Chapter 205

~ Octavia ~

The words kept replaying in my head. Dead. Bella was dead.

I should have felt something more. Relief, maybe. Closure. But all I felt was a strange kind of numbness, like my body had decided to shut down before my mind could process what this actually meant.

"Hey," Franklin said, his hand finding mine in the back of the car after we left the hospital. "Stop thinking about it. It’s over now."

I looked at him, and he was right. The concern in his eyes, the way he was trying to pull me back to the present moment, that was what mattered. Not Bella. Not whatever had driven her to do what she did. We were alive. We were safe. And the people who’d tried to destroy us were either behind bars or... gone.

"You’re right," I said, squeezing his hand. "It’s over."

But even as I said it, I wasn’t sure if I believed it. Something about it felt too neat, too convenient. But Franklin was already moving on, already planning the next steps for Flemington. The board needed to be restructured. We needed new directors who were actually loyal instead of just greedy. There was work to do.

So I let the thought of Bella slip away.

When we got back to the house, the staff was waiting. I could see them lined up near the entrance, Olga, Lila, and Clarence, who’d been with us through everything. Their faces lit up the moment Franklin walked through the door.

"Mr Flemington!" Olga rushed forward, her thick Russian accent breaking with emotion. "Thank God, thank God. Olga was so worried. So worried for you and Mrs. Flemington." She clutched her hands to her chest, tears in her eyes.

Franklin pulled her into a hug, and I saw his shoulders relax slightly. "I’m fine, Olga. We’re both fine."

Lila, came over to me with genuine warmth in her eyes. "Mrs. Flemington, you were so brave. The way you handled everything... we were all talking about it. You saved everything."

I felt my face warm. "I just did what needed to be done."

Clarence stepped forward respectfully, his butler’s composure slightly cracked with emotion. "Madam, if I may say, what you accomplished was extraordinary. The staff, we all agree. You saved the company. You saved Mr. Flemington."

Franklin looked at me, and I could see the emotion in his eyes. Pride. Love. Admiration.

Olga was already moving toward the kitchen, fussing as she went. "No, no, you both look terrible. So thin, so thin. Olga make dinner now. You sit, you rest. You go sit down before you fall down. Body need rest, yes?"

Despite everything, I smiled. Olga’s maternal instincts never failed, no matter how many times we told her we were fine.

Once the staff had left us alone in the living room, Franklin took my hand and pulled me toward the couch. We sat down, and he just held me for a moment without saying anything. His arm was around my shoulders, and my head was against his chest, and I could hear his heartbeat, it feels real.

"I’m sorry," he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. "I’m so sorry for all of this. For Dorian. For putting you through everything. For making you fight my battles."

I pulled back to look at him. "Franklin—"

"No, let me say this," he continued, his jaw tight. "I would do anything to go back and erase all the bad moments. Everything that hurt you. Everything that scared you. I hate that you had to go through that. I hate that I wasn’t strong enough to protect you from it."

"You’re being too hard on yourself," I said softly.

"I’m being honest," he replied. He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. "From now on, we’re starting fresh. A new phase. Just us. And I’m going to spend every day making sure you never regret choosing me."

There was something in the intensity of his gaze that made my breath catch.

I reached up and kissed him gently. A soft kiss, full of forgiveness and promise.

But he deepened it, pulling me closer, his hand moving to the back of my neck. The kiss became urgent, passionate, like he was trying to pour all his emotion, all his gratitude, all his love into it. I responded just as intensely, my fingers threading through his hair, my body pressing against his.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing hard.

"I love you," he whispered against my forehead.

"I love you too," I said.

And in that moment, wrapped up in his arms, with the city lights twinkling outside our windows and the staff bustling quietly in the kitchen preparing dinner, I believed it. I believed that the worst was truly over. I believed that we could move forward. I believed that life would be great again.

Everything was over now. The fighting. The schemes. The threats.

Franklin traced his fingers down my arm, and I felt the small gesture like an anchor. After months of lies and manipulation, of not knowing who to trust, this was real. His touch was real.

"We should eat," he said, but he didn’t move. Neither did I.

Outside, the city hummed with evening traffic. Inside our bubble, there was only silence and the soft sound of each other breathing.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

I considered lying. Telling him something simple and reassuring. But I was tired of half-truths and careful words.

"That I’m afraid something will take this away from us," I admitted quietly. "That it can’t possibly be this simple."

He pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "For once, let it be simple. Let us just... be."

His voice held such certainty that for a moment, I let myself believe it too. Maybe the worst really was over. Maybe we’d earned this peace.

"Okay," I whispered. "Just us."

"Just us," he echoed, and held me tighter.

It was just us. Finally, it was just us.

And that was more than enough.