Chapter 527 Octavius: Calliope, Let's Start Over!
He couldn't tear his gaze away.
That single tear glimmered in his memory, a silent reproach that would follow him through the years. He never remarried. In the end, it was solitude that kept him company—her absence echoing through every quiet room, every unshared morning.
After a long moment of silent regard, Calliope spoke first. "Give me the child."
Though his heart grew heavy with sorrow, Octavius gently placed the child in her arms, his voice tender as he tried to win her favor. "She's beautiful, Calliope. We could start over—raise Elspeth together. As my daughter, she'd want for nothing. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
"I'm willing to lay everything at your feet now," he continued, his words earnest and pleading. "Just give me a chance."
His sincerity was unmistakable, yet Calliope found herself thinking that had she never been his wife, she might have been moved by such a charismatic man's devotion. But she had been married to him for years—she knew his true nature all too well. To him, she had been nothing more than an accessory, never worthy of genuine respect. What did he mean by offering her everything?
Under the brilliant chandelier light, Calliope held the child with an expressionless face. "What if I demanded your life?"
Octavius froze. He had never imagined she would ask for that—the one thing he couldn't give.
Calliope smiled faintly and carried the child upstairs.
In the years that followed, Octavius would regret this moment countless times, wishing he hadn't held back. But regret was useless now. All he could do was wait for her return, day after day, year after year.
In the second-floor sitting room, the servants brought dinner—an elaborate spread of nourishing foods for a woman's health. Finally, they brought a small children's meal, and the servant smiled as she explained, "The master prepared this specially for Miss Lark himself! He rarely cooks, you know."
Calliope held Elspeth close, saying nothing. She felt no gratitude whatsoever. Octavius had destroyed her life and her future—these gestures only disgusted her.
Seeing her cold expression, the servant quickly retreated.
Not wanting to frighten Elspeth, Calliope maintained her gentle demeanor while caring for the child, coaxing her to eat and praising her as mama's good little girl. The sight of her tender attention to the child was genuinely touching.
Octavius stood in the doorway, watching silently.
When Calliope looked up, a chill settled over the room.
He approached and sat beside them with familiar ease. "Are you enjoying your dinner, Elspeth? If you enjoy it, daddy will cook for you every day."
Elspeth loved the mashed potatoes and seemed fond of Octavius, though the shy little girl kept hiding in her mother's embrace.
"Don't flatter yourself," Calliope said coldly.
Octavius smiled, though it seemed forced. Despite his attentive care, something in his heart seemed to foretell their inevitable end. Calliope had never been one to compromise herself.
Did he regret it? Not at this moment. Love, after all, was meant to be reckless—a moth drawn to the flame. If you didn't love to the point of ruin, could it really be called love?
Calliope found herself unable to leave, staying with Elspeth under Octavius's care. He treated them with extraordinary kindness. He bought her skincare products, and, knowing her fondness for qipao, had Evergreen City's best tailor design a wardrobe for every season.
He cooked every meal for Elspeth and patiently taught her to speak and walk. Over time, Elspeth grew attached to him, sometimes wobbling toward him, her cherubic face lit up with delight, before tumbling into his arms.
The warmth of her little body melted his heart, making him want to give her everything.
Octavius had come to see Elspeth as his own daughter. Maybe it was his age, he thought—he was finally ready to embrace the joys of family life.
A week later, on a rainy autumn evening, the master bedroom was quiet, save for the gentle sound of Elspeth's breathing as she slept. Octavius sat nearby, a storybook in his hands.
The rain tapped steadily at the windows as Calliope stepped out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a robe. She looked surprised to see him, but kept her usual composure. "Aren't you going to your own room?"
She sat at her vanity and began her evening skincare routine.
Octavius set the storybook aside and moved behind her, gently wrapping his arms around her. They hadn't been close these past few days—not for lack of wanting on his part. The thought had kept him up at night. Now, he longed for the intimacy they once shared as husband and wife.
Calliope set down her skincare products abruptly. "Get out," she said icily.
Undeterred by her rejection, Octavius continued to coax her gently. Calliope resisted at first, but eventually turned off the lights, worried she might wake Elspeth.
In the dim light, Calliope looked fragile, tears shimmering in her eyes. A wave of sorrow washed over her. When she had loved Octavius, he had only seen her as a suitable wife. Now that her love was gone, he clung to her, unwilling to let go. Octavius had become a burden she could never escape.
Just as passion threatened to overwhelm them, Octavius's phone rang. He tried to ignore it, but the ringing wouldn't stop. At last, with obvious irritation, he reached for his trousers, grabbed the phone, and answered, "What the hell do you want?"
It was Percival, his voice urgent. "We have a situation. You need to come back right now. Something went wrong with the East District project—someone's dead."
Octavius looked down at the woman glistening with perspiration beneath him.
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