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.

Olga had been up to give me my morning coffee.


The coffee in my mug had gone completely cold, but I couldn't bring myself to put it down. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of my study, staring blankly. Tate's words from the night before were still looping in my mind. 


My hand trembled slightly, the ceramic rattling against my wedding ring. I set the mug down on the edge of the desk.


A cold, suffocating dread wrapped tightly around my throat. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to calculate the timeline in my head. The weeks leading up to her staged suicide, the chaotic aftermath of the trial, the bitter overlaps of our past, the math was agonizingly close. It was possible. It was entirely possible.


Chapter 227 - ~ 227