Chapter 11:
“Kristian,” Ashley interjected, playing peacemaker. “This is my fault. Don’t be angry with her.”
Freya nearly rolled her eyes. She’d ignored the woman’s petty games, but patience had limits.
“Since when do outsiders meddle in family matters?” Her tone could frost glass.
“I just hate seeing you fight.”
“We’re fighting,” Freya said slowly, “because of you.”
“I’m sorry.” Ashley’s whisper was a masterclass in faux penitence.
“If apologies sufficed, we wouldn’t need courts.”
“Enough.” Kristian seized Freya’s wrist—this time, his grip lacked its earlier brutality. “With me. Now.”
She didn’t resist.
Snatching her purse, she let him haul her into the corridor.
At the hallway’s end, he released her, his mask of indifference back in place. “What do you want?”
“To call her out.”
Silence.
“To name her what she is—a homewrecker.”
“She’s not,” he snapped.
“Then am I?”
“No.”
C𝒉𝑒ck ⓐuthor’s ⓒo𝓹𝓎 h𝑒r𝑒: gⲁ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⫷𝓬𝗈𝗺
“Then who is?” Freya asked again.
The question hung between them like a blade.
Kristian looked away first. He wanted to explain, but her face—all scorn, her once-warm eyes now flint—stopped him.
“You’ve changed,” he finally said.
“Well, isn’t that just tragic?” Freya’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Two years of marriage, and my husband still doesn’t know the first thing about me.”
Kristian froze, caught off guard. She just had to twist the knife, didn’t she?
“You’re coming home with me.” He yanked his tie loose, snatched her purse, and clamped a hand around her wrist, dragging her toward the exit.
Freya stiffened, startled. Kristian halted too. Their eyes locked onto the purse in his grip.
Did he think she was Ashley? Otherwise, why would he be treating her with such sudden kindness now?
The thought sliced through Freya. Kristian offered no explanation, storming off with those infuriatingly long strides.
Ashley watched from the hospital room, her sweet facade crumbling. Her nails dug into her palms, leaving crescent marks she didn’t even feel.
The door creaked open moments later.
“I thought Freya hired that hit-and-run driver?” Ashley’s friend frowned. “Why is Mr. Shaw still—”
“It wasn’t her.” Ashley’s brow furrowed.
At first, she’d assumed Freya was behind it—after all, her return threatened Freya’s place as Kristian’s wife.
.
.
.