Chapter 194

~ Octavia ~ 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

I directed Walter to Jovita’s, a quiet, upscale haunt nestled in a corner of the city that felt worlds away from the glass-and-steel chaos of the Flemington Group. It was Clinton’s favorite restaurant—the kind of place where the tables were spaced for privacy and the lighting was designed to soften even the hardest truths. I understood why he chose it. It was a place for things that mattered.

My fingers tightened around my black clutch as I stepped inside. My eyes scanned the room, bypassing the lunchtime crowd until they landed on him. Clinton was seated in a far corner, his posture uncharacteristically stiff. His expression was a mask of unreadable glass until his eyes found mine. The last time we had been face-to-face was the night of his birthday—a night that ended in shattered expectations and bitter silences.

He stood as I approached. His gaze flickered briefly past my shoulder, landing on Locke and Holt. My new shadows had already taken their positions just inside the doorway, silent and immovable.

Clinton’s eyebrows pulled together, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face. "Hey, Octavia," he said as he stepped forward to pull me into a brief, cautious hug. "You brought security?"

He tilted his jaw toward the bodyguards as we pulled apart. It was the first time he had seen me protected by anyone other than himself or Franklin.

I pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. "Yes," I said, my voice calm but firm.

His eyes lingered on the men for another heartbeat before returning to me. "Well...that’s new."

"A lot of things are new, Clinton. The world feels a lot smaller than it did last week."

That seemed to settle the unspoken question. He sat back down slowly, the air between us thick with the weight of everything we hadn’t said. For a moment, we simply stared at each other, two people who had once shared every secret now acting like polite strangers.

"You said it was important on the phone," I prompted, breaking the silence.

"It is." Clinton leaned forward, lowering his voice until it was a resonant hum. "I’ve been looking into the crash, Octavia. I’ve been using every contact I have in aviation and logistics to track the final minutes of Franklin’s flight."

My heart skipped a beat. "And?"

"I don’t think it was an accident," he said, his jaw tightening.

The words landed like lead. Even though I had suspected it—even though I had seen the files on the flash drive—hearing it from Clinton made the reality feel visceral.

"Why? What did you find?" I whispered.

Clinton exhaled slowly, glancing down at his intertwined fingers before meeting my gaze again. "Too many things don’t add up. The timing of the signal loss, the specific route change requested by the cockpit...it wasn’t weather-related. It was a deliberate deviation into a dead zone."

My chest tightened until it was hard to breathe. "Go on."

"I think it was sabotage," he said, the word hanging between us like a death sentence. "And I believe my father is the one who signed the order."

Everything inside me went still. The storm that had been brewing since the warehouse meeting suddenly hit full force. "Dorian?"

Clinton nodded grimly. "I don’t have the paper trail yet—he’s too careful for that. But I know how he thinks. I know how he operates when he wants someone out of the way. Franklin was the only person standing between him and total control of the empire. This fits his pattern perfectly."

My fingers curled into claws beneath the table. The sheer coldness of it—a father willing to kill his ward, his "nephew," just for a seat at a desk.

"You deserved to know," Clinton continued, his voice softening. "I told you I wanted to help, and if that means exposing the man who shares my blood, then so be it. I’m done, Octavia. I’m totally done with his games and his legacy."

"Done with everything?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I’m tired of chasing something that was never mine to begin with." He let out a quiet, weary breath. "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since the night of my birthday. About you...and me. I kept telling myself that if I stayed long enough, if I was just there when you needed someone... you would eventually choose me."

His voice faltered, the honesty in his eyes hitting deeper than any of his warnings about Dorian. "But I know you won’t. I know you’re in love with Franklin, even now. Especially now."

He paused, a sad, resigned smile touching his lips. "I had this silly thought that if he was gone, I could step in. It was selfish. It doesn’t work like that. You aren’t a prize to be won, and you’re still his wife. You always will be."

"Clinton—"

"I’m not saying it to hurt you," he interrupted gently. "I’m saying it because I finally understand. I can never truly have a place in your heart while I’m still trying to be the man Franklin is. I need to be my own man."

He looked down at the table, then back up, his eyes clearer than I had seen them in months. "I’m letting you go, Octavia. Not because I don’t care, but because I have to. And I’m going back to fix something I should have prioritized weeks ago."

I watched him, sensing a shift in his energy. "What is it?"

"Annie," he said, and I noticed how his entire expression softened at the mention of her name. "I’m going to find her. I’m going to ask for her forgiveness, and I’m going to ask her to take me back."

A quiet, genuine warmth spread through my chest. "You miss her."

"I miss her more than I can put into words," he admitted. "I think I always did, but I was too blinded by...well, everything else to see it."

I reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "Then you should go to her, Clinton. Don’t waste another second."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "I want you to be happy. You’ve been a constant in my life when everything else was falling apart. You deserve a love that is yours alone."

Clinton let out a long breath, as if a weight he’d been carrying for years had finally been lifted. "You’ve always been like that, you know? Selfless."

I shook my head slightly. "No. Just honest. And I’d like for us to still be friends, if you can handle that."

"I’d like that more than anything," he said, giving my hand a reciprocal squeeze. He stood up, looking at Locke and Holt one last time. "I guess you really don’t need me to protect you anymore, do you? You’ve got the best in the business."

"I can protect myself, Clinton. Don’t worry about me."

"I can see that now."

We shared a final hug—one that felt like a goodbye to the past and a tentative hello to a new kind of friendship.

"Take care of yourself, Octavia," he said as we parted. "I’ll still be a phone call away if you need help taking Dorian down."

"I’ll hold you to that," I smiled.

I turned and walked toward the exit, my heels clicking with a rhythm of renewed purpose. Locke and Holt fell into step behind me immediately, their presence a reminder of the battle still ahead.

I had barely reached the limo when my phone began to vibrate. It was Clarence. I answered on the first ring. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Flemington, we have an update," Clarence said. His voice was calm, but it carried that razor-sharp edge I had come to associate with bad news.

"Is it about Bella?"

"Yes. And it’s significant. I think you need to come back to the estate immediately. I don’t want to discuss this over an open line."

"I’m on my way," I said, my heart hammering.

The limo pulled away from the curb, and as I looked out at the city, I realized the pieces were moving faster than I could track. Clinton was gone, Annie was out there somewhere, and Bella...Bella was about to become the center of my world.

The hunt was truly on.