Chapter 182:
By then, Kristian had managed to whip up a homemade breakfast, complete with freshly squeezed juice, hearty sandwiches, and perfectly fried eggs arrayed on the counter.
Freya, descending the stairs with a slight furrow of her brow, eyed the spread Kristian had prepared. Mid-bite, she hesitated, her tone laced with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Did you clean up after yourself in the kitchen?”
“No,” Kristian responded, the lie slipping out smoothly.
The shift in Freya’s demeanor was immediate; her fork paused mid-air, her appetite waning as her irritation sparked. “Kristian!” she exclaimed, her voice sharpening.
Kristian, unbothered, continued savoring his breakfast.
As he did, his gaze inadvertently flicked toward Freya, his mind wandering. Ever since she moved out, how was she getting by when it came to meals? There was barely anything to eat in her apartment; if he hadn’t scraped together what little was left, breakfast wouldn’t have been possible.
“Do you rely on takeout every single day?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of concern masked by casual curiosity.
“What’s it to you?” Freya snapped back, her defenses rising swiftly.
“My grandpa wanted me to see how you’re doing,” Kristian replied, his tone softening.
Freya remained silent, her disbelief evident in the stillness that enveloped her. The flimsy excuse he offered didn’t convince her in the slightest.
Swiftly finishing her breakfast, she stood to clear the table, her movements brisk and efficient. While stacking the dishes, she threw a glance over her shoulder. “Make sure you tidy up the kitchen later. I expect it to be as clean as it was before.”
“Do me a favor,” Kristian called out, his own meal concluded. He seemed unusually earnest, which only added to Freya’s growing suspicion.
She paused, a skeptical frown creasing her brow as she turned to face him.
This request didn’t sound like something he would normally say.
With a practiced efficiency that belied his earlier casual demeanor, Kristian began to tidy up, setting the stage for a more serious conversation. “I need a record of all stomach cancer cases reported across the nation,” he said, his voice taking on an unexpectedly serious tone.
Freya’s confusion deepened. A wry smile touched her lips as she silently wondered about the source of his confidence. Did she look like someone who would ever go out of her way to help him?
“Why don’t you just ask for Ashley’s medical records directly?” she retorted, her voice laced with incredulity. She caught on to his intentions instantly. The records request was nothing more than a pretense.
Kristian didn’t bother with a denial. “Alright, that’s actually what I’m after.”
“I’m not interested in helping you,” Freya replied flatly, her patience thinning.
“But it was my grandpa who asked me to look into it,” Kristian added quickly, playing his last card by mentioning Lionel’s involvement.
Freya’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him, suspicion etched into every feature. What the hell was he scheming now?
“He doesn’t believe Ashley ever really had stomach cancer. He’s demanding to see her medical records from both here and abroad,” Kristian explained, his voice tinged with urgency. “You could retrieve them faster than anyone.”
“Why don’t you just ask Ashley herself?” Freya shot back.
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