Chapter 98

~ Clinton ~

I was heading to a quiet, old-school diner downtown to meet Trudy. She had called me a few days ago, mentioning how much she missed seeing me, so I decided we were long overdue for a proper lunch.

It had been quite some time since we’d sat down together—essentially since the day I moved out of my father’s estate to find my own footing.

I found her already tucked into one of the corner booths, looking as familiar and comforting as home itself.

"Hey, Trudy," I greeted her with a smile. She stood up immediately to pull me into a warm embrace.

"Master Clinton," she beamed, stepping back to look at me as we both slid into the vinyl seats of the booth.

"How have you been, Trudy? Really?" I asked.

"I’ve been good, dear. A little lonely in that big house, if I’m honest, but good."

"Why lonely?" I leaned forward. "The estate is usually buzzing."

"It’s just that most of my relatives are so far from New York these days. And leaving your father alone in that massive place... it gets me worried, even when I’m off the clock."

"You worry too much, Trudy," I chuckled. "He’s a grown man."

"Well, can you blame me?" She shrugged with a playful grin. "Old habits die hard."

"Just take it easy on yourself," I told her, shifting the subject. "How is the hiring of the new staff going? Is the house finally getting some life back into it?"

"It’s going well, though I must say, the candidates these days are demanding quite a high paycheck."

"Hire them anyway," I said firmly. "I’ll personally see to the increase in their wages. I want that estate to feel lively again so you don’t feel like a ghost in the hallways."

Trudy’s eyes crinkled as she grinned at me.

"You should take some real time off, Trudy. Go visit your family. I know how much you miss them."

"You have no idea," she sighed wistfully.

Trudy was a force of nature — a single mother who had raised two brilliant girls, Annie and Ayanna, entirely on her own. Their father had been a soldier, killed in action during a deployment in Kabul, Afghanistan when the girls were still toddlers.

They had grown up on the estate, living there for over a decade. In fact, I’d harbored a massive, clumsy crush on Annie for years. She and her sister had only left the nest when they were accepted into colleges outside of New York.

My mother had adored Trudy’s girls, treating them almost like her own, which was why Trudy stayed on even after my mother passed. She felt a deep debt of gratitude for the way our family had sheltered hers. My father, for all his faults, had ensured they never wanted for food or education. Ayanna, the eldest, was now engaged and living in Chicago, while Annie was pursuing her passion at an art school in New Orleans.

"You’re free to go see them, Trudy. I won’t mind, and neither will the house."

"But what about your father?" she asked, her loyalty kicking in.

"He can take care of himself for a week or two. The new staff can keep an eye on him. Go be a mother for a while."

"Okay," she said after a thoughtful pause. "I might just take you up on that. Speaking of your father, he’s actually doing better lately. He’s been getting out of the estate more often."

"That’s actually great to hear," I said, genuinely surprised. "I’m glad he’s rejoining the world."

The waiter arrived then, taking our orders and returning shortly after with our meals. As we began to eat, Trudy looked at me over her glasses.

"So, how is work? You look busy."

"It’s good. We’re in the middle of closing a major deal with a top-tier investment firm. I told you about that, right?"

"You didn’t," she said, pausing with her fork halfway to her mouth. "This is the first I’m hearing of it."

I blinked, my mind momentarily stalling as I realized my mistake. "Ah...I must have told Octavia, then."

"Who is Octavia?" Trudy’s tone turned instantly curious.

"She’s...someone I see quite often," I said, trying to keep my voice casual as I focused on my food.

"Someone you see often? Like a girlfriend?"

I shook my head, a dull ache blooming in my chest. "No. Not a girlfriend. She’s taken, Trudy."

"Oh. That’s a shame."

"Yeah," I nodded. "It is."

"So she’s in a relationship? Or is it serious?" 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

"She’s married," I said, finally just laying it out there.

Trudy winced, tilting her head as she studied me with that maternal intuition I could never hide from. "Yikes. Master Clinton...you have feelings for this woman, don’t you?

"

"How do you know?"

"Because you have that exact same look on your face you had when you were fifteen—the day you asked Annie to be your girlfriend and she turned you down."

I gave a dry laugh. "She said she already had a boyfriend. I remember."

"Well," Trudy said, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper, "she lied. She never had a boyfriend back then."

I dropped my fork, staring at her in genuine shock. "Wait, what? She lied? Why would she do that?"

"Don’t blame her, Master Clinton. She wanted to say yes, but I was the one who had given her and her sister those strict rules: no dating until college. She didn’t want to break my heart or yours, so she made up the boyfriend to make the rejection easier. Annie really liked you. She still does, actually."

I stared at Trudy, speechless for a moment. "Trudy, you are unbelievable."

"I’m sorry," she chuckled, though she didn’t look sorry at all.

"It’s alright. You were just being a protective mom. And we were kids—what was she, fourteen?"

"Thirteen, turning fourteen in two months as of then," Trudy corrected.

"Yikes. Okay, now I’m the one who needs to apologize. I was definitely the weird older kid in that scenario."

"It’s fine," Trudy laughed.

"But she told you she was fifteen, didn’t she? That was another lie."

"You two are a piece of work," I said, shaking my head with a grin. "So you’re saying she still asks about me?"

"Every time we speak. She even cyber-stalks you a bit when she’s taking a break from her art. She told me she once accidentally ’liked’ an old photo of yours from years ago and had to unlike it instantly so you wouldn’t get a notification. She was mortified."

"I had no idea," I said, feeling a strange sense of nostalgia. "I should probably reach out, just to say hi. Does she have a new Facebook? The one I have is a ghost town."

"Her old account is dormant," Trudy confirmed. "Her new one is under the name Annabel Oakley Reagan."

"Got it," I said, pulling out my phone to search the name. I was smiling as I opened the app, ready to reconnect with a piece of my childhood, but the smile died the moment the news feed refreshed.

A headline at the top of the page hit me like a physical punch to the stomach: OCTAVIA HERMAN FLEMINGTON, WIFE OF FRANKLIN FLEMINGTON, RUSHED TO HOSPITAL AFTER HORRIFIC WORKPLACE ACCIDENT.

Beneath the text was a blurry thumbnail of a video—a woman on a gurney, surrounded by paramedics.

"What is it?" Trudy asked, her voice dropping as she saw the color drain from my face.

I didn’t answer. I tapped the video frantically, but a message popped up: This content is no longer available. It had been reported and taken down.

"Master Clinton? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"Something happened," I said, my voice tight and breathless as I stood up abruptly. "It’s Octavia."

"The woman you like? What happened?"

"An accident. I... I have to go, Trudy. I have to find her."

"Of course, go," she said, her expression shifting to one of deep concern. "I’ll pray she’s alright. Go check on her."

"Thank you, Trudy. I’m so sorry about lunch," I said, throwing some cash on the table to cover the bill.

"Don’t worry about the lunch! Just go!"

I practically ran out of the diner and onto the sidewalk. I hailed a taxi immediately, my hands shaking so much I almost dropped my phone. My own car was in the shop for an oil change, and the wait for the cab felt like an eternity.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked as I scrambled into the backseat.

"JeffTech. Fast as you can," I barked.

I tried calling Octavia’s cell, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Nothing.

My heart was thundering against my ribs, a cold, sickening dread settling in my gut.

I kept picturing that gurney in the thumbnail, praying with everything I had that the headlines were exaggerating—even though, deep down, I knew they weren’t.