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.

I tossed and turned, my eyelids fluttering open as I felt a sudden, heavy warmth enveloping me and the sharp intrusion of morning sunlight piercing through the curtains. My brow furrowed, my cheek pressing deeper into the plush velvet of the couch cushion. 


For a disorienting second, the world felt tilted and unfamiliar—then it all came rushing back in a tidal wave of memory. The dinner. The wine. The quiet, heavy conversation.


I blinked, sitting up slowly, the blanket sliding down my shoulder. I didn't remember covering myself. 


My gaze swept the living room, taking in the stillness of the morning, and then I saw him.


Clinton was across the room, seated in the same armchair from the night before. He wasn't asleep. He was perfectly still, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat.


Chapter 92 - ~ 92