He threw money on the bed after our one-night stand.
I threw it back in his face at his own inauguration.
By sundown, we were engaged. By the week's end — married.
Franklin Flemington needed a wife to secure his empire. I needed a miracle to save my family. For two years, we played our parts flawlessly — the golden couple the whole city envied.
Behind closed doors, I was invisible to him.
When the two years were up, I handed him divorce papers without blinking.
He stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "I've given you everything a husband should. What more do you want from me, Octavia?"
I smiled, signed my name, and walked out.
I thought that was the end. I thought I'd finally won.
I forgot one thing — Franklin Flemington has never lost anything in his life. And he has no intention of starting with me.
Game on.

The deed was done. I had married a man I barely knew. A man who ran hot and cold, oscillating between clinical professionalism and sharp irritation. I had sacrificed my freedom to save my family's legacy, and I could only hope my parents and Frederick were satisfied with the result.


Our return to New York after the "honeymoon" marked the true beginning of our miserable life together. I couldn't stop thinking about a moment from our wedding day. I had been wandering the guest wing when I passed Franklin's door. I'd heard him mumbling and, overcome by a sudden, sharp curiosity, I leaned in.


He was on the phone with Bella. I heard him pleading, his voice thick with a desperation he never showed me. I had walked away then, the weight of the truth settling in: I was the wife, but she was the one he craved.


At work, the atmosphere was suffocating. Colleagues called me "Mrs. Flemington," a title I begged them to swap for my maiden name.


Chapter 17 - ~ 17