Chapter 283: ~ 282
Chapter 282
~Octavia~
After having a fun time with Clinton and his future wife, Annie yesterday. We retired home.
Today was a special day. Grandpa Frederick had explicitly requested a "bonding day" with his newest great-granddaughter, and I wasn’t about to deny the old man his joy.
It was a bit sunny today. Grandpa Frederick sat comfortably in a large, armchair, a soft, knit blanket draped over his knees. His hands were so gentle as he cradled baby Lael against his chest.
"Look at you," Frederick murmured, his voice dropping into a rare, tender gravel as he looked down at her. "You’ve got the Flemington chin, little one. But thank God you inherited your mother’s eyes. Your father was a brooding, solemn thing from the day he was born."
Standing by the glass doors, Franklin let out a low, amused rumble from his chest, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the scene. A soft, relaxed smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Lael squirmed slightly in her purple onesie, her tiny fingers flailing in the air before miraculously latching onto Grandpa Frederick’s thumb. The old man let out a soft, wheezing chuckle, his eyes crinkling with a profound, quiet happiness.
I leaned against Franklin’s side, wrapping my arm around his waist, soaking in the absolute peace of the moment.
By the afternoon, the sweet atmosphere shifted into something far more serious and that was the beginning of it all.
Flynn had announced earlier that he was heading out into the city for a long lunch and some personal errands, meaning it was just us at home. His absence gave us the perfect window. Adhering strictly to what Franklin and I had discussed earlier in the nursery, we had quietly pulled Grandpa Frederick into the private study, closing the doors behind us to ensure absolute privacy.
Franklin didn’t waste time. With a level, serious voice, he sat down across from his grandfather and laid out the absolute truth about the phone call he had overheard between Flynn and Aunt Maria, how the sweet, remorseful cousin act was nothing more than an intentional means to get on our good side.
Grandpa Frederick listened in total silence. He didn’t interrupt, but as Franklin spoke, I watched the old man’s shoulders sag slightly. His eyes, usually so sharp and piercing, clouded over with a heavy mixture of profound heartbreak and bitter betrayal. He had genuinely wanted to believe his grandson had a part of his mother’s family.
"I see," Frederick said softly, his long fingers tracing the carved wooden armrest of his chair. He let out a long, slow sigh. "The sins of the past always find a way to bleed into the present, don’t they? Don’t worry, Franklin. I will be entirely careful with what I say around him. My lips are sealed. If he is playing a game, he won’t find his answers through me."
"Thank you, Grandpa," Franklin rumbled, his jaw tightening slightly. "I just need you to be safe."
The room fell into silence. Flynn’s deception was out in the open between the three of us, but the underlying root of the malice still made absolutely no sense to me. Why was Aunt Maria so consumed by bitterness? Why was she using her own son as a weapon to dismantle Franklin’s life?
Out of pure, curiosity, I looked between Franklin and Frederick, the question slipping from my lips before I could even stop myself.
"Grandpa..." I started softly, drawing both of their attention. "I can’t help but wonder. What truly happened all those years ago? What really happened between Franklin’s mother and Flynn’s mother? What caused a rift so deep that it’s still poisoning the next generation?"
Franklin shifted in his seat, his dark eyes locking onto his grandfather. He had spent his entire life running the empire, dealing with the aftermath of his mother’s death and his aunt’s exile, but the exact, details of the initial explosion had always been kept in the shadows.
Grandpa Frederick looked down at his hands, his expression twisting into a look of deep, agonizing conflict. He closed his eyes for a long moment, breathing heavily, before he finally looked up, his gaze fixing entirely on his grandson.
"Maybe it is finally time to tell you both what really happened," Frederick said, his voice dropping into a solemn, raspy whisper that instantly made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He looked directly at Franklin, his eyes filled with a raw, bleeding sincerity. "It is better you know the truth, Franklin. Carrying the ghost of a war you don’t understand will only break you."
I leaned forward, my heart pounding against my ribs, the tension in the room suddenly skyrocketing.
Frederick took a deep breath, his knuckles turning white against the wood. "The fallout between your mother, and your aunt, Maria, wasn’t about money. It wasn’t about the power, though that is the lie her family fed to the public to protect the family name."
He paused, looking directly into Franklin’s dark, frozen eyes.
"The truth is, Franklin... your aunt Maria was completely, helplessly in love with your father."
Oh, shit.
The words hung in the air. I honestly was not expecting that. The sudden revelation hit the room with the force of a physical blow.
I sat there, entirely frozen, my jaw dropping slightlyI stared at Grandpa Frederick, my brain frantically trying to process about thirty years of family trauma in a single second. Aunt Maria wasn’t just a bitter, power-hungry sister. She was a woman scorned, driven mad by a twisted, unrequited obsession with the man her identical twin sister had married.
Beside me, Franklin looked shocked too. The color seemed to drain from his face, his lips pressing into a tight, thin line. The truth was hard to hear. I agree.
"My father?" Franklin whispered, his voice dangerously low, vibrating with a raw confusion.
"Yes," Grandpa Frederick nodded weakly, a tear finally tracking down the deep wrinkles of his cheek. "They were identical twin sisters, Franklin. They shared everything growing up. But when your father walked into their lives, he only had eyes for your other. Maria became completely consumed by jealousy. She tried to seduce him, she tried to ruin their marriage, she tried everything to tear them apart because she genuinely believed your father belonged to her. When she failed, her love turned into an absolute, burning hatred for your mother, and eventually, for you."
I sat in the heavy silence, a cold, terrifying chill settling deep into the pit of my stomach as I looked at my husband’s stunned face. The puzzle pieces had finally crashed together, revealing a picture far more dangerous than we had ever anticipated.
But now that Franklin’s mother and father are both dead. What could she want?