Chapter 27:
“Did you really marry Kristian?” Trent’s voice danced through the line, teasing yet tinged with a gentle concern.
“Yes,” she responded, her tone flat, stripped of emotion.
“And now you’re planning to divorce him?” he inquired further.
“That’s right.”
“Alright,” Trent remarked with a light chuckle, his curiosity satisfied for the moment.
He wasn’t the type to pry, not like Frederick who couldn’t help himself. He reclined in the backseat of the car sent to fetch him, a faint smile tracing his lips, his glasses casting him in a scholarly light. “Send me the details for the time and place, and we’ll talk more tomorrow,” he stated, his voice calm and collected.
“Alright.” Freya ended the call and quickly sent Trent the meeting details.
Just as she finished, knuckles rapped against her door, followed by Kristian’s voice cutting through the silence. “Open up, I need to talk to you.”
Freya tossed her phone onto the bed and crossed the room. When she pulled the door open, her voice carried none of its usual warmth—just cool detachment. “What is it?”
Kristian extended his phone toward her. “My grandpa wants to talk to you. Said your line was busy, couldn’t get through.”
She hesitated, realizing it was probably because she had been on the phone with Trent. Taking the phone, her voice softened. “Hello, Lionel.”
“Calling you this late—hope I’m not being a bother?” Lionel’s familiar voice came through.
“Not at all,” she replied gently.
𝗥𝗲𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝘁: ⳑ𝗮𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝗍𝖊𝗅𝘀．𝖼𝗈𝗺
“When you and Kristian left earlier, I forgot to mention something. That chess puzzle you left me last time—still haven’t cracked it…” Their conversation flowed easily after that.
Kristian didn’t bother listening. Lately, Lionel barely sought him out, spending more time with Freya instead.
Most days, Lionel would simply remark, “Freya surely has more solutions than you,” or “Your chess skills aren’t as good as hers,” and occasionally, “How did I end up with such a foolish grandson?” Truth be told, Freya resembled Lionel’s grandchild more than Kristian did.
Lost in this thought, Kristian’s gaze drifted to the gentle, patient woman speaking with his grandfather. He had basked in that gentleness for two years.
While lost in his memories, Freya’s phone vibrated on the bed. Kristian glanced over instinctively, but before he could glimpse the message, Freya lunged for it and darkened the screen.
The entire sequence lasted less than a second—too swift for Kristian to react.
“I’m done talking with Lionel.” She handed his phone back, her expression calm. “Here.”
Kristian didn’t take it.
His focus remained locked on her phone.
Though he hadn’t fully seen the message, he was almost certain he had caught a name—Trent Seymour.
“You’re not taking it?” Freya kept her hand outstretched.
Kristian’s eyes darkened slightly, but he still made no move for the phone. “Who just messaged you?”
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