Chapter 25
~ Octavia ~
The morning light in the estate was always too bright.
I sat at the kitchen island, my fingers wrapped around a mug of herbal tea that had long since gone cold. Lila and Joyce were busy in the laundry room, and Olga had gone to the store to get groceries. Clarence was in the hall, methodically cleaning the enlarged photos of the Flemington family—a gallery of relatives, both living and dead, staring back with frozen, judgmental eyes.
The silence of the estate was a living thing, a heavy shroud that settled over my shoulders every time Franklin left a room.
I reached for the remote and clicked on the television, purely to drown out the suffocating sound of my own thoughts.
"...breaking news this morning in the financial district," the anchor's voice cut through the stillness.
"Matthew Smith, a former prominent board member of Greenfield Energy Solutions, was taken into custody late yesterday afternoon. Sources say the arrest is linked to a massive federal investigation into embezzlement and money laundering involving offshore shell companies."
I furrowed my eyebrows with a cup of coffee in my hands. On the screen, a grainier video played—The man named Matthew Smith, his face a mask of purple-veined rage, being led into a precinct in handcuffs.
"Hmm," I said, not showing any interest in the news anymore.
I grabbed my phone on the kitchen island as I was scrolling through some news on Instagram. A particular news headline piqued my interest. It was about a lady being stalked by her ex who never got over her after the break up and immediately I read the news, I had a flashback of how paranoid I was when black SUV that had lingered three cars behind mine on the FDR Drive. The man I thought I saw standing across the street from the boutique, watching me with an intensity that made the hair on my arms stand up. I had even seen him near the park while I was walking Nola.
I had told myself I was hallucinating. I thought the stress of this sham marriage, the constant pressure of being "Mrs. Flemington," and the heartbreak of seeing Bella in our home had finally snapped my tether to reality.
I thought I was becoming paranoid.
My guts told me that it wasn't a hallucination. I was being stalked.
"You're up early."
I jumped, nearly
splashing my coffee onto my silk robe.
Franklin stood at the entrance of the kitchen, already fully dressed in a charcoal suit, looking as though he hadn't spent the last forty-eight hours in a war zone. He looked impeccable, cold, and entirely unbothered.
"Did you see this?" I asked, pointing a trembling finger at the television.
"Matthew Smith? Yeah."
Franklin glanced at the screen for a fraction of a second, his expression as flat as a stagnant pond.
"I see. Justice is rarely on time, but it usually arrives." He mumbled with a shrug.
"Since your company has partnered with a lot of companies in New York, I'm sure you know you may have partnered with the power plant company that is being announced on the news," I began.
"Can't remember, even if I partnered with the company, I'm sure it's none of your business" he said with a frown.
"I just wanted to know especially when the man embezzled and laundered money from the–"
"Can I just have a nice morning without you ruining it?" He sighed, his breath ragged.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, I'm just worried about you" I mumbled, burying my face in my cup of coffee.
Franklin reached for the coffee pot, his movements methodical and slow. He didn't look at me as usual.
"You really need to mind your business Octavia in whatever thing I do, I don't need you to worry over me, you aren't really my wife that should be frantic over the affairs I engage myself into, you are just my wife only on paper, so don't try and be worried about me again." He said, finally looking up at me.
"I got that" I flashed a smile at him then nodded.
"I saw Clarence in the hallway, cleaning the pictures. Where's the maids and Olga?" He asked, sipping his own coffee.
"Lila and Joyce are in the laundry room while Olga went to the supermarket to get groceries," I replied.
"Hmm if Olga returns from the supermarket, tell her that she should call the plumber, my heater in the bathroom is faulty and I had to shower with cold water, so tell her." He said with a voice filled with authority.
"Okay," I nodded.
He walked past me without a second glance, the scent of his expensive cologne lingering like a taunt. He didn't care.
To him, I was a line in a ledger that had just been balanced.
After he left, Olga returned fifteen minutes later and I relayed what Franklin told me to tell her and she nodded with obedience saying that she will call the plumber right away.
My workplace wasn't a sanctuary.
As head of a project I'm currently working on for the Flemington-JeffTech partnership integration, I should have felt a sense of hope. This was the road leading to my dream of being the lead developer and being promoted. But every time I walked through the glass doors of the tech wing, I felt the eyes.
The whispers followed me like a bad smell. I caught snippets of conversations that made my skin crawl.
"She only got the job because of the ring."
"The CEO's wife needs a hobby."
I was sitting at my desk, staring at a screen of code that refused to make sense, when the click of heels approached.
I looked up to see Bella.
She looked radiant in a white paint suit that screamed for attention, her auburn hair perfectly coiffed.
She didn't look like a woman who had been caught leaving a guest room with someone else' husband; she looked like she owned the building.
"Octavia, darling," she cooed, leaning against my desk. She had her usual smirk—the kind that showed exactly how helpless I was in ending her and Franklin's relationship.
"What do you want, Bella?" I asked, not looking up from my monitor.
"Oh, just checking in on the 'Game Developer,' " she said, the title dripping with mockery.
"I'm sure it's hard, isn't it? Trying to pretend you know what you're doing when we all know you're just here to keep the seat warm. It must be so lonely, sitting at this desk alone knowing fully well that even your best friend beat you to the position of Lead Developer while Franklin spends his late nights...elsewhere."
I gritted my teeth. "I have work to do, Bella. Unlike you, I actually have a contract that requires results."
"Funny you mention contracts," Bella leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a hiss.
"Franklin told me he's so relieved the Harrington situation is handled. He said it's much easier to manage one 'failing asset' at a time. I wonder which one he meant? The company... or the wife?"
She laughed, a sharp, tinkling sound that grated on my nerves.
"Don't get too comfortable here, Octavia. Mirrors crack, and secrets have a way of surfacing. Even silenced ones."
She turned and sauntered out, leaving me trembling with a mix of rage and profound sadness. I was surrounded by people, yet I had never been more alone.
Franklin was a stranger who used me as a shield, and his mistress was a ghost that haunted my every step.
I worked until the sun went down and the cleaning crews started their rounds. My head throbbed. I just wanted to go home—if I could even call the estate a home.
I gathered my things and headed to the private elevator. The garage was dim, the fluorescent lights flickering. As I walked toward my car, the sound of my heels echoed off the concrete.
Click. Click. Click.
I stopped.
Behind me, another footstep echoed. Just one.
I turned around, my heart leaping into my throat. The garage was empty, rows of luxury cars sitting like silent beasts in the dark.
"Franklin?" I called out, my voice small.
No answer.
I reached my car and fumbled with my keys, my hands shaking. Just as I unlocked the door, I saw it. Tucked under my windshield wiper was a plain white envelope.
I pulled it out, my breath hitching. Inside was a single polaroid photo. It was of me and Franklin—a photo taken from a high angle, in one of the parties we attended.
A cold chill that had nothing to do with the garage air washed over me. Could it be the stalker that has been stalking me for weeks now.
A cold chill ran down my spine, who could be watching me?
I looked at the empty shadows of the garage, and for the first time, I feel like my life is being endangered.