Chapter 225

~Franklin~

I was outside Octavia’s workplace. She walked out of the glass doors. Even with the subtle slump of exhaustion in her shoulders, she looked radiant. She was my entire world.

I leaned over and pushed the passenger door open for her.

"Franklin, I got something recorded today. Listen to this."

She pulled out her phone and hit play. I listened to the whole conversation.

The audio cut out. My knuckles turned white against the steering wheel. I felt a violent wave of protective fury crash over my chest.

"If Bella knows about the pregnancy then my baby is in danger. My office has been bugged. They are listening to everything."

I reached over, wrapping my hand tightly around hers.

"If they’re listening, we can use it to our advantage. What if I knowingly feed them false information? I can say something to lure them. We can use their own bugs to trap them."

I looked at her, entirely captivated by her sheer bravery, but the thought of her playing games with a psychopath made my chest tighten. I leaned over, gently cupping her face in my hand, tracing her cheekbone with my thumb.

"Don’t worry your pretty head about trapping them right now, love," I murmured, my voice dripping with pure devotion. "Just relax. Leave the heavy lifting to me. You’ve done enough just uncovering this."

"Franklin, I’m also involved," she protested, leaning into my palm despite her words. "I can’t just sit back."

"And I’m your husband," I countered softly, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Which is why I’ve already taken precautions. I went ahead and hired two discreet, elite bodyguards to watch over you."

Octavia instantly pulled back, her brow furrowing in protest. "What? Franklin, no! Two bodyguards? That’s way too much. If Miranda or anyone else sees them trailing me around the office, it’s going to ruin everything. It will look completely suspicious."

"They are absolute professionals, sweetheart," I explained patiently, a tender smile tugging at my lips as I smoothed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "They won’t be standing outside your office door or making a scene. Please, Octavia. Do this for me. Let me protect you. I can’t breathe properly knowing you’re walking into that building unprotected."

She stared at me, her dark eyes swimming with a mixture of sarcasm and deep, emotional warmth. She let out a long, defeated sigh, melting back against the leather seat. "Fine. I guess I have to agree. You’re entirely too stubborn when it comes to my safety."

"Only because you are my entire world," I whispered, leaning across the console to kiss her deeply, pouring every ounce of my love and relief into it.

When I finally pulled away, a sudden, loud rumble echoed from her midsection. Octavia froze, her face instantly turning a beautiful shade of crimson.

"Was that you, or my baby?" I teased, looking down at her stomach.

She pouted playfully, crossing her arms. "The baby is officially craving ice cream, Franklin. And as the father, it is your civic duty to fulfill that request immediately."

"Your wish is my command, Mrs. Flemington," I laughed, finally shifting the car into gear. "Let’s go find a sugar fix."

We ended up at a small icecream place.

We walked up to the glass display case, Octavia’s eyes light up. She looked like a little kid, pressing her nose almost flat against the glass.

"Oh my goodness, Franklin, look at all of these," she gasped, her eyes gazing from one tub to the next. "Can I please try a sample of the salted caramel? Oh, and the raspberry cheesecake. And definitely the dark chocolate espresso."

The teenager behind the counter smiled eagerly, handing over little pink plastic spoons. Octavia took each one, closing her eyes in pure bliss as she tasted them.

"Wow," she murmured, wiping a tiny speck of pink ice cream from the corner of her lip. "The baby really likes the raspberry. But the baby also thinks we need to sample the mint fudge just to be thorough."

"Is that so?" I chuckled, leaning against my cane and watching her with absolute adoration. "It sounds to me like the baby just wants a taste of every single flavor in the shop."

"Don’t judge the appetite of a developing child," she said playfully, nudging my hip with hers.

I didn’t answer. I just stood there, looking at her. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.

Octavia caught me staring and paused, a soft blush creeping up her neck. She lowered her sample spoon, suddenly looking incredibly shy. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have chocolate on my face?"

"No," I said softly, stepping closer until the space between us completely disappeared. "I’m looking at you because you are absolutely breathtaking. Every single day, I look at you and wonder how I got lucky enough to be the man holding your hand."

She bit her lip, her eyelashes fluttering as she looked down, her cheeks burning a deep, beautiful pink. Even after everything we had been through, I loved that I could still make her blush like a schoolgirl.

"Franklin, stop," she whispered shyly, clutching the lapel of my coat. "People are going to see."

"Let them," I murmured, leaning down to capture her lips in a sweet, slow kiss that tasted faintly of raspberry and mint.

After she finally settled on a large waffle bowl overflowing with three different scoops, we made our way back home. The moment we stepped into the penthouse, the exhaustion of the day seemed to catch up to her all at once. The pregnancy had been making her incredibly tired these days, draining her usual endless reservoir of energy. She barely had enough time to change into her pajamas before she climbed into bed, falling fast asleep the second her head hit the pillow.

I stood by the edge of the bed for a long moment, pulling the duvet up over her shoulders and kissing her cheek before slipping out of the room.

I walked down the dark hallway into my study, my expression hardening. Earlier, right after Octavia had sent me the anonymous audio recording in the car, I had immediately forwarded the file to Detective Tate. We needed answers, and we needed them now.

As if on cue, my phone began to vibrate silently on the desk. The caller ID read Tate.

I stepped out to the terrace, closing the glass door behind me to ensure I wouldn’t wake Octavia. I swiped the screen and pressed the phone to my ear.

"Tate," I said, my voice low and sharp against the cool night air. "How is it? Were you able to get anything?"

"Mr. Flemington," Tate’s voice sounded through the line, sounding unusually tense but driven. "Yes. We managed to pull all her information and track where she is currently hiding out."

A surge of pure excitement and adrenaline shot through my veins. "Are you serious? How?"

"We managed to intercept the encrypted routing protocols she was using to message the inside source. From there, I used Miranda’s phone logs and some cell tower triangulation to trace the origin of the burner numbers. She’s currently operating out of a safe house in North Carolina. We have a localized address."

"That’s incredible," I said, a dark sense of triumph washing over me. We had her. We finally had a location.

"Mr. Flemington, wait," Tate interrupted, his tone suddenly dropping into a heavy, somber register that made my breath catch in my throat. "There is something important I think you should know. Something we uncovered while digging through her medical and travel history under her assumed aliases before she fled New York."

A cold spike of anxiety pierced through my excitement. "What are you talking about?"

"Before she left the state and staged her disappearance, she made a few discreet hospital visits," Tate explained, his voice measured. "Although I couldn’t get my hands on the full medical details because of strict privacy encryptions on the core files..."

"Get to the chase, Detective Tate," I told him, snapping sharply as I gripped the terrace railing. I was already incredibly anxious, a terrible, sinking feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. "What did you find?"

There was a brief, agonizing pause on the other end of the line. The ambient noise of the city traffic below seemed to fade into a ringing silence.

"Mr. Flemington," Tate said softly. "Bella is pregnant."

I felt my blood run cold. Every ounce of warmth drained from my body in a single, terrifying instant. I stood frozen on the terrace, my face turning completely pale under the moonlight, the world spinning violently out of control.