Chapter 19
~ Octavia ~
The silence of the Flemington estate had begun to echo in my bones, so I decided to visit my parents. It had been weeks since we had looked each other in the eye—not since the hollow spectacle of the wedding. We sat in their familiar dining room, the clinking of silverware against fine china the only rhythm to a conversation that felt more like a business transaction than a family reunion.
"The debt is being paid off gradually," my father announced, his voice carrying a lightness I hadn't heard in years.
He didn't look at me; he looked at the expensive vintage wine on the table. "All thanks to Franklin. The man is a man of his word."
"That's good news," I said, my voice flat.
I spent more time rearranging the peas on my plate than actually eating. The food tasted like cardboard.
My mother, ever the observer of social graces and appearances, set her fork down. "Octavia, darling, are you quite alright? You look pale."
