakers.

Walter pulled the limo up to the JeffTech building where the team was already gathered. I had chartered a luxury coach for the staff, and they were buzzing with excitement, dressed in casual weekend wear.

Octavia stood among them, looking effortlessly stunning in her casual clothes, though her expression was anything but relaxed.

"Good morning, everyone," I said, stepping out of the limo.

"Good morning, Mr. Flemington!" they chorused.

I scanned the group, my eyes landing on Octavia. Her head was down, her fingers white-knuckled around the handle of her suitcase. She refused to look at me.

"Your ride is right there," I said, gesturing to the sleek bus. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. We have a long drive ahead."

As the team began to scramble onto the bus, chatting and laughing, Octavia moved to follow them. I reached out, my fingers encircling her wrist.

"Where do you think you’re going?" I asked.

She frowned, pulling her hand back and clutching her bag like a shield. "Joining my team on the bus, obviously."

"No, you aren’t."

"Why not?" she snapped, her eyes flashing.

"Everyone on that bus knows we’re married, Octavia. They would expect us to ride in the limo, So for the sake of the partnership, you’re riding with me."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," she scoffed, trying to sidestep me.

"Octavia," I said, my voice dropping to a low, commanding whisper as I took her suitcase from her hand. "Don’t make a scene in front of your employees. Get in the car, now."

She looked at the bus, then back at me, her chest heaving with an annoyed breath. "Fine," she hissed. "I’ll get in the damn car."

She marched to the limo, her heels clicking aggressively on the pavement. Walter held the door, and she slid inside without a word.

"Put this in the trunk," I told Walter, handing over her bag.

When I climbed in beside her, the atmosphere was suffocating. Octavia had pressed herself against the far corner of the seat, her face glued to the window.

She stared out at the passing city, treating me as if I were invisible.

I leaned back, watching the side of her face. This was going to be much harder than I thought.

As the limo pulled away and hit the highway, I stared at the partition, my mind racing for a way to break the silence—and eventually, her heart.

The hum of the tires against the asphalt was the only sound in the plush cabin, a rhythmic vibration that seemed to amplify the wall of ice she had built between us. I watched the reflection of her eyes in the glass; they were fixed on the horizon, searching for an escape that didn’t exist. To her, this was a kidnapping disguised as a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding of a wound I had inflicted on myself. I tried to imagine what she was thinking—probably calculating the minutes until she could get away from me, or perhaps rehearsing the ways she would tell me to go to hell once we reached the resort.

"The weather looks promising for the outdoor sessions," I said, my voice sounding foreign in the cramped space. She didn’t blink. Not a muscle in her jaw moved. The rejection was a physical weight, heavier than the guilt that usually sat in my stomach. I realized then that I had spent years demanding her attention as a right, never understanding that it was a privilege I had long since squandered.

Every mile we traveled toward the coast felt like a step further into uncharted territory. I wasn’t just fighting for a partnership anymore; I was fighting to prove that the man who had ignored her was dead, replaced by someone who finally understood what he had lost.