Chapter 518 Calliope: You Get Married, Why Can't I Find a Man?
Calliope sat in her office, reviewing portfolios of A-list actresses. When she came across Seraphine's headshot, her secretary leaned in with a hushed warning.
"Ms. Lark, Miss Vey has powerful connections. Word is she's involved with someone influential—the kind of relationship that could lead to marriage."
Someone influential? Calliope's lips curved in a cold smile. That would be Octavius, though his idea of "marriage material" was merely another plaything. She knew his patterns intimately—having finally escaped one marriage, he wouldn't rush into another. His second wedding would be reserved for a strategic alliance, and she certainly had no interest in that role.
After studying the photographs repeatedly, Calliope made her decision. "I want Elowen Driscoll."
Her secretary looked surprised but didn't question the choice. Calliope's relationship with Sarah was legendary throughout the company—they were like sisters—and Calliope's position was unassailable. As for the "influential someone," she trusted Calliope could handle any complications.
Once alone, Calliope closed the files and moved on to other matters, dismissing the decision from her mind. Elowen truly was the superior choice—striking appearance, excellent breeding, and the sophistication to represent luxury brands.
Several days later, Calliope accompanied Oliver to a business dinner. Despite her title as Vice President of Public Relations, she still played the role of shield when toasts became too frequent, and Oliver maintained strict professional boundaries. Fortunately, the Windsor Group's reputation commanded respect, and most guests knew when to stop.
Calliope's competence was undeniable. Since assuming her position, the company's public relations had flourished, earning Oliver's complete satisfaction.
After the guests departed, Oliver lingered to discuss company matters, eventually asking about the endorsement decision. Calliope presented her reasoning for choosing Elowen with such conviction that Oliver, typically indifferent to entertainment industry affairs, was immediately persuaded.
"I'll handle Octavius," he said simply.
The comment revealed that Octavius had been lobbying Oliver on Seraphine's behalf. This time, however, Oliver had chosen to respect Calliope's judgment.
Moved by his trust, she controlled her emotions carefully. "Mr. Windsor, I'll make sure you see that choosing Elowen was absolutely the right decision."
Oliver smiled faintly and departed.
Alone, Calliope remained seated, sobering up from the evening's drinks. Her elevated position felt precarious—she needed to prove herself worthy of it.
Past midnight, she finally gathered her purse and left the business club, descending in the glass elevator as the city's neon lights sprawled below. Her phone rang with a familiar tone—Octavius.
"What do you want?" Her voice carried studied indifference.
His rich, magnetic voice seemed to forget their recent unpleasantness, still calling her by name. "Why are you taking this out on Seraphine? She's just a young woman, and you've ruined a deal that was practically sealed. She's furious with me."
He sounded genuinely exasperated.
Calliope's laugh was ice-cold. "You're mistaken, Octavius. I harbor no personal vendetta against her. I simply believe Elowen better embodies luxury brand values. My choice has nothing to do with whether Seraphine is your current darling, so don't flatter yourself. And stop calling me. We're finished."
She ended the call and stepped from the elevator, only to find Octavius waiting outside with Seraphine at his side, the picture of an intimate couple.
"Calliope." His voice held genuine warmth.
Dressed in an elegant black business suit from the evening's engagement, Calliope looked stunning and formidable. When her driver failed to appear, she checked her watch and made another call, then regarded Octavius with cool composure.
"Unless I'm mistaken, our divorce was finalized."
Octavius maintained his pleasant demeanor. "Let's talk."
Seraphine felt like an outsider but remained silent, too invested in securing the endorsement to voice her discomfort. She stood obediently beside Octavius, waiting for him to work his influence.
Calliope wasn't buying it. With Oliver's backing, she had no need to placate Octavius—especially when the sight of them together disgusted her.
"If this is about the endorsement, my decision stands. Mr. Windsor has approved my recommendation. Elowen is my choice."
The words filled her with satisfaction. This sense of wielding real power was intoxicating—exactly the life she'd envisioned for herself.
Octavius's expression darkened. "You won't give me even this courtesy?"
Her driver arrived at that moment. Calliope walked briskly to the car, her heels clicking against the pavement as she slipped into the backseat. Through the half-lowered window, she appeared regal and untouchable—far more striking than Seraphine.
Years as Mrs. Everhart had cultivated an elegance no entertainment industry starlet could match, enhanced by her naturally exceptional beauty and figure.
In the darkness, Octavius stared at the car's taillights, experiencing an inexplicable sense of loss. He couldn't identify its source, but he knew it wasn't about Seraphine. Irritated, he pulled out cigarettes, lighting one with hands that trembled slightly.
He could have offered Oliver better terms to secure Seraphine's contract, but that would mean completely burning bridges with Calliope. Their relationship was already strained—she refused to see him or let him visit—but a single starlet wasn't worth destroying what remained.
Sometimes he despised her stubborn pride.
Seraphine, however, read the situation clearly. Octavius's heart still belonged to his ex-wife, despite his numerous affairs. His attitude toward Calliope was different—a mixture of love and resentment that was unmistakable.
If she couldn't have the endorsement, she would claim Octavius himself.
Her campaign was masterful. She became impossibly sweet and accommodating, reducing her work schedule to spend time with him. Loneliness made everyone vulnerable, and gradually Octavius grew attached. By early summer, he was seriously considering marriage, visiting Evergreen City twice monthly and practically forgetting Calliope existed.
Calliope, he decided, had always been too difficult. They were incompatible.
On Valentine's Day, Octavius proposed to A-list actress Seraphine in a spectacular public display that sent shockwaves through both entertainment and high society circles. Seraphine had been clever—maintaining a clean romantic history with only two previous relationships and no scandalous rumors.
The media response was overwhelmingly positive:
"Octavius and Seraphine: A Perfect Match"
"True Love Exists in Hollywood"
"Octavius's Proposal Featured an 8-Carat Diamond"
By late May, news of Octavius's impending remarriage dominated headlines. Calliope saw the coverage but remained unaffected. They were divorced, estranged—his romantic choices were no longer her concern. She felt neither blessing nor bitterness.
Instead, she focused on work and caring for Elspeth, whom she'd legally adopted as Elspeth Lark. She planned to move to a house with a proper yard once the child was older, perhaps getting her a puppy.
Naturally, Calliope attracted suitors—younger men drawn to her sophisticated allure, many hoping for marriage. She had no interest in remarrying but enjoyed casual dating, particularly with Pembroke Driscoll, Elowen's younger brother.
At twenty-six, Pembroke stood six-foot-two with sun-kissed skin and a dazzling smile. His physical fitness was exceptional.
On June first, Calliope emerged from a business dinner slightly intoxicated, her head swimming. Pembroke called as she left the private dining room.
"I'm coming out now. Wait in the car," she said, her voice husky from alcohol.
Pembroke felt a little down. Calliope refused to publicize their relationship, insisting they were dating without discussing the future. Though it pained him, Pembroke accepted her terms.
After hanging up, Calliope felt guilty but remained conflicted. Nearly ten years his senior and previously married, she worried about the long-term implications of their age gap and differing life experiences.
She'd barely pocketed her phone when a familiar figure appeared—Octavius, accompanied by Percival for what appeared to be legitimate business, though his smugness suggested recent good fortune.
Spotting her, Octavius approached, stopping just short of arm's length. The alcohol on her breath made him frown. "Drunk again? You were perfectly content as a housewife—why this need to make a spectacle of yourself?"
Calliope ignored his criticism, offering polite congratulations instead. "I heard about your engagement to Seraphine. Best wishes."
Octavius sensed insincerity in her words. Recently indifferent to his ex-wife, he now found himself wanting to provoke jealousy. "She's wonderful—so gentle and caring, incredibly thoughtful."
His smug expression made Calliope's skin crawl. "It's getting late. Goodbye."
As she turned to leave, Octavius followed, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "You'll always be different to me, Calliope. We were each other's first marriage—no one else can compare to that."
Calliope wanted to slap him senseless.
Before she could respond, a young, familiar voice called from behind. "I've been waiting forever—did you run into someone you know?"
Calliope wished the ground would swallow her whole.
Octavius stiffened, turning to assess the newcomer—young, handsome, almost boyish in his appeal.
After a long moment, his gaze returned to Calliope, his voice arctic with disdain, "So you prefer naive little boys now?"