Chapter 520 Octavius, I Wish You Happiness
He must have been drunk.
Perhaps he was simply too angry—how else could he have said what came next? His fingers traced her cheek as he spoke in a low voice: "You must be feeling quite satisfied right now, Calliope. Think you've gotten your revenge."
He shrugged with a bitter laugh. "You're deluding yourself.
"I only came to see you and deliver an invitation. Seraphine and I are getting married—she's young, beautiful, sweet, and understanding. I couldn't be happier!
"Why would I cling to the past?
"Pine for your aging face, or enjoy having male doctors examine my backside? Calliope, I'm not insane."
Calliope lowered her gaze, hiding the tears in her eyes. "She won't dare question your carousing, just like I used to. Octavius, we parted amicably—there's no need for this ugliness. If you're here with an invitation, then I wish you and Seraphine every happiness."
Her grace only twisted the knife deeper in Octavius's chest. He fumbled through his pockets for several moments but found no invitation.
In the dim light, he took one last look at her.
Had the lights been bright, had he seen her tears in that moment, perhaps their story would have ended differently. He might have softened, called her name tenderly, declared he wouldn't go through with the wedding after all.
But the darkness concealed them from each other, and years of companionship were forgotten in his desire to wound. He left.
Walking through the master bedroom on his way out, he saw Elspeth still sleeping peacefully, her milky infant scent soothing his frayed nerves. He remembered lying in this very bed, comforting the baby while waiting for Calliope. The child wasn't so troublesome after all—she was actually quite endearing.
His eyes were bloodshot, his composure shattered. His emotions churned in turmoil. They had shared so many years together.
He wasn't the only one suffering—Calliope was in agony too.
In love's cruel game, no one escapes unscathed. She slid down from the vanity, switched on the lights, and turned to face herself in the mirror, gripping the counter for support.
Pale and hollow-eyed, puffy from crying—she looked every bit her age, stripped of any glamour.
Her lips trembled as she began splashing cold water on her face, thinking, 'I can't let myself fall for anyone again. Love only brings pain. Wasn't once enough? I gave everything to a man, and now I see the result. He's about to marry someone else, yet he still won't let me go—he still finds ways to humiliate me. Isn't that enough?'
Her phone rang. Afraid of waking Elspeth, she answered it in the bathroom.
It was Pembroke.
"Hello."
Her voice was husky, particularly alluring to the young man in the late hour. Pembroke paused before asking gently, "You've been crying? He came to see you?"
Calliope's congested voice managed a soft "Yes."
Silence stretched between them.
Suddenly Pembroke said, "My family is uncomplicated. My parents are worldly and progressive—they won't interfere with whom I choose to be with or whether we have children. Calliope, I'm serious about this. I want to build a happy future with you."
His voice dropped lower, "Let me come to you. Please?"
It was presumptuous at such a late hour, but he couldn't bear the thought of her crying alone.
Sitting on the bathroom floor in her vulnerability, being treated with such tenderness was impossible to resist. She agreed almost without thinking.
Pembroke immediately grabbed his keys, speaking softly as he headed out. "Don't hang up. I'll stay with you."
He drove fast through the night, the early summer breeze carrying the scent of new love.
Half an hour later, a black Range Rover glided through the gates, passing a black Bentley in the darkness. Pembroke didn't notice Octavius, but Octavius saw him clearly.
In the quiet night, Octavius sat smoking in his car, watching lights bloom in the house as the young man entered to comfort her.
Octavius observed in silence, his white shirt billowing in the breeze despite being sheltered in the car.
For the first time, he truly grasped that another man had taken his place in Calliope's life.
But she was still his wife!
When they divorced, he'd let go easily, secretly confident she would return. On New Year's Day, when she'd sent that invitation, he'd been secretly pleased but refused to accept, assuming a divorced woman in her thirties would have no better options.
He'd believed that even if he remarried, she would wait.
How wrong he'd been.
She truly could let go, could open her heart to someone new.
His eyes burned with unshed tears, his vision blurring.
Regret consumed him, but he'd already announced his engagement to Seraphine. Besides, Calliope had moved on. His pride wouldn't allow him to beg for reconciliation.
Throughout June, he threw himself into work in Harmony City, barely seeing Seraphine, who grew increasingly resentful. She secretly investigated his whereabouts but found no evidence of other women, which reassured her.
In July, business called him to Evergreen City for Elliot Windsor's first birthday celebration—a grand affair he couldn't miss.
Calliope naturally received an invitation as well.
That month, she'd begun officially dating Pembroke, who respected her completely. He'd told his parents about their relationship and arranged a dinner meeting. As he'd promised, the Sharp family was indeed open-minded, and with Elowen's approval of Calliope, they welcomed the match.
That evening, Calliope wore a silk nightgown, her body soft and relaxed as she opened the gift box from the Windsors. Besides the invitation, there was a birthday present for Elspeth. Though Elliot's party would also mark Elspeth's first birthday—the children were born nearly simultaneously—Elspeth's circumstances made a public celebration inappropriate.
Sarah, not wanting the child to feel neglected, had thoughtfully prepared a gift. Her genuine affection for Elspeth moved Calliope deeply.
She planned to attend the party with Pembroke, officially introducing their relationship to society.
The evening of the celebration arrived quickly. At six o'clock, she'd just finished dressing and applying makeup when a car pulled into the courtyard.
From the balcony, she saw a black Maybach, and Pembroke emerging in a crisp white shirt beneath an elegant black suit that made him appear distinguished and surprisingly mature.
Looking up, he spotted Calliope on the balcony in a flowing lavender gown, her lustrous dark hair swept up, the evening breeze making her seem like a rose swaying in the wind—gorgeous and untouchable.
Pembroke watched her for a long moment before retrieving white roses from the car, though he found them pale compared to Calliope's beauty. After months of courtship, his infatuation had only deepened.
Dating couples were naturally affectionate, and Pembroke proved an ardent lover. Calliope responded warmly, and over time their age difference seemed to disappear, replaced by remarkable harmony. Both treasured what they'd found.
Tonight, Calliope would give him what he most desired—public acknowledgment of their relationship.
At the Hotel, Oliver was at the height of his success. Everyone in Evergreen City wanted his favor, so the planned hundred tables had expanded to one hundred twenty. Some guests were strangers even to Oliver.
Elliot's birthday gifts formed a small mountain in the storage room, where Sarah and Zoey catalogued each present—since every gift was a social debt to be repaid, they had to keep track of who gave what.
Their notebook filled dozens of pages. When finished, Sarah sighed to Zoey, "I should tell Oliver that small children don't need such elaborate celebrations. It's exhausting and thankless."
Zoey agreed wholeheartedly.
Closing the notebook, Sarah laughed, "He just wants to show off his precious son. Every night he comes home calling 'Grogbert, Grogbert.' I've told him countless times to use 'Elliot,' but he won't listen."
Zoey was speechless.
Just then, Oliver entered carrying two gift boxes. Impeccably dressed, his striking features drew admiring glances wherever he went—though Zoey remained immune to his charms.
Recognizing the boxes' significance and sensing the couple needed privacy, she tactfully withdrew.
Once alone, Oliver handed Sarah the boxes.
He said softly, "From Isabella. She came personally but didn't get out of the car."
Sarah said nothing, carefully opening the boxes to reveal identical birthday gifts—one clearly meant for Elspeth.
Elspeth was Nicholas's child, and Isabella hadn't forgotten her.
Sarah lifted a jeweled pendant, her heart heavy with thoughts of Nicholas in his monastery retreat.
Understanding her emotions, Oliver stepped forward and drew his wife into his arms, murmuring, "A client mentioned seeing Nicholas recently. He was tending flowers in the monastery garden and seemed at peace."
Sarah fought back tears. "It's summer now. The winter flowers have long since fallen."
Oliver held her against his shoulder, and after a moment, looked down at her with tender eyes: "Sarah, next spring the flowers will bloom again."
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
