Chapter 252: ~ 252
Chapter 252
~Franklin~
I watched the exact second the blood drained completely from Bella’s face, leaving her looking like a hollow, breaking porcelain doll beneath the blinding flash of a hundred paparazzi lenses. The triumphant, manic smirk she had directed at my wife just moments ago vanished into a vacuum of pure, unadulterated terror.
Miranda didn’t just talk, she destroyed her. Her sharp, aristocratic features were twisted into a mask of cold, calculating fury as she stared down her younger stepsister.
"Did you honestly think you could outsmart me, Bella?" Miranda’s voice carried with a chilling, conversational clarity that cut right through the panicked murmurs of the crowd. "You got greedy. You wanted fame, the press, the public spectacle, and in your pathetic desperation to humiliate Octavia, you brought the entire media spotlight onto a medical claim that doesn’t exist."
"What... what are you talking about?" Bella stammered, her voice cracking as she gripped the marble edge of the VIP terrace, her fingers shaking so violently. "Franklin and I... it’s his baby! It’s the Flemington heir!"
"Shut your mouth, you foolish girl," Miranda hissed, taking another step forward, completely abandoning her normal calm facade. The crowd stared in absolute, breathless shock as Miranda openly exposed the underbelly of her own empire. "The child you are carrying isn’t Franklin’s. You were just played by me. I used you as leverage and I had leverage on you as well."
Miranda turned her icy glare toward the front row of journalists, her voice dropping into a dangerous, dark cadence.
"Through my underground private fertility clinic, a facility you didn’t even realize I owned, I orchestrated a highly specialized medical arrangement with Roderigo, offering him money to sway you. Bella wanted a weapon against the Flemingtons, so I gave her one. I had you drugged and William’s semen injected in you. You thought you were carrying Franklin’s baby, the nurses lied about the week you conceived. Bella didn’t know the truth. She thought she was running the show, but she was just the vessel."
At his table, William suddenly let out a low, mocking smirk, adjusting his lapels as he watched Bella unravel.
But Miranda wasn’t done. Her eyes flashed with a reckless, cornered desperation. She looked up at me, then at the entire board of directors, her chin lifting with a venomous defiance.
"You think you can just cast me aside, Bella? If I go down, I am dragging everyone down with me. My goal was simple: use this fraudulent ’heir’ to completely blackmail the Flemington board, tank your stock, and force a mandatory merger with my luxury wellness conglomerate to save my infrastructure. Bella ruined the execution because she wanted a fairytale ending, but don’t think for a second that your hands are clean!"
"No! No, it can’t be! Never!" Bella started shouting hysterically, her hands flying to her head as she violently shook her head back and forth. The tears were streaming down her face in earnest now, her chest heaving as she screamed at the ceiling. "She’s lying! Miranda is lying! It’s Franklin’s baby! I swear it’s his!"
The ballroom erupted into a den of absolute chaos. Paparazzi were screaming questions, board members were standing up in outrage, and the sheer volume of the noise was deafening.
Instead of letting them crumble alone in their own circus, I stepped forward.
My jaw was set into an unbreakable line of solid granite. I felt no panic. I felt no hesitation. I simply felt the cold, calculated urge of a king reclaiming his court. I reached down, my large palm sliding into Octavia’s, locking our fingers together in an ironclad, fiercely possessive grip. Her hand was steady, her warmth anchoring me as I reached for the podium microphone once again.
When my voice boomed through the advanced audio system, it didn’t just quiet the room, it completely flattened it.
"Silence," I commanded.
The authority in my tone was absolute. The murmurs died instantly. The international press lowered their lenses, entirely captivated by the terrifying calm radiating from my stance.
"We have played along with this pathetic theater for long enough," I spoke into the microphone, my dark eyes locking onto Bella’s trembling form, then shifting to Miranda’s pale face. "Let me clear up the fabrications of these two desperate women once and for all. My marriage to Octavia is not a corporate stunt. We are happily, completely married, and we are currently expecting our own biological child, the only true heir to the Flemington legacy."
I looked down at Octavia, my expression softening for a fraction of a second as I gently pressed my hand over her sweater, showcasing the elegant curve of her stomach to the entire world. The cameras flashed in a frantic, blinding rhythm, capturing the undeniable truth of our unity.
"Furthermore," I continued, my voice dropping into a lethal, dark register that sent a shiver through the room, "Bella’s entire narrative of a tragic heartbreak is a meticulously planned fraud. She didn’t attempt suicide because of her ex. She planned that entire public spectacle with Miranda’s direct financial help, using it as a smoke screen to go into hiding and use it without getting arrested by the police for the crime she committed with Dorian and Anthony."
I raised my free hand and gave a sharp, single nod to the tech booth. "Clinton. Flash the records."
In a split second, the giant digital media displays behind the stage violently shifted. The old, cropped photos of Bella vanished, replaced by high-definition, unredacted legal and financial documents.
"Take a look at the screen," I announced to the international press with terrifying, absolute calm. "What you are seeing are the verified financial wire transfers connecting William directly to Bella’s offshore accounts during the exact weeks she claimed to be incapacitated. Next to that are Miranda’s official corporate bankruptcy filings, proving her luxury conglomerate has been insolvent for months. And finally, the certified DNA fraud records and surveillance footage pulled by Detective Tate, tracking Bella’s exact movements during the entire time she was supposedly missing from the city."
The screens displayed undeniable footage of Bella walking freely into Miranda’s private executive suite, having sex with William, and reviewing the forged medical contracts.
Every single shred of color completely drained from Bella’s face. She looked at the screens, then at the whispering crowd, and finally at me. Her entire reality had just been publicly, completely vaporized in front of the most powerful people in the world.
"What...?" Bella whispered, her voice cracking before a terrifying, savage anger took over her features. "What did you say? No... No!"
She moved close to the terrace railing, her eyes bulging with a manic, unhinged fury that transcended sanity. The wicked smirk she had worn earlier was replaced by a feral, cornered desperation.
"Before anything happens..." Bella screamed, her voice cracking into a raw shriek as she violently reached into her bag.
My breath caught in my throat as her hand emerged, clutching the cold, metallic frame of a small, sleek handgun.
"If I can’t have this happily ever after, then none of you will!" Bella shrieked, her face contorting into absolute madness as she raised the weapon, pointing the barrel straight at the space between Octavia and me.
The ballroom erupted into screams of pure terror, people throwing themselves under tables as security ran forward, but they were too far.
I was completely stunned, but within a millisecond, my brain shut down every single thought I had. The only thing that existed in my universe was Octavia. My wife. My unborn child. The family I had sworn on my life to protect.
Without a single thought for my own safety, I violently threw my body in front of hers. I slammed my hands against her shoulders, shoving her protectively behind the solid mass of my chest, completely shielding her from the weapon.
"Franklin!" Octavia screamed from behind me.
Before I could even register the sound of her voice, the heavy, deafening crack of the gunshot went off, echoing like thunder through the vaulted ceiling of the ballroom.
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