Chapter 36:
He knew she was capable. He trusted her to handle Kristian. But trust didn’t negate the need for reassurance.
Freya offered a small smile. “Okay.”
Their farewell, tender yet tinged with unspoken understanding, didn’t go unnoticed. From the balcony above, Kristian watched, his grip tightening on the railing until his knuckles blanched. The voice on the phone faded into static.
Only one thought consumed him: How had she and Trent grown so close?
“Sir? Are you listening, sir?” Gerard’s voice finally pierced through his haze. He’d repeated himself twice now, met with silence.
“What?” Kristian barely registered the words. His attention was fixed on Freya as she stepped inside, Trent’s car disappearing down the drive.
Gerard suppressed a sigh. So all that reporting he’d just done had been completely ignored?
Still, for the sake of his paycheck, he repeated himself. “The police just called. They’ve arrested the suspect from Miss Bradley’s car accident. Do you want to go in for questioning?”
“No.” Kristian turned abruptly, already heading downstairs. “Tell them to proceed as per protocol.”
Gerard frowned. His boss had been obsessed with this case before—what changed? But he knew better than to ask. “Understood.”
Kristian ended the call and entered the living room just as Freya stepped inside.
Freya and Kristian’s gazes locked, crackling with a palpable tension that thickened the very air between them. Disdain was deeply etched on their faces, a silent testament to the growing rift between them.
Without a word, Freya turned and ascended the stairs, each step radiating icy determination.
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“Stop!” Kristian’s voice rang out—halting yet resonant—as he called after her retreating figure.
Freya ignored him, her steps never faltering.
With purpose, Kristian intercepted her at the bottom of the staircase, planting himself firmly in her path. He towered over her, his face a mask of detached indifference. “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low and steady.
“Fine,” Freya conceded curtly, her tone laced with reluctance.
They moved toward the living room, where Kristian casually flicked the remote aside.
Freya’s eyes followed the motion briefly but she said nothing. Instead, she gracefully reached for her cup and poured herself some water. The gentle tinkle of the liquid broke the silence. After a slow, measured sip, she settled onto the sofa, cradling the cup in her hands. “Fine. Get to the point. What do you want to talk about?”
Kristian’s gaze was unyielding, piercing as he asked, “What’s your relationship with Trent Seymour?”
Her response was quick and frank. “Friends.”
“And when did this friendship begin?” Kristian pressed, his tone probing.
Unfazed, Freya replied, “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
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