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 cool night air did little to soothe the throbbing in my face as the apartment building's security ushered us out onto the sidewalk. My pulse was still racing, a toxic cocktail of adrenaline and territorial rage. 


I pulled a silk handkerchief from my pocket and pressed it firmly against my nose, watching the white fabric turn a dark, blooming crimson.


A few feet away, Clinton was walking toward his car, his gait steady despite the blow I'd landed.


"That's right! Walk away!" I spat, my voice muffled by the handkerchief. "Stay the hell away from my wife, Harrington!"


He stopped in his tracks, his hand on the door handle of his sleek sedan. He turned back, his face illuminated by a flickering street lamp. The swelling along his jaw was already starting to distort his features.


Chapter 87 - ~ 87