Chapter 119:
“Yes, yes, that’s precisely what happened.”
“That’s the whole story.”
The rest quickly echoed their agreement, nodding along without hesitation.
The man in the white T-shirt cast a sharp, annoyed glance at his companion who had nearly let the truth slip. Freya caught the exchange from the corner of her eye.
“Get lost,” Kristian snapped, his anger no longer contained.
At his command, the group dissolved, scattering in all directions like leaves in the wind.
Freya wanted to keep someone back to ask questions, but it was too late.
Gerard, noticing everyone dispersing, swiftly started the car, maneuvered it close by, and then exited.
Before he could utter a word, he noticed Freya wrenching free from Kristian’s hold, her usually serene face now clouded with fury.
Gerard began cautiously, “Mr. and Mrs. Shaw, perhaps we should discuss this matter at home.”
“Call me Freya or Ms. Briggs,” she insisted sharply.
Kristian’s presence seemed to drop in temperature, a frosty aura enveloping him.
Gerard hesitated, then revised his address. “Ms. Briggs, who were those people we just encountered? How did you come to be involved with them?”
The question visibly soured the expressions of both Freya and Kristian.
Without a word, Freya turned and strode off, clearly not intending to follow the same path as Kristian.
“Stop!” Kristian’s command cut through the air, laced with fury.
Your next favorite is on gⱯlnσν𝓮𝓁s．𝒸o𝗺
Freya continued on, blatantly ignoring him.
In a swift motion, Kristian reached out, grabbed her arm, and forcefully ushered her into the car, then snapped at Gerard with icy authority, “Drive!”
Gerard, focusing intently on the road ahead, complied without a word.
Freya felt a surge of anger toward Kristian but paused, reflecting that he wasn’t worth her fury. She knew he had spirited her away merely to interrogate her about her actions, accusing her of trying to set up Ashley. It was no big deal.
The car surged forward into the night.
Over an hour later, they reached Kristian’s villa.
Gerard, his hands shaking, hesitantly opened the door, bewildered by Kristian’s fury toward Freya, especially when she was the victim.
Kristian yanked Freya from the car with a forceful tug.
If not for her remarkable self-control, she might have flipped him over her shoulder in defense.
Since their divorce wasn’t finalized, she held back her true strength to prevent any unforeseen complications.
Kristian violently slammed the door behind them, the sound echoing through the night.
Once inside, he flung Freya onto the couch and towered over her, his voice laced with accusation. “What were you thinking? And how the hell did you know where I’d be?”
“Don’t question me! Just ask the person who said I’m the mastermind,” Freya snapped.
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