Chapter 117

~ Clinton ~

On my way back to the office, the city blurred past my windows in streaks of steel and glass, but my mind was miles away from the traffic. The conversation with Bella still churned inside me like acid. I needed more answers—real ones. Without thinking twice, I dialed Miranda’s number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Lawson speaking," she answered, crisp and professional.

"Miranda, hey. Are you less busy right now? There’s something important I need to ask you."

"What’s that?" Her tone stayed neutral, but I could hear the slightest edge beneath it.

"On the day Octavia Herman fell down the stairwell, where was Bella Washington?"

A short pause. Then her voice sharpened, though she clearly tried to keep it polite. "You’re asking me because you think Miss Washington would have the effrontery to push Miss Herman down the stairs?"

"If my theories are proven correct, then yes—more than likely, she could be the one who did it," I replied evenly.

"I see." Another beat of silence. When she spoke again, her words were measured. "Well, she was in her office, busy preparing. She had an important meeting scheduled with Stewart Global Group up on the Upper East Side the next day. I believe she was running through her rehearsal, perfecting what she planned to present. That’s where she would have been the entire time."

"Has that proven your theory, Mr. Harrington?" she added, a touch of challenge in her voice.

"Almost," I said, keeping my tone light. "Thank you, Mrs. Lawson. I’ll be coming down to the company shortly to take care of a few things."

"Okay. Have a good day, Mr. Harrington."

"Likewise. Thank you." I ended the call, but the doubt in my gut only grew heavier. Her answers had come too quickly, too cleanly. Almost rehearsed.

I made a sharp U-turn, heading straight for JeffTech instead of my own office. There was something I needed to see for myself.

The security room at JeffTech was cool and dimly lit, the glow of dozens of monitors casting pale blue light across the walls. With the board of directors’ reluctant approval, I had full access. I leaned over the guard’s shoulder.

"On the day of Octavia Herman-Flemington’s accident, pull up the footage from Bella Washington’s office, please." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

The guard nodded without a word, fingers flying across the keyboard. Moments later, the screen filled with a clear view of Bella’s sleek corner office. There she was—exactly where she and Miranda had claimed. She paced slowly in front of her desk, tablet in hand, lips moving as she rehearsed her presentation. She glanced at her watch once, then continued without ever leaving the frame. No gaps. No mysterious exits. Nothing.

She really had been in her office.

"Thank you," I muttered, already turning toward the door. The guard said nothing as I left.

In the bright, bustling lobby, the click of heels echoed behind me.

"Mr. Harrington." I turned to see Miranda approaching from the front desk, where she had been speaking with the receptionist. Her expression was calm, but her eyes held a glint of curiosity. "Did you get what you were looking for?"

"Yes, I did," I replied.

"And? Problem solved?" She tilted her head, studying me.

"It’s just getting started," I said with a shrug.

"I see." She folded her arms, the professional mask slipping just enough for me to notice. "I think it would be better if you stopped all this investigating. It’s only going to lead you to a dead end."

"I don’t think it will," I answered, keeping my voice steady.

"Okay, but let me ask you this: does Octavia’s husband, Mr. Flemington, even know you’re conducting this investigation all on your own?"

"He’s aware," I half-lied. Franklin knew I had offered to help investigate what really happened to his wife, but he had no idea I had taken the reins solo. Not yet, anyway.

"I see," she said again, drawing the words out. "Well, it will still lead you nowhere. What we all believe right now is that Miss Herman simply stumbled and fell on her own. Accidents happen."

"I simply doubt it," I countered.

"If you doubt it, then who in their right mind would want to hurt Miss Herman?" Miranda’s voice softened, almost pleading. "She’s an angel in this office. Everyone loves her."

"She’s very much loved," I agreed, "but not by Bella Washington."

"Look, they may not get along well, but I don’t think Miss Washington is capable of hurting Miss Herman," she insisted.

"And you believe that because...?"

"Because I know such a thing simply couldn’t happen here." Her tone was firm, final.

I offered a small smile. "Well, let’s all just see how everything unfolds, shall we?"

I turned to leave. "I’ll be heading out now. Goodbye, Miranda."

As I walked out of the building, the weight of her words followed me like a shadow. Something about the way she had defended Bella felt too polished, too quick. Almost protective.

I reached my car but didn’t start the engine right away. I sat there, staring through the windshield, replaying every detail. Bella might be off the suspect list based on the footage, but that didn’t mean she was innocent. Alibis could be manufactured. What if she hadn’t done the dirty work herself? What if someone else had? The question gnawed at me: who else would want Octavia gone badly enough to push her down those stairs?

I started the car and drove back to my office, the city traffic doing nothing to quiet my thoughts. Once inside, I draped my suit jacket over the back of my swivel chair and paced the room. Confronting Bella earlier, she had looked genuinely shocked—almost believable. But I’d seen enough in business to know that the best liars wore sincerity like a second skin. Was I wrong? Or was there a culprit out there who could act completely innocent while hiding something monstrous?

Then another thought hit me: the way Miranda had specifically asked whether Franklin knew about my solo investigation. Was she planning to call him herself? The last thing I needed was for him to hear it secondhand. No matter how much I hated admitting it, Franklin deserved the full truth—from me.

I picked up my phone and dialed his number. It rang straight to voicemail.

"Hey, it’s Franklin. Leave a message after the beep."

The tone sounded, and I cleared my throat.

"Hey, Flemington. This is Clinton. I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but I have something very important to tell you. Something about Octavia’s accident. As soon as you get this, call me back, okay? I’ll be waiting. Thanks."

I ended the message and let out a long breath, staring at the phone in my hand. All I could do now was wait for my frenemy’s call. I prayed it would come before Miranda tried to reach him first. Logic told me I was doing the right thing. Still, the knot in my stomach refused to loosen.

Later that evening, just as the city lights began to flicker on outside my window, my phone rang. Franklin’s name flashed across the screen.

Finally.

I answered on the first ring, my voice steady but urgent.

"Hey, Flemington... we need to talk."