Chapter 28:
“That’s my business,” she replied evenly.
A beat passed before he said, “I’m still your husband.”
Freya just looked at him.
At that moment, dressed in only a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he looked more polished than usual.
His appearance, at least, was undeniably striking.
Kristian caught the way she looked at him and pressed forward. “Until our divorce is finalized, I have a right to know who you’re in contact with.”
She let out a quiet scoff. “You’re clearly not well-versed in the law.” Retracting her hand, she added, “Even as my husband, you don’t have that right without my consent.”
“Freya.” His voice turned colder.
He knew exactly who Trent was. They didn’t move in the same circles, but Kristian was well aware—Trent was ruthless and dangerous. If Freya got too close to him, she might not even realize the kind of fire she was playing with.
“Give me your phone,” Kristian demanded.
“No.”
“Do I have to take it myself?” His gaze grew sharper.
Freya crossed her arms. “I might be willing to hand it over—if you let me see yours too.”
Kristian barely hesitated. He wasn’t interested in anything other than confirming if it was Trent. “Fine.”
“I’ll check your chat history with Ashley,” she said, her expression unreadable.
Ⓜore c𝐡apters @ gⲁ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⩸𝖼𝗈𝗺
His jaw tightened. After a brief silence, he responded, “No.”
“Then you’re not seeing mine either,” she said without missing a beat.
A heavy stillness settled between them. Kristian stared at her, as if searching for something—some hesitation, some flicker of uncertainty.
But Freya held firm.
In the end, he took his phone back, his voice flat. “Whatever.”
They parted on a sour note.
Freya didn’t lose any sleep over it. She simply shut the door and went to bed.
The next day, they barely exchanged words. At noon, Kristian left after a phone call, and Freya headed out to meet Trent at a restaurant.
When she arrived, he was already there.
Kristian and Trent couldn’t have been more different. Where Kristian was distant, ice-cold in demeanor, Trent wore a perpetual, polite smile—the kind that made it impossible to tell what he was really thinking. Angry, amused, indifferent—it was always the same smooth expression.
But with Freya, he was different.
“Why did you get here so early?” she noted, stepping into the private room, her shoulders relaxing in his presence. “I thought we agreed on twelve-thirty.”
“You ask me why?” Trent’s lips curved slightly, his handsome, refined face framed by elegant glasses. Dressed in a gray casual suit, he exuded an air of gentle approachability.
Meanwhile, outside in the corridor, Kristian strode alongside two men—one with a mischievous, lazy demeanor, the other exuding gentleness—both strikingly handsome.
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.
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