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.

Two days had passed since I called Clinton, and the silence from his end felt heavier with every passing hour. I hadn't dared dial his number again. The memory of that cheerful yet edged female voice answering his phone still lingered, stirring unease in my chest. What if she picked up this time and wasn't so polite? What if she was his girlfriend—or someone close enough to him that my call had crossed an invisible line? The possibility twisted something painful inside me. Maybe I had become an unwelcome complication in his life.


Despite the quiet ache of unanswered questions, my body was steadily improving. Strength was slowly returning to my limbs, and the fog that had clouded my mind for so long was finally lifting. I sat upright in the hospital bed, fingers lightly gripping the edge of the crisp white blanket, lost in a swirl of thoughts about Clinton, Franklin, and the fragile new reality of my recovered memories.


Chapter 156 - ~ 156