Chapter 212

Chapter 212

When they arrived at the hospital, Octavia pushed open the door to find Leopold half-reclined in bed, a laptop open in front of him displaying Obelon Media's stock price chart.

The line plunged downward—even steeper than Octavia had anticipated.

"You saw?" Octavia walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"With Imogen's scandal, the Obelon Group's stock price couldn't hold." Leopold turned the laptop toward her. "Right now is your best chance to take back your mother's company. Miss this window, and it'll be hard to get another opportunity like it."

Octavia stared at that green line on the screen, an indescribable feeling welling up inside her.

She'd investigated for so long, worked so hard—Marshall had framed her, Emily had schemed against her, Imogen had crushed her at every turn. She'd nearly lost Leopold too.

Now the opportunity finally lay before her, yet somehow it felt unreal.

"I'll have Sierra prepare," she said. "The acquisition proposal should be ready in the next couple days."

Leopold nodded without speaking.

Octavia lowered her head, staring at her own fingers.

Her fingers were thin, the knuckles prominent, nails clipped short. These hands had done many things—thrown punches, signed contracts—yet right now they trembled slightly.

"What's wrong?" Leopold asked.

"Nothing." Octavia tucked her hands into her pockets. "It just feels surreal. I've waited for this day for so long, and now that it's actually here, I'm a little scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared something will go wrong again. Scared someone will jump out to block my path. Scared I've finally made it this far, only to get kicked back down at the last second."

Leopold reached out and grasped her hand, pulling it from her pocket and cradling it in his palm.

Her hand was cold; his palm was warm, completely enveloping hers.

"It won't happen," he said. "This time, I'm here to help you."

Octavia looked up at him, her eyes crinkling with a smile.

"So how exactly do you plan to help me?"

This would've been the perfect moment for sweet words, but Leopold answered seriously.

"The Seymour Group will invest in the Obelon Group—capital injection and acquisition. You'll buy back shares as the Boleyn Family daughter. Two approaches running parallel, leaving the Obelon Family no room to recover."

As Octavia listened, warmth flooded through her chest.

Leopold's help had never been just empty words.

From the very first day she'd come to the Seymour Family, he'd been helping her—investigating the truth about her parents, finding evidence against Marshall, and now helping her reclaim the Obelon Group.

He'd never asked for anything in return, hadn't even demanded a proper thank you.

Yet long before she'd ever made a request, he'd already been standing firmly on her side.

"Leopold," she called softly.

"Mm."

"Why are you so good to me?"

Leopold looked at her, the corner of his mouth curving upward. "You're my wife. Isn't being good to you what I should do?"

Octavia's nose tingled. She lowered her head, burying her face in his palm and nuzzling against it.

"When did you get so smooth with words?"

Leopold chuckled softly. "Learned from you."

Octavia laughed, lifting her head.

She looked at his face—those eyes that could finally focus on her, lips no longer pressed into that tight, cold line that kept everyone at a distance. He was looking at her and smiling, so gently.

Octavia suddenly wanted very much to kiss him.

She leaned forward, moving closer to his face, closing her eyes.

"Octavia! Octavia, get out here!"

Monica's voice came from outside the hospital room—shrill and urgent, growing louder as she approached. Octavia jerked back in alarm.

Leopold's eyes went cold as he looked toward the door.

The door burst open and Monica rushed in, her face flushed bright red, trembling with anger. She didn't even notice Leopold's severe expression.

"Claire is causing absolute chaos at the house—crying and screaming. I told her to leave and she won't go! She insists on seeing you. I said you weren't there and she didn't believe me—she's tearing through the whole house, ransacked my room!"

Octavia's expression turned cold. "She's still at the Seymour Family house?"

"Yes! Refusing to leave, saying it's her home, that she's Mrs. Seymour. She's not even worthy of being a Seymour Family maid!"

Monica's voice cracked with anger. "You need to come back and get rid of her, or I'm going to handle it myself!"

Octavia stood up, glancing at Leopold. "I'll go back."

Leopold nodded. "Have John go with you."

When Octavia arrived back at the Seymour Family house, she could hear crying from the living room before she even stepped inside—a deliberate, performative kind of heartbreak, as if afraid no one would hear.

Claire knelt in the center of the living room, hair disheveled, makeup long since ruined, eyes swollen and red, nose bright pink. She looked utterly wretched.

Crumpled tissues littered the floor in front of her. Beside her sat an open suitcase, clothes inside jumbled into chaos.

Patrick stood at the foot of the staircase, arms crossed, watching her expressionlessly. Several housekeepers huddled by the kitchen doorway, not daring to come out.

"Octavia!" The moment Claire saw Octavia enter, she crawled over and grabbed onto Octavia's legs, sobbing breathlessly. "Octavia, I was wrong! I was so wrong! I shouldn't have listened to what people told me, shouldn't have made that video, shouldn't have said those things to hurt you. Please forgive me! I'm your sister—we're twins! We grew up together! You can't just abandon me—"

Octavia looked down at her without speaking.

Claire cried harder, tears streaming down her face, her grip on Octavia's pant leg tightening.

"Octavia, I know you hate me, but I really had no other choice! Imogen said if I didn't do what she told me, she'd kill me! I was scared, I was so scared. Octavia, please save me. You can't abandon me. Mom and Dad are gone—you're all I have left."

Octavia looked at that face so similar to her own, feeling once again that familiar exhaustion.

Only this time, the exhaustion wouldn't bring her sadness anymore.

So Claire still remembered they were each other's only family.

"Claire, are you finished?"

Claire froze, looking up at her.

"You said you only have me left, right? Well, when you framed me, did you think about how you only had me left? When you had Monica drag me back to marry in your place, did you think about how you only had me left? When you made that video crying online about how I imprisoned you and stole your identity, did you think about how you only had me left?"

"Did you ever think that you're all I have left too?"