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 drive back from the Bronx was a blur of neon signs and crowded sidewalks, but my mind was miles away, trapped in the chilling stillness of the estate's pool deck. The conversation with Uncle Dorian played on a loop in my head, each word he spoke feeling like a drop of cold water down my spine.


The proposal was a siren song, sweet and lethal. I wanted Clinton.


 I wanted to be the reason he stayed up at night, the person he looked at with a raw, divine hunger that transcended our "brother-sister" history. I wanted a love that was a sanctuary, not a consolation prize. To have that, all I had to do was step into the darkness with Dorian Harrington.


Chapter 185 - ~ 185