Chapter 29:
“Kristian,” the mischievous one drawled, his smirk laced with playful provocation. “Wasn’t that your soon-to-be ex-wife who just walked in there?” He let the words linger before adding, “If memory serves me right, that private room was booked by none other than the heir of the Seymour family in Alerith—the rising star of the legal world, Trent Seymour.”
Kristian’s steps halted. His gaze darkened as he turned sharply toward his friend. “Who?”
“Trent Seymour,” the man repeated, dragging out the name as if savoring the moment.
Kristian’s jaw tightened. Without another word, he strode toward the private room, his mind flashing with images of Freya and Trent being intimate.
She had really gotten involved with Trent. That was unbelievable.
“Not stopping him?” the gentler man asked, watching Kristian’s cold figure disappear down the hall.
“Why would I?” The mischievous one shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Best seats in the house for some premium drama.”
Radiating coldness, Kristian flung open the private room door. Inside, he discovered Trent and Freya sitting close together, clearly on good terms.
The sudden commotion captured their attention, and they looked up in unison. Seeing him, Freya froze, perplexed. “Kristian?”
Trent also turned his gaze toward the intrusion.
Kristian’s eyes met Trent’s briefly before he turned away, his expression as indifferent as ever, pretending he hadn’t witnessed anything. He pulled the door closed. “Sorry, wrong room.”
Freya remained speechless. What a clumsy excuse!
“Not explaining?” Trent tilted his head, speaking with deliberate slowness.
“Nothing to explain.” Freya sounded resigned to the situation with Kristian, her tone casual. “If you meet him, don’t reveal my identity. To him, I’m just a common person.”
“Sure,” Kristian agreed, his voice tinged with the usual patience he reserved for Freya’s whims.
As Freya continued to quietly eat, her thoughts wandered, puzzling over Kristian’s presence.
Kristian couldn’t help but grapple with the same question. Even after settling into a private room with his friends—Felipe Yates, always hungry for drama, and Zander—Kristian’s mind replayed the earlier scene he couldn’t shake off.
The image of Freya and Trent, seated unusually close at an expansive table, nagged at him.
“What’s on your mind?” Felipe prodded with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You mentioned wanting to discuss something earlier. Why the brooding silence now?”
“It’s nothing,” Kristian muttered, dismissing the inquiry with a wave of his hand, his brow furrowed in irritation.
Felipe exchanged a knowing look with Zander.
Thriving on the thrill of the intrigue, Felipe couldn’t help but stir the pot. “I heard Trent’s reputation has been spotless for nearly three decades—always distant, never tangled up with any woman. Seems like he’s not as aloof as the rumors made him out to be.”
“That’s for sure,” Zander chimed in, his voice smooth as he took a leisurely sip of his drink, his expression unreadable.
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