Contract Marriage After a Crazy Night

Chapter 169: ~ 169

Chapter 169

~ Franklin ~

We touched down in Bogotá, Colombia, just as the sun began to dip behind the mountains. The private terminal was efficient and quiet, exactly how I preferred it. A sleek black SUV waited on the tarmac to take us to Las Estrellas, one of the city’s most exclusive five-star hotels. The name meant "The Stars," and the place lived up to it—towering glass, panoramic views, and an atmosphere of understated luxury.

We settled into our suites on the top floor. After a quick shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist and stepped into the bedroom. My phone rang on the nightstand. For a fleeting second, hope flared in my chest. Maybe it was Octavia. Maybe she had finally decided to reach out.

I answered without checking the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Mr. Flemington, finally you answered your call," Olga’s familiar voice came through, thick with her Russian accent.

"Olga, hey," I replied, the spark of hope instantly fading into disappointment. Does this mean Octavia still won’t call me?

"I tried your line earlier but it was unavailable," she said.

"That’s because I had it on Do Not Disturb. I needed some rest after the flight." I sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, staring at the city lights glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Oh, okay. Olga called to make sure you arrived safely at your destination."

"Yes, I have. Thank you for checking, Olga."

"My pleasure, sir."

"How’s everything at home?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"It’s fine," she replied.

I hesitated, then asked the question that had been burning in my mind. "Did... did Octavia come to the estate while I was gone?"

"No, Mr. Flemington," Olga answered gently.

I let out a quiet sigh of disappointment. "Was Mrs. Flemington supposed to come?"

"No, don’t worry. I was just asking."

"I have to go now, Olga. Remember to let me know immediately if anyone comes to the estate. Understood?"

"Da," she said.

"Bye for now."

"Bye, Mr. Flemington."

The call ended, leaving the suite feeling even emptier. I stared at the phone for a long moment before setting it down.

The next morning, we headed straight to the meeting. The conference room was silent, but it wasn’t the peaceful kind of silence. It was the heavy, charged silence that comes when power is about to shift.

I stood at the head of the long glass table, hands resting lightly on its cool surface, my gaze sweeping over the executives, investors, and government representatives seated across from me. They were all waiting.

"Flemington Group isn’t here to compete, ladies and gentlemen," I began, my voice calm and measured. "We are here to lead."

No one interrupted. I tapped the thick document in front of me.

"The Andes Trade Corridor isn’t just infrastructure. It’s control over movement, over access, over the entire economic flow between Colombia and northern Brazil."

A subtle shift rippled through the room. They understood the stakes perfectly.

"If you partner with us, you are not simply choosing an investor," I continued, looking each person in the eye. "You are choosing the firm that will ensure this project dominates the region for the next twenty years."

Silence followed, thick with consideration. Then one of the senior board members leaned forward.

"And the competing firm?" he asked.

"They don’t have what we have."

"And why is that?"

"Authority," I said simply, straightening my posture.

That single word seemed to break the last wall of resistance. Minutes later, pens moved across paper. Handshakes were exchanged. The deal was signed.

"Congratulations, Mr. Flemington," Raquel Cruz said as we stepped out of the conference room. "You just secured one of the most powerful trade investments in South America."

"I don’t secure deals, Miss Cruz," I replied calmly. "I close them."

Even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow. The victory should have tasted sweet, but my mind kept drifting back to New York—to my grandfather lying motionless in his hospital bed and to Octavia, whose last words to me still echoed with pain and distance. The way she had looked at me. The way she had said I had hurt her too deeply.

I adjusted my cufflinks and turned to Ian. "Prepare everything for departure. We leave within the hour."

Ian nodded obediently.

I didn’t want to stay in Bogotá any longer than necessary. My grandfather was still unconscious, and Octavia... I needed to see her, even if she refused to speak to me. Staying here meant thinking too much, and thinking too much meant going crazy.

The jet cut smoothly through the night sky on the return flight. Everything should have felt calm. The deal was done. Flemington Group had just expanded its global influence in a major way. It was something worth celebrating, and I wished more than anything that my grandfather could have been awake to share in it.

I sat back in my seat, covered by a thick fleece blanket, staring out into the endless darkness beyond the window—nothing but clouds and black sky.

"You should be celebrating, Mr. Flemington," Ian said from across the cabin.

"I don’t celebrate outcomes I expect," I mumbled.

He shook his head. "That deal changes everything."

I only shrugged.

Suddenly, a subtle shift ran through the aircraft. My fingers tightened on the armrest. That didn’t feel right.

The plane dipped slightly, then steadied.

"Just turbulence," Raquel said, though her voice lacked confidence.

Then came another shift—stronger this time. The cabin lights flickered. My chest tightened.

"Captain?" Ian called out. There was no response.

To my growing dread, the plane dropped hard. Everything lifted, then slammed back down violently. freeweɓnøvel.com

"What the fuck?" Raquel gasped.

I was already on my feet. Something deep in my gut told me this was wrong—very wrong. I moved quickly toward the cockpit.

"Captain Harris?" I called. No answer.

The intercom crackled to life, static cutting through the cabin.

"Engine failure," the pilot’s voice came through, strained.

"Brace yourselves!" I yelled as the plane dropped again.

My instincts had been right. This wasn’t turbulence. We were falling.

The cabin erupted into chaos. Raquel screamed at the top of her lungs.

"¡Ay, Dios mío!" she cried in Spanish, her voice raw with terror.

The cockpit was a storm of blaring alarms and flashing red lights.

"Hydraulics are gone! We’re losing altitude fast!" Captain Harris shouted.

"Where are we?" I demanded over the noise.

"Over the Amazon—Brazilian airspace!"

My chest tightened painfully. Below us was nothing but endless, dense jungle. No runway. No safe landing. No way out.

"Brace for impact!" Harris yelled.

Time seemed to slow.

For the first time in years, the deal, the company, the legacy—none of it mattered. All I could see was Octavia’s face. Her eyes. Her laugh. The way she used to look at me before everything fell apart.

My jaw clenched.

Not like this.

Then the impact came.

And the world shattered.