Chapter 522 Octavius Regrets: Calliope, Forgive Me 2
After sending the letter, Octavius could neither eat nor sleep, consumed by anticipation for Calliope's reply.
Percival was away for two days on his mission. He successfully reached Calliope, who received him in an elegant morning room. It was late summer, and she had just awakened from an afternoon nap—her dress casual, her manner languid, yet clearly thriving in her new life.
Percival understood immediately that his journey had been in vain, but he pressed on with diplomatic grace.
Calliope opened the gift box to reveal a fresh maple leaf alongside an exquisite set of pigeon-blood ruby jewelry that clearly cost tens of millions. She glanced down with a faint smile. "What's Octavius thinking, sending this? Shouldn't he be saving for his wedding?"
"From what I can see," Percival replied honestly, "his engagement to Miss Vey appears to be dissolving."
"That's hardly my concern." Her smile grew cooler. "I won't accept these gifts, nor will I entertain any reconciliation."
Percival quickly produced Octavius's letter, requesting she read it.
Calliope took the letter. She read the passionate plea twice, her composure wavering slightly. Despite their separation, she couldn't remain entirely unmoved by such heartfelt words. Memories flooded back—both beautiful and painful—creating a tumult of emotions.
Slowly, she placed the letter face-down on the walnut table and slid it toward Percival. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her voice roughened with emotion. "Take everything back to him. Tell him I don't regret our past, but I won't accept his future."
The weight of her sorrow overwhelmed her composure.
Percival, who had witnessed their marriage's collapse, felt moved to intervene gently. "Perhaps you might reconsider? This past month, Octavius has thought of nothing but you. Even walking in the garden, he points to plants and says, 'Calliope planted that.' Harmony City holds so many beautiful memories of your life together."
"Those are his delusions," Calliope said, collecting herself. She would not be swayed.
Percival returned home empty-handed to find Octavius waiting anxiously for news. That evening, he delivered Calliope's message and returned the expensive gifts. "I'm afraid there's no hope for reconciliation, sir. Perhaps it's time to move forward."
Under the crystal chandelier, Octavius slumped in defeat. After a long silence, he drew out a cigarette with a bitter laugh. "Move forward? I don't even know which direction that is anymore."
The rejection devastated him. After years of marriage, he had lost Calliope to a young rival, and the humiliation consumed him like a disease.
By month's end, he fell seriously ill with a fever that spiked to 103 degrees and refused to break for three days, alarming doctors and nurses alike. Percival summoned Octavius's fiancée Seraphine, hoping feminine care might heal his emotional wounds.
Seraphine threw herself into the role with calculated devotion. As his betrothed, she maintained a bedside vigil while orchestrating media coverage of their "devoted romance," hinting at an imminent wedding announcement.
She courted publicity by day and tended to Octavius by night.
Delirious with fever, Octavius drifted through dreams of his happiest moments with Calliope—especially their wedding day, when white doves had alighted on her shoulders in the cathedral, pure as fresh snow.
Overwhelmed by grief, he called out repeatedly in his delirium: "Calliope... Calliope, Calliope..."
Seraphine, leaning close to wipe his brow, heard every tortured whisper of his ex-wife's name. Her patience finally snapped. She threw down her cloth in fury. "You bastard, Octavius!"
In his fevered state, he mistook her voice for Calliope's. He pulled her into a desperate embrace, eyes still closed, pleading passionately, "Calliope, you came back to me, didn't you? You couldn't bear to stay away, could you? I'm still first in your heart, aren't I?"
"You're first in mine too, Calliope. No matter how many women I've had, no matter how young or beautiful they were, none possessed your tenderness and passion. Come back to me!"
He cupped her face and kissed her frantically, but when passion cleared his vision, he found himself staring into Seraphine's icy glare instead of Calliope's loving eyes.
The crushing disappointment drained him completely. He collapsed back onto the pillows, his spirit broken.
In that moment, he made his decision. He would break his engagement to Seraphine immediately, then travel north to win back Calliope himself. He couldn't endure another moment of this torment—he had suffered enough for love.
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