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 smelling salt of oil paints, turpentine, and fresh canvas usually grounded me, but today, I was buried under a mountain of bridal magazines.


My phone buzzed against my thigh for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, and a bright, instant smile took over my face before I even saw the screen. It was Clinton.


"What about a glass pavilion thing? Gives you the outdoor garden aesthetic but shields us if the weather changes. Let me know, beautiful."


I giggled, my fingers flying across the keyboard.


"A glass pavilion sounds straight out of a fairytale. But let's focus on the color palette first! White roses are a must after the rooftop, obviously."


We had been talking about the wedding nonstop since the proposal, venue options, floral arrangements, and catering menus. I was completely glowing as an engaged woman, I couldn't stop staring at the heavy diamond ring on my finger.


Chapter 285 - ~ 284