Chapter 222

~ Octavia ~

Something was wrong with Franklin.

I’d been with him long enough to know the difference between his focused work mode and whatever this was. Focused Franklin was present, engaged, intense but connected. This Franklin was a ghost in our own home.

It started three days after we got back from Greece. He’d been fine on the honeymoon, attentive and loving that even made me almost forget about what happened. But the moment we returned to Manhattan, something shifted. He’d become secretive. His laptop screen would flip closed the moment I walked into his office. His phone calls happened behind locked doors. He’d ask me how my day was with this distracted expression, like his mind was somewhere else entirely.

I tried not to let it bother me. Pregnancy hormones could make you paranoid. He was probably just dealing with work stress, company politics, the usual executive headaches. But the protective part of me, the part that had survived Dorian and conspiracy and attempted murder, knew that wasn’t the full story.

Tonight, I decided to ask him directly.

We were in bed, me reading my pregnancy app when I set the phone down and turned to face him.

"Franklin, what’s going on?" I asked gently.

He was reading something on his own phone, his expression distant. He looked up, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve been avoiding me," I said, keeping my tone soft. "You’re sneaking calls, closing your laptop whenever I’m near, you’re distant. So either work is absolutely consuming you right now, or something is wrong. And I need you to tell me which one it is."

He set the phone down slowly. For a moment, I thought he was going to tell me. His jaw tightened, his eyes searched mine, and there was this flicker of something, indecision, guilt, fear, that crossed his face.

"Octavia..." he started.

"It’s okay," I said, reaching for his hand. "Whatever it is, we can handle it together. That’s what marriage is, right? We handle things together."

He squeezed my hand, and I felt him almost break. Almost tell me. I could see it in the way his breath hitched, the way his eyes got watery.

Then he pulled back.

"It’s nothing," he said, and just like that, the moment was gone. "Work stuff. You know how it gets. I don’t want to burden you with it, especially not while you’re pregnant."

I wanted to call him out on the lie. I wanted to push harder, demand answers, make him understand that I wasn’t some fragile thing that needed protection from reality. But he was already pulling me close, kissing the top of my head, and I knew that pushing would only make him shut down more.

So I let it go.

But I didn’t forget it.

-----

Two nights later, I woke up to find Franklin slipping out of bed at 11:47 PM. I watched him through barely-open eyes as he threw on clothes and grabbed his keys. He didn’t turn on the bedroom light, which meant he didn’t want me to know he was leaving.

My instincts screamed at me to follow him.

I gave him fifteen minutes, then threw on sweats and a hoodie. The hallway was quiet as I made my way downstairs. Olga had long since gone to bed, and Frederick was in his wing of the house. No one saw me slip out the side door.

Franklin’s car was easy to follow and the road was still busy so he wouldn’t have known I was following him. His car was heading straight for the Flemington Building. My heart began to pound harder.

Why would he go to the office in the middle of the night? Alone?

I parked two levels below him in the underground garage and made my way up slowly, staying in the shadows. I could hear the sound of voices before I saw them.

Franklin and Clinton were standing between two cars, their voices low and urgent. I pressed myself against a concrete pillar, close enough to hear but far enough to stay hidden.

"...she’s pregnant," Franklin was saying, his voice tight with something that sounded like fear. "And the news, I can’t tell her. It is not safe."

My blood went cold.

Pregnant? I know that is me. What isn’t he telling me?

"My contact came through," Clinton’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "The prison visitor logs showed the visits in the past month. I will just specifically rule out one that is important to us which is Miranda.’"

My stomach dropped. Miranda? My boss.

"That has to be her," Franklin said. "There’s no other explanation."

"But why?" Clinton asked. "Why would Miranda help Bella? What could Bella possibly have on her?"

"I don’t know," Franklin said, and I heard the frustration in his voice. "I don’t even know how to break the news to her that Bella is alive."

My hands were shaking. Bella. They were talking about Bella. Bella who was supposed to be dead. Bella who had apparently faked her suicide and was now alive.

"We will figure it out man." Clinton said.

"We need to know if they are still in contact. We need to find out before—"

He stopped abruptly. My breath caught.

Had they seen me?

But when I peeped, I saw him looking down in sadness.

Bella is apparently working with Miranda to... what? What was she planning?

And Franklin knew. Franklin had known for days and hadn’t told me.

I couldn’t breathe. Everything overwhelmed me at once. The decision to keep me in the dark like I was incapable of handling the truth,was suffocating.

"We need to move on this tonight," Clinton was saying. "If Miranda is meeting with her, if we can follow Miranda—"

"I know," Franklin interrupted. "But not until I figure out how to tell Octavia. She’s pregnant, Clinton. The stress alone could—"

"She’s also smart enough to help us stop this," Clinton shot back. "You’re not protecting her by lying to her. This is not safe and she will find out, when she does she will think you didn’t trust her enough to be honest."

Franklin was quiet. The silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of truth neither of them wanted to face.

I needed to leave. I needed to get back to the house before Franklin realized I was gone. My legs felt unsteady as I pushed off from the pillar and began backing away slowly.

That’s when the dizziness hit.

It started as a gentle wave, a slight tilting of the garage that didn’t make sense. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but it only got worse. My vision blurred at the edges.

No, no, no. Not now. Not here.

I tried to move faster, to get back to my car and steady myself—

The world spun.

I reached out for something to steady myself, but there was nothing there except empty air. My legs gave out. The floor was coming up too fast, and I couldn’t stop it.

The last thing I saw before everything went black was Franklin’s face. He’d turned, his eyes meeting mine across the distance of the garage. For just a moment, we stared at each other him realizing I’d been there all along, me falling into the darkness.

"Octavia!" His voice was already moving toward me, but I was already gone.

Everything went black.