Chapter 3:
That name clawed at buried memories.
“What do you want?” she asked flatly.
Hugh hesitated, guilt threading his words. “Frederick told me you reached out. Said you were digging into Kristian. Need help?”
“No.” Freya had no interest in his involvement.
A beat passed before Hugh ventured, “What’s your relationship with him?”
“A couple.” She let the word hang. “About to divorce.”
Hugh’s breath hitched. She was married?
“You—” he started.
“If that’s all, I’m done.” Freya didn’t want to waste any more breath on him.
“Wait!” he rushed.
She held her tongue.
The line crackled with tension.
Finally, he muttered, “When are you coming back? That woman’s gone.”
Then, hastily, he added, “Your mom’s belongings are untouched.”
Her fingers tightened around the phone. For a flicker, emotion crossed her face—then vanished.
“Noted.” She hung up before he could protest.
Hugh stared at the dead line, frustration curdling in his chest. He hadn’t even asked about her marriage.
Freya didn’t spare him another thought. She flicked her phone to airplane mode, towel-dried her hair, and collapsed into bed.
ⓣ𝓱𝓮 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲: gⱯ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀.con
The night passed without dreams.
By eight the next morning, she was up—dressed and breakfasted.
Today, she’d taken care with her makeup. Her skin glowed; her lips, naturally full, needed no enhancement. But her eyes—sharp, luminous—were the real weapon.
Her smile was bright, bringing a warmth that could instantly lift anyone’s spirits.
When Kristian arrived, she was already waiting on the sofa. Her shoulder-length hair was pinned back, bangs swept up under a black beret.
At the sight of him, she rose gracefully, reaching for a coat and draping it over her shoulder.
“Let’s go.” She grabbed her purse, her tone composed and unbothered.
Kristian didn’t move. His tailored suit emphasized his height as he said, “Not today.”
Freya stilled.
“I have other commitments.” His voice was indifferent. His gaze lingered—too long—on her face. “Tomorrow.”
“Kristian Shaw.” Her tone was a warning.
He disliked it instantly.
“I put on makeup today,” she said, her voice deceptively calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. “If you want our divorce to go smoothly on Monday, push aside whatever plans you have. I don’t deal with people who break their promises.”
Kristian’s eyes narrowed.
.
.
.