Chapter 112
Chapter 112
The dark room was perfectly still.
Holden slept soundly on the bed. Octavia sat beside him, her expression tangled with emotions she couldn't name.
Love me, love my dog. Holden adored Yvaine—and by extension, everyone in Yvaine's orbit.
She closed her eyes, the scene from the kitchen replaying behind her lids—Holden's accusing little voice, his righteous indignation on behalf of a woman who was tearing their family apart. A bitter smile ghosted across Octavia's lips. She couldn't identify exactly what she was feeling, but her chest ached with a deep, nameless pain.
She pressed a hand to her heart, then quietly rose. She slipped out of the room without a sound.
A servant stood at the end of the hallway. Seeing Octavia, she approached. "Mrs. Grimaldi, are you staying tonight? Should I prepare things for you?"
The master bedroom had already been emptied. Only bare furniture remained.
If Octavia wanted to stay, they'd need to bring up fresh bedding and toiletries.
Octavia shook her head. "No, thank you. I'm going back."
What was there to stay for? She'd only be a punchline. With her jaw set and her spine straight, she walked out, got in her car, and drove back to her own place.
---
It was a sleepless night. Dreams came in relentless waves—fragments of the past she couldn't escape.
She'd raised Holden with her own hands when he was little. But as he grew older, she'd started traveling constantly for work. Every year, she was either on a business trip or on her way to one.
"Mommy, I miss you so much. When are you coming home?"
"All the other kids have their moms and dads with them. I'm the only one who doesn't. When are you coming back?"
"Forget it. Don't bother coming back. I'm having plenty of fun. It's fine if you don't come home."
The bond between mother and son had shifted, degree by degree. Daily phone calls gave way to reluctance, then impatience. Eventually, when she called, Holden simply didn't want to talk.
Octavia jolted awake in the darkness, gasping for air. The night pressed in around her, and tears streamed down her face before she could stop them.
She'd braced herself for this separation. She thought she was ready. But facing it head-on still cracked something open inside her.
Thora was in the hospital, and her own son had come to interrogate her about it.
How absurd.
She had an important meeting in the morning. Octavia lay flat on the bed and willed herself to sleep. After tossing for what felt like an eternity, she gave up and swallowed a sleeping pill.
---
Morning.
Octavia arrived at the office building with flawless makeup in place. She was pulling into her parking spot when a luxury car glided to a stop nearby.
Yvaine stepped out, turning to wave at whoever was still inside the car.
Octavia glanced over, then looked away. She got out and walked toward the entrance—only to find Yvaine heading the same way.
Their eyes met.
Yvaine tugged at her collar, deliberately exposing the trail of suggestive marks along her neck.
"Last night—you saw what happened to the bedroom, didn't you?" Yvaine tilted her chin up, chest out, dripping with arrogance. Every word was a provocation.
Octavia nodded calmly. "I did. I have to hand it to you, though. You're just like your mother—always coveting what belongs to someone else. Tell me, is other people's property really that appealing?"
"You think you're in any position to say that?" Yvaine's eyes flashed. "Don't forget—you're the one who stole Ignatius in the first place. If it weren't for you, he and I would've been together. We were meant to be."
Every word was designed to wound. Yvaine watched Octavia with keen anticipation, clearly expecting a breakdown.
She was destined for disappointment.
Octavia smiled faintly. "What happened back then—do you really think I know nothing about it?"
Noticing curious glances from nearby coworkers, Octavia stepped closer to Yvaine and leaned toward her ear, lowering her voice. "Did he truly have to have you, and only you? Or let me put it another way—even if he'd agreed, would his family have approved?"
Years ago, when it all happened, Octavia had been consumed by guilt—believing she was the one who'd torn Ignatius and Yvaine apart. That guilt had haunted her for years, a weight she could never set down.
But now, standing outside the situation at last, she was seeing the cracks in the story. The pieces didn't fit.
If Yvaine and Ignatius's love had truly been as deep and destined as everyone claimed—practically a done deal, a wedding just around the corner—then why had Jasper gone to such elaborate lengths to scheme against her and Ignatius?
And something else had shaken Octavia to the core: from the day she married into the family, she'd noticed that Mason and the rest of the Grimaldis had never been particularly fond of Yvaine.
So after all these years, Octavia had come to suspect that the chance of those two naturally ending up together had always been zero.
At the mention of the past, something shifted in Yvaine's eyes. But she doubled down, stubborn and combative. "You stole what was mine. That makes you the homewrecker. And now you have the nerve to stand here and slander me? You're shameless."
"I'd watch what you say. The truth has a way of coming out eventually. What's real can't be faked, and what's fake can't hold up forever. Besides—if what I said were really a lie, why would it shake you like this?"
Octavia turned and walked away without another glance at Yvaine's livid face.
---
Back in her office, Octavia settled into her chair and narrowed her eyes.
What she'd said out there had been speculation—a calculated probe, thrown out while Yvaine's guard was down.
But she hadn't expected the reaction she got. There really was more to what happened back then.
She closed her eyes, reaching back through the years, and her body trembled with a rage she couldn't contain. The taste of being manipulated was vile beyond words.
Fresh out of college, she'd been at the top of her game—her professor's star student. She'd planned to continue her education, maybe even launch a business on the side. Build something of her own.
Jasper destroyed all of it.
A dinner party. A drugged drink. When she woke up, she was in bed with Ignatius—and the whole world knew.
Dazed and naive, barely more than a girl, she'd been pushed along by forces she couldn't resist. Every decision made for her.
Years of sleepwalking through a marriage followed. Now that she'd finally clawed her way out, she could see just how many things didn't add up.
---
Across town.
Yvaine hadn't gone to work. She'd turned around and gone straight to the hospital.
When mother and daughter came face to face, Thora looked confused. "What are you doing here? I told you to focus on your career. You're about to launch your own company—you need to be building experience and connections. You can't depend on Ignatius forever."
"Enough about work. I have it under control." Yvaine cut her off. "I'm here about something else. Are you absolutely sure no one will ever talk about what happened back then?"
Seeing that Thora still wasn't catching on, Yvaine sighed. "This morning, Octavia—"
She laid out the entire encounter. By the time she finished, Thora's face had gone white. Her flash of anger tugged at the wound on her face, making her wince. Agitation twisted her features.
"Relax. I covered every track perfectly back then. Besides, the critical parts were your father's doing. It has nothing to do with us."
"But what if? What if someone digs up evidence?"
All three of them—Yvaine, Thora, Jasper—knew exactly what had happened. The scheme had been born of desperation.
Yvaine and Ignatius had been engaged. But as the wedding drew near, it became painfully clear that the Grimaldi family didn't approve of her. They'd already decided to require a prenuptial agreement.