Chapter 76

~ Octavia ~

The moment I stepped back into our suite, I sank onto the edge of the bed with a long, happy sigh. The hours Franklin and I had just spent on the beach felt nothing short of magical. I couldn’t help but wonder: was he truly changing for me? Were those whispered confessions on the sand genuine, or was this some elaborate new stunt? I shook the doubt away, letting the warmth of the evening bubble up inside me.

Then, my mind drifted to Clinton. A pang of guilt hit me. How would he feel when I eventually told him that Franklin and I were actually... okay? He had seen the worst of how Franklin treated me; he had been my anchor during the storm.

I felt torn, a quiet conflict brewing in my chest. I’ll deal with that when we get back to Manhattan, I decided. For now, I just wanted this fragile peace to last.

An hour passed, then two. Franklin hadn’t returned.

I picked up my phone to call him, but it went straight to voicemail.

"Hey, this is Franklin... leave a message after the beep." After the sharp tone, I found myself rambling.

"Hey, Franklin, it’s me... Octavia. Obviously, you know who I am since you have my number..." I bit my lip, stopping the nervous babble. What is wrong with me? I cleared my throat and tried again. "Anyway, it’s been over an hour and you aren’t back yet. Just let me know when you’re heading this way. I’m going to bed, so call me as soon as you get this."

I brushed my teeth and crawled into bed, pulling the duvet up to my chin.

I stared at the ceiling, replaying the night like a movie: the dinner date, our playful banter while swimming, and the incredible intimacy on the shore. With those memories acting as a lullaby, I finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the sun’s rays poked through the curtains, coaxing me awake. I sat up, yawning and stretching my stiff muscles. When I turned to the other side of the bed, my heart sank. The sheets were still perfectly tucked, the pillow undisturbed.

Franklin hadn’t come back to our suite.

I went through the motions of my morning routine—brushing my teeth, showering, and dressing—all while a dull knot of anxiety formed in my stomach. My phone buzzed on the vanity. It was Victoria.

"Hey, Vic," I said, putting her on speaker.

"Hey, doll! Good morning," she chirped.

"Morning. What’s up?"

"Nothing much. I just finished my shower and I’m starving. Want to grab breakfast? I hate eating alone."

"What about the others?" I asked, pulling on my sandals. "You could join the rest of the team."

"Ugh, they’re boring to hang out with," she groaned. "All they talk about is how ’excited’ they are to be here. Like they’ve never been on a trip before."

"To be fair, Vic, have you ever been on a corporate retreat this lavish?" I teased.

"Touché. You win this round," she chuckled. "So, breakfast? Unless you’re having a romantic morning meal with the husband, of course."

"No...no, it’s fine. I’ll meet you in the lobby."

A few minutes later, we

were settled in the resort’s grand dining hall.

"You look distracted," Victoria noted, pausing with her fork mid-air.

"Is it that obvious?" I sighed, reaching for the maple syrup.

"Extremely. What’s going on?"

"Franklin didn’t come back to the suite last night," I admitted.

Victoria’s eyebrows shot up. "Why? Did you guys have a blowout on the beach?"

"No! It was the opposite. We were... really okay. Like, ’sex on the beach’ okay," I whispered, feeling my cheeks heat up.

"Wait, what? Like actual sex on the beach?" She started to smirk.

"Yes," I blushed deeper. "But that’s not the point. Right after, he got a call from a business associate I guess—and said he was needed urgently. He escorted me back to the room, left, and I haven’t seen him since."

"Have you tried calling him?"

"Voicemail," I said.

"Maybe his phone died?"

"Call him again. Right now," she insisted.

I dialed the number. After a few seconds, I lowered the phone. "Still nothing. Straight to voicemail."

"Don’t panic yet," Victoria said, trying to be helpful. "Maybe the meeting ran late or was so sensitive he had to keep his phone off."

"I don’t know, Vic. Even if that were true, wouldn’t he have texted this morning? I feel like I’ve been ghosted again"

"Or maybe he’s cheating again," Victoria said bluntly.

The words felt like a punch to my face. "No...he wouldn’t. Not now."

"Octavia, look at the facts. He’s done it before with Bella. Why do you think he’s suddenly a changed man?"

"Because he told me he loves me, Vic! And I believe him."

"You can believe his words, but you don’t always know his actions," she countered, taking a bite of her pancake. "He could be telling you one thing and doing another."

"He’s not," I insisted, though my voice lacked conviction.

We finished our meal in a tense silence. As we walked toward the elevators in the lobby, I spotted Mr. Rice, Franklin’s secretary. I hurried toward him with Victoria following close behind.

"Good morning, Mr. Rice!" I called out.

"Good morning, Mrs. Flemington," he replied with a polite nod.

"Is Franklin with you? I haven’t seen him all morning."

Mr. Rice looked puzzled.

"Actually, I haven’t seen him either. He told me yesterday to keep today’s schedule clear because he wanted to take you on a private tour of the island. I assumed he was still upstairs with you."

My heart began to race. "But his phone is off, and he didn’t sleep in the room. I’m getting really worried."

"When was the last time you reached him?" Mr. Rice asked, his professional mask slipping into concern.

"Last night, and a while ago ."

Just then, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. My heart leaped—I thought it was him. But when I swiped the screen, my breath hitched. It was an unknown number.

The text read: TROUBLE IN PARADISE?

Below the words were several photos. My blood turned to ice as I scrolled through them.

They were clear shots of Franklin, completely naked and fast asleep in a hotel bed.