Chapter 116

~ Clinton ~

The mere thought that Bella Washington might have had something to do with Octavia’s accident filled me with fury. It was still just a theory—I hadn’t proven anything yet—but now that I had her phone number, I finally had a chance to test it.

I pulled out my phone and stared at her number on the screen like it was a loaded weapon. I didn’t dial right away. I needed to be calculated. I ran through every possible thing I might say, building the plan carefully in my head.

Bella Washington. That name carried a different weight now. Every finger at the office pointed straight at her. She wasn’t just a colleague or the woman who had flirted a little too boldly in the Bronx. She was something more. Was I suspicious of her? Damn right I was. She was a suspect — at the very least, someone worth testing.

I exhaled slowly, then tapped the screen. The line rang once... twice... and then she answered.

"Hello?" Her voice was firm and strong.

"Am I speaking to Bella Washington?" I asked.

"Yes, this is she. Is there a problem?"

"No problem at all. This is Clinton Harrington."

"Clinton? I mean... Mr. Harrington?" Her tone softened instantly. "Wow...how did you get my phone number?"

"Miranda, your team leader, gave it to me. I requested it."

"Can I ask why?"

"To call and talk to you," I said smoothly.

"Oh."

"I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time." I leaned back in my chair, keeping my voice casual.

"What? Not at all. I just...wasn’t expecting you to call me," she replied quickly. I could already hear the shift—the curiosity mixed with something hungrier. Expectation. Maybe even desperation.

"I actually wanted to follow up about the Bronx trip," I said casually.

"Oh? What about it?" Her voice grew softer.

I let a small pause stretch between us, just long enough for her to fill it.

"Mr. Harrington? Are you still there?"

"I think we should talk, Miss Washington. Or should I just call you Bella?"

"Bella is fine with me."

"Good. We should talk... in person."

Silence settled, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of silence that crackled with anticipation.

"I was hoping you’d say that," she finally answered, sounding almost amused.

Of course she was. I had counted on it.

"There’s a quiet restaurant downtown. We can have lunch there."

"That sounds... amazing," she chuckled.

Amazing. One way to put it.

"You can send me the address and I’ll be there," she added.

"I know you will. See you there, Bella." I ended the call before she could say anything else.

No hesitation. No room for overthinking. The plan was already in motion.

I stood up, grabbed my suit jacket, and headed out. It was time to find out exactly what Bella Washington was hiding.

The restaurant was quiet and elegant—the perfect place for a private conversation. I arrived early, of course. I chose a table with a clear view of the entrance so I could control the situation from the moment she walked in.

Finally, I saw her.

She strode through the doors like she owned the place, moving with composed confidence. She had dressed to impress, and the effect was immediate. Her eyes found mine instantly, and a satisfied little smirk curved her lips.

"Mr. Harrington," she said as she approached, her tone warm and playful. An intense designer perfume trailed behind her, so strong it nearly filled the entire section of the restaurant. A few customers glanced her way. She had clearly worn it for me.

"Bella," I replied, standing briefly before settling back into my seat.

She slid into the chair across from me and crossed her legs, looking completely at ease—as if this was exactly what she had expected.

"I have to admit, I never thought you’d ask Mrs. Lawson for my number just to call me," she said, tilting her head slightly.

"I didn’t expect to either, but I needed it so we could meet in person and talk."

That made her smile widen just a fraction.

"But I guess the Bronx trip left quite an impression," she added, biting her lower lip seductively.

I only shrugged. "I just wanted us to talk."

"About business?" Her tone suggested she already knew the answer was no.

"Well...not exactly." I sighed.

That caught her full attention. She leaned in, eyes bright with interest. "Then what is it?"

I held her gaze steadily. "Honestly, Bella, the real reason I asked you here is because I want to know what happened to Octavia Herman — your colleague at work."

"And how exactly does what happened to Octavia have anything to do with me?" She frowned.

"Everything," I said calmly. "The other day I questioned all your colleagues about the accident. Every single one of them pointed at you. They believe you’re capable of hurting her—especially since the two of you don’t get along. So I decided I needed to speak with you directly and find out what really happened."

Her frown deepened. "What happened to Octavia, Bella?" I asked softly.

The question hung heavy between us.

Her frown eased a little. "Mr. Harrington, if you think playing detective and asking me questions about Octavia’s accident is going to work, you’re mistaken."

"Oh yeah? And why is that?"

"One, you’re not a licensed detective, so you can’t just demand answers from me. And two, why on earth would I want to hurt Octavia?" She scoffed.

"Because you hate her. And hatred can push people to do terrible things... maybe even get rid of someone."

"That’s a huge accusation, Mr. Harrington. You’re accusing me of something I never did—never even thought of doing."

"But you do hate her, don’t you?"

"Yes. And that doesn’t mean I’d try to kill her." She glared at me. "Everyone at the office knows we don’t get along. We hate each other. But you actually think I’d be capable of pushing her down the stairs just to prove I’m not someone to mess with?"

I kept my voice even. "You know what all your colleagues are saying about you?"

"Enlighten me."

"That you’re the type of person who removes anyone who stands in the way of what makes you happy—even if that person is close to you."

She chuckled, surprising me. "They really said that?"

"It’s their words against yours."

"Oh, please." She frowned again. "They’re just jealous. I got where I am without anyone’s help. I’m one of the most important people at that company. I’m the best at what I do. When they hear my name, jealousy is the first thing that comes to mind. I’m not even surprised they’d say something like that."

She straightened up. "So to answer your question, Mr. Harrington, I had nothing to do with Octavia’s accident."

"Then where were you when it happened?"

"I can’t remember," she shrugged.

"Meaning you can’t think of an answer because I caught you off guard with the question."

"My God, this is ridiculous," she snapped, anger flashing in her eyes.

"It’s not ridiculous if you just answer truthfully."

"You think I would fucking push her?" Her voice sharpened.

"I’m asking if you did."

"I didn’t, okay?" she blurted.

"If you didn’t, then tell me where you were."

"How can I tell you when you’re not even a detective?"

"You’re right—I’m not. But I’m trying to get justice for my friend."

"Justice... right." She scoffed. "Fine. I was in my office. I was working on what I was going to say in a meeting with one of our partner companies."

"What’s the name of the company?"

"Does it even matter?"

"It does. In every way."

"Stewart Global Group."

"Okay."

"So you believe me now?" she asked.

"I actually don’t. But let’s say I do. If you really were in your office like you claim, then who do you think pushed Octavia?"

"You can’t possibly think that maybe she tripped and fell down the stairs all on her own?" She tilted her jaw, frowning harder.

"It’s hard to believe she did that by herself."

"Why? Because she’s your friend?"

"No. Because I watched the security footage of what happened the day I found out she was in the hospital."

"That can’t be me, then."

"Maybe. I just have to investigate a little more to be sure." I stood up. "You’re still on my suspect list, Miss Washington."

I paused, then leaned down close to her ear so only she could hear. "If I find out in any way that you had something to do with what happened to Octavia, I will come for you. I mean it. And when I do, I won’t stop at exposing you. I will destroy your career—the one you’ve spent years building. I will make your life a living hell."

She turned and stared at me, long and hard. "You’re threatening me. This is a threat."

"No," I said, straightening up. "I’m just warning you."

She looked furious, like she might explode any second. But seconds later the rage drained away, replaced by a careful, almost sad expression. She knew that saying the wrong thing now could be used against her—especially since she understood exactly how much power I had to ruin her.

"I didn’t do it," she said quietly.

"Enjoy your lunch, Miss Washington."

I turned and walked out.

Outside, the air felt sharper, cleaner. I didn’t have proof yet, but I had something real. And I was going to find out the truth—no matter what it took.