Chapter 270: ~ 269
Chapter 269
~Franklin~
The tires of my SUV shrieked as I pulled into the estate, the engine roaring like a wounded beast.
The drive from work had been a blur of pure panic. Only an hour ago, I had been standing in the smoky hallway of the executive wing, coughing as Julian pointed toward a charred doorway.
"The fire department got it out fast, sir," Julian had told me, his usual pristine suit slightly rumpled. "It started in the minor storage closet. Just an electrical flare-up."
"An electrical flare-up?" I had barked, grabbing him by the shoulder. "In a building with a triple-redundant smart grid? Julian, look at this. It’s too small. It didn’t destroy any core data."
"I know it doesn’t make sense sir," Julian said, adjusting his glasses nervously. "But security is sweeping the perimeter now. No one was hurt, and everything is completely fine. You need to go home."
Clinton had stepped between us then, placing a firm hand on my chest. "Julian is right, Franklin. Take the car and go back to the estate. Go check on Octavia."
I had immediately pulled out my phone to call her, but the screen just spun. Call failed. I tried |again. Voicemail.
"She isn’t picking up," I whispered, my chest tightening with a lethal dose of fear. "Clinton, her number is completely unreachable."
"Don’t panic," Clinton said, his voice dropping into a serious, protective tone.
I left there immediately. I pushed the car to its absolute limits, praying that I wasn’t already too late, that the small fire hadn’t just been a calculated distraction to pull me away from the house.
I slammed the car into park right at the front entrance and sprinted through the heavy double doors of the mansion, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.
The foyer, however, was dead silent.
I took the stairs two at a time, my breath coming in ragged gasps, and pushed open the door to the nursery. The sight inside instantly stopped me in my tracks.
The room was bathed in dim, gentle light. Octavia was sitting in the rocking chair, carefully leaning over the crib. She had just placed baby Lael down, tucking a soft blanket around her tiny shoulders.
Octavia turned her head at the sound of my heavy breathing. She stood up quietly, slipping out of the nursery and closing the door behind her with a soft click.
"Franklin? What’s wrong?" she whispered, rushing over to catch my trembling hands. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What happened?"
"The office," I managed to say, my voice rough as I pulled her into a tight embrace, burying my face in her neck. "Julian called me about a fire in the executive wing. I lost my mind when I couldn’t reach your phone."
Octavia patted my back gently, letting out a soft sigh. "Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t aware it was ringing. We are completely fine. Lael just finished her milk and went straight to sleep."
She pulled back, her brow furrowing as she processed my words. "Wait... a fire in the executive wing?"
"It was a tiny storage room," I told her, my eyes scanning the empty hallway. "It felt timed. It felt like someone wanted me out of this house."
Octavia paused, thinking it over. "A distraction? To pull you away from us? But... Franklin, could it also just be an unforeseen circumstance? An old wire, a computer glitch? Let’s not jump to the conclusions immediately. You’re home now. We are safe."
I didn’t answer. I just nodded, forcing a tight smile to reassure her. "Yeah. Maybe you’re right. Go get some rest, okay? You look exhausted."
"I am," she admitted, giving my hand a soft squeeze. "Don’t stay up too late staring at security monitors, please."
Later that evening, I walked down the long, carpeted hallway toward my private study, intending to pour myself a glass of whiskey.
As I approached the door, I noticed the lights inside were already on.
I pushed the door open and stopped. Flynn was sitting in one of the armchairs near the fireplace. He didn’t have his usual goofy, mocking smirk on his face. He held a glass of liquid in his hand, staring quietly into the room.
"Franklin," Flynn said softly, looking up. He didn’t jump or act defensive. He just gestured to the chair across from him. "Please, sit down. We need to talk. Man to man."
I closed the door behind me, keeping my distance. "What are you doing in my study, Flynn?"
Flynn let out a tired sigh, setting his glass down on the mahogany side table. "I heard about the office fire from the news. And I know exactly what you’re thinking. You think I had something to do with it. You think I’m a monster waiting in the dark to hurt your family."
I kept my face completely blank. "Can you blame me for thinking that?"
"No. I can’t," Flynn replied, shaking his head with a look of genuine maturity. "My mother, Maria... she has a lot of bitterness. A lifetime of it. She has drilled her hatred for your branch of the family into my head since I was a boy."
He stood up slowly, keeping his hands visible, and looked me dead in the eye.
"But I am not my mother, Franklin," Flynn said, his tone carrying a heavy, emotional weight. "I came here, and I saw how much you love Octavia. I saw that tiny, innocent baby girl in the crib. I don’t want any part in a generational war. I don’t want to spend my life fighting a battle that belongs to our parents’ past."
He extended his hand toward me, his expression completely sincere.
"I want a clean slate, cousin. I don’t want your money, and I don’t want your titles. I just want to be a part of a real family. I want to be a good uncle to Lael. Let the hatred die with the older generation. What do you say?"
I stared at his open hand. For the sake of Octavia’s peace, and for a quiet home for Lael, a truce was exactly what we needed.
Cautiously, I extended my hand and shook his. "A clean slate, Flynn. But if you cross the line even once, there won’t be a second chance."
"Fair enough," Flynn smiled softly, releasing my hand. "Thank you, Franklin. That’s all I wanted to hear."
Relieved but still keeping my guard up, I offered a brief nod and stepped out of the study, closing the door firmly behind me. I walked a few paces down the darkened corridor before realizing my hand brushed against an empty pocket. My locker keys. I had left them on the small desk inside the study.
I turned around and walked back down the hallway. I reached the study door and stretched my hand out to turn the knob, but stopped when I noticed the door hadn’t clicked entirely shut. It was cracked open by a mere fraction of an inch.
From inside the room, Flynn’s voice drifted out.
But it wasn’t the warm voice he had just used with me. It was cold, sharp, and he sounded weird as he whispered.
"Don’t worry, Mum..." Flynn murmured into his phone, a low, quiet chuckle escaping his throat. "Yeah, I’ve gotten on his good side."
The air left my lungs in an instant.
The maturity, the emotional speech about his mother, the desire to be a good uncle to my daughter, it was all a beautifully acted lie. A sickening performance to make me lower my defenses.
My knuckles clenched so tightly they turned stark white. I wanted to kick the door off its hinges and tear him apart with my bare hands.
But I forced myself to stop. I took a deep, shaky breath.
If I attacked him now, he would play the victim. Octavia was already so exhausted from the newborn phase, pouring all her energy into keeping our baby healthy. If I told her the truth right now, it would shatter her fragile peace and throw her into a state of constant, terrifying anxiety.
I couldn’t do that to her. I had to protect her, even if it meant carrying this agonizing weight entirely by myself.
Forcing my face into a mask of absolute stone, I quietly stepped back from the door, abandoning my keys. I turned around and walked away into the dark hallway, my heart deeply broken by the betrayal, but my mind sharper than ever.
The truce was a lie. And I would have to play along until I could destroy him completely.