Chapter 251: ~ 251
Chapter 251
~Octavia~
The grand ballroom was beautifully decorated. Almost all elites were present. So far, everything has been going smoothly.
The entire inner circle was present, seated at the prime VIP tables bordering the main stage. Clinton sat with Annie. Further down the line, Victoria, Ava, and Sarah were laughing amongst themselves.
Right at Table Four sat Miranda, in a blue gown. Beside her was William, looking tensed through his expensive suit as his eyes darted nervously toward the stage.
Franklin stood at the center of the stage, his towering, imposing frame immaculate in a custom midnight-black tuxedo. The crowd held its breath, completely captivated by his commanding presence.
"The Flemington Group has always stood on an unbreakable foundation of legacy, innovation, and absolute transparency," Franklin spoke, his dark eyes sweeping over the crowd with a powerful, predatory calm that demanded submission. He gripped the edges of the podium, his posture entirely relaxed and commanding. "We are fully aware of the desperate, fabricated narratives that have been circulating in the tabloids over the past few weeks. Let me be entirely clear to our investors and our guests: any and all media interviews regarding these baseless rumors will be formally attended to at a later date. Tonight, we celebrate first."
Then applause followed. Franklin turned, prepared to step off the stage and return to my side. I stood at the edge of the raised VIP terrace, smoothing down the front of my gown that subtly hid my small baby bump, ready to lock hands with him.
Then, the massive double doors of the grand ballroom didn’t just open, they violently burst apart.
"A future built entirely on lies!" a sharp, hysterical voice shrieked, the sound tearing through the microphone feedback and causing half the guests to cover their ears.
A collective, suffocating shock ripped through the room. The applause died instantly, replaced by a heavy, stunned silence as Bella marched down the center aisle. She was a vision of absolute, manic drama.
Tears streamed down her face, ruining her heavy makeup, and her chest heaved as she pointed a trembling, manicured finger straight at the stage.
"Don’t let him walk away!" Bella sobbed dynamically, her voice rising to a frantic pitch as she turned her face toward the sea of international journalists stationed behind the gold barriers. The paparazzi instantly went wild, their cameras flashing.
"The public deserves the truth! The board deserves to know who they are dealing with! I was dating Franklin for years! This entire marriage between him and Octavia is a fake, fabricated corporate stunt! He used her shamelessly to secure his position as the chairman, and he doesn’t love her! They are living a lie, and I am sure they have not even consummated their marriage!"
"What is the meaning of this? Security, clear the floor!" Frederick hissed loudly from his table, standing up so fast. But his voice was completely drowned out. The press swarm had already broken through the velvet ropes, entirely captivated by the explosive theater unfolding right in front of them.
"Look at the digital screens if you don’t believe me!" Bella screamed, waving her phone frantically at the tech booth.
Suddenly, the giant digital media displays behind the stage flashed to life, completely overriding the logos. Dozens of old, heavily cropped photographs of Bella and Franklin from years ago filled the room, showing them close together in various high-end lounges. The whispers inside the ballroom grew into a roaring thunder of speculation.
"And that’s not all!" Bella wailed, turning her venomous gaze directly toward me. "Octavia isn’t the innocent victim here! She has been plotting with Miranda behind closed doors, using my own desperate ex-boyfriend and making me stage a pathetic, fake suicide attempt just to extort the Flemington Group and secure her own power over the board!"
Bella walked entirely up to the VIP terrace, her face contorting into a heavy, pitiful sob for the cameras. She paused for maximum dramatic effect, and then, she violently smoothed her hands down the crimson fabric of her dress, intentionally pushing the fabric tight against her body to reveal the unmistakable, swelling curve of her baby bump.
"I am carrying Franklin Flemington’s child!" Bella shouted, her voice echoing through the vaulted ceiling as she looked at the front row of journalists. "I am carrying the true, biological heir to the Flemington empire, and they are trying to erase me from history! They are trying to hide the baby!"
Beside me, Franklin didn’t flinch. His jaw was clenched into solid stone, his dark eyes burning with a lethal, absolute finality. He didn’t look at the screens, and he didn’t look at the whispering crowd. Instead, his large, warm hand clamped securely around mine, his fingers anchoring into my skin with a, possessive grip that told me everything I needed to know. We stood shoulder-to-shoulder, completely unmoved by the hurricane of her desperate lies.
Bella stepped even closer, her heels clicking against the low marble ledger of our private terrace. The pity and distress on her face instantly vanished for a fraction of a second, completely hidden from the cameras as she gave me a wicked, triumphant smirk. She leaned over the railing, her voice dropping into a low, venomous purr that was completely buried beneath the roar of the press.
"I told you I’d take your crown, Octavia," Bella whispered, her eyes flashing with a manic, victorious light. "Look around you. It’s over. You lose."
I looked back at her, my expression completely serene, a dangerous calm settling over my features. But before I could even open my mouth to speak, a sharp, terrifyingly calm laugh cut through the heavy silence from the direction of Table Four.
"Really? Is that so?"
Miranda stood up slowly from her seat, smoothing down her velvet gown as she stepped away from her seat. She walked toward the terrace with a slow, predatory elegance, her expression radiating a cold, mocking amusement that made the entire ballroom hold its breath.
Miranda stopped just a few feet away, her sharp eyes locking onto Bella’s swelling stomach with a terrifyingly wicked smile.
"Are you entirely sure you are carrying the Flemington’s heir, Bella?" Miranda asked, her voice dropping into a clear, conversational purr that carried flawlessly across the quiet room.
Bella’s smirk instantly froze, her face draining of all color as she snapped her head around to glare at her older stepsister.
The trap had just collided with another trap. Shit was about to go down.
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