Chapter 180

~ Octavia ~

The drive from the hospital to my parents’ apartment felt like navigating through a dream that had turned into a slow-motion nightmare. After ensuring Dyson was stationed like a gargoyle outside Frederick’s room, I finally allowed myself to retreat. But there was no real sanctuary to be found.

I let myself in, and the heavy silence of the living room told me my parents were still awake. They were seated like a tribunal of two, waiting for the daughter who had stormed out in a whirlwind of grief hours ago.

"I called you several times," my mother began, her voice a mix of reprimand and relief as I shed my coat.

"I know," I said, the word coming out as a weary rasp.

My parents exchanged one of those long, silent looks that only people married for thirty years can manage. My father stood up, gently taking my arm and guiding me to the sofa. He sat beside me while my mother took the armchair opposite us, her eyes searching mine.

"Are you okay?" my father asked, his voice low and cautious.

"You know perfectly well I’m not okay, Dad," I mumbled, the facade finally cracking.

"Come here, kiddo," he said sadly. I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder as he stroked my arm, a familiar comfort that usually made the world feel small again. Tonight, the world remained terrifyingly vast.

"The news is everywhere now," I whispered, a single tear tracking down my cheek. "The reporters, the paparazzi...they were swarming the estate like vultures today. I felt like I couldn’t breathe."

"You’ve been overwhelmed," he murmured.

"I still am. Why does this keep happening?" I looked up at them, desperate for an answer that wasn’t there. "I don’t deserve to feel this way. I don’t deserve this much loss."

I began to weep then—not the frantic sobbing of earlier, but a quiet, exhausted mourning. My mother moved to my other side, her hand rubbing my back.

"Oh, honey," she whispered. "I can’t imagine the weight you’re carrying. But remember, the authorities haven’t stopped. There’s a search party in the Amazon right now. Don’t lose hope."

"That’s the thing, Mom...I’m already losing it. What if—"

"No ’what ifs,’" my father interrupted firmly, squeezing my shoulder. "Just hold on to the hope. It’s all we have right now."

I sniffed, clinging to his coat until my limbs felt like lead. Eventually, I announced I was going to bed, though I knew sleep would be a stranger.

The following morning, the sun rose with a cold, indifferent brightness. I didn’t let myself linger in bed. I dressed in a sharp, black suit—a suit that felt like armor—and drove to the Flemington Group headquarters.

The conference room was exactly as I had imagined: a cathedral of glass, chrome, and intimidation. It was designed to make anyone who entered feel insignificant, but as I walked in, I felt a cold, sharp clarity. This was my first time inside the inner sanctum of Franklin’s empire, and despite the circumstances, the sheer scale of the operation was breathtaking.

Twelve pairs of eyes tracked my movement. These were the men and women who had built dynasties on cold numbers and calculated risks. Now, they were looking at me like I was a glitch in their system. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

"Mrs. Flemington, thank you for coming on such short notice," one man began, his hands folded neatly on the mahogany table.

I didn’t sit immediately. I let the silence stretch, the tension thick enough to taste. Only when the air felt sufficiently heavy did I pull out the chair at the head of the table—Franklin’s chair.

"You called, and I came," I said, my voice steady and devoid of warmth.

"Let’s cut to the chase. Tell me why I’ve been summoned."

A flicker of surprise crossed a few faces. They had expected a grieving widow; they found a woman with a spine of steel. An older man leaned forward, his expression grave.

"We will be direct, then. The news about Mr. Flemington’s...predicament...has created a vacuum. The company is currently without a clear leader. Until his status is confirmed, we cannot afford instability."

"I am well aware of the stakes," I replied. "Do you consider me to be the instability?"

"We think you are untested," a woman replied bluntly from halfway down the table.

I felt a flash of heat behind my eyes. "I have barely begun to process the fact that my husband’s plane is missing, and I am summoned here to be told I am ’untested’ and ’unstable’?"

"Mrs. Flemington, let us be clear about what we mean," the woman continued, her tone patronizing. "We are aware of your medical history. The incident at JeffTech. The fall. The head injury. We cannot entrust the survival of a global conglomerate to someone whose health is...uncertain."

I scoffed, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "So, you’ve been digging through my medical files while my husband is lost in a jungle?"

"What we mean," a man added, "is that you are in no position to lead. At all."

I let that statement breathe, looking at each of them in turn. "So let me understand this," I said slowly, clasping my hands on the table. "You called me here not because you believe I should step in, but to ensure that I won’t?"

No one denied it. Silence was their confession. My jaw tightened. "My husband is missing, and instead of support, you offer an ambush?"

"This is business," the older man said coldly. "Business does not pause for personal tragedy. Furthermore, your marriage has been under...scrutiny."

My eyes snapped to his. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"We are aware that a certain party has made inquiries regarding the legitimacy of your union," he said.

Harrington. The name echoed in my mind. Not Clinton—he wouldn’t do this. This had the stench of Dorian Harrington all over it. The man was a shark who had been waiting for the water to turn bloody.

"What does Dorian Harrington have to do with this board?" I asked, my voice dropping to a dangerous level.

The head of the board, an elderly man who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.

"Everything. The board has already made a decision, Mrs. Flemington. We have voted."

My stomach dropped, a cold hollow opening in my chest.

"We have voted to appoint an acting CEO of the Flemington Group," he continued. "To maintain the confidence of our shareholders."

"Who?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Dorian Harrington."

The name hit the room like a physical blow. It was a calculated coup. Dorian, the man Frederick had fired years ago for his insatiable greed, had finally found a way back in. He had waited for the moment when Frederick was in a coma and Franklin was gone.

"No," I said, shaking my head firmly.

Several board members shifted uncomfortably. "Mrs. Flemington, I—"

"I said no," I repeated, my voice ringing out, clear and sharp. "You do not get to hand over my husband’s legacy to that man while I am still standing."

"He is not just a man, Mrs. Flemington," the chairman said. "He knows this company. He has convinced us that he can ensure we flourish during this crisis. The vote is over. Your presence here was merely a formality—a courtesy to inform you in person."

A formality. My hands clenched at my sides. They had dismissed me before I even walked through the door. Dorian had orchestrated this perfectly, preying on their fear to seize the throne.

I stood up slowly, the movement commanding the room’s attention one last time. I straightened my suit, looking every one of them in the eye.

"Then let me be just as clear," I said, the words vibrating with a quiet fury. "I do not support this decision. I will not stand by while you hand this empire to a man who only wants to dismantle it for his own gain. I will not allow you to put the fate of this company in jeopardy."

Their expressions hardened, but I didn’t care. I leaned over the table, my shadow falling over the chairman.

"Mark my words. This isn’t over."

With that, I turned and walked out. I didn’t look back. Staying any longer would have meant accepting their defeat, and as long as I was a Flemington, I refused to accept anything less than total victory.