Chapter 39:
Kristian’s reaction was one of sheer astonishment.
“You seriously never noticed?” Gerard pressed on.
Without another word, Kristian ended the call.
A slight crease formed between his brows. Freya was from Alerith? Could her history with Trent really stretch all the way back to childhood?
The notion flickered briefly through Kristian’s mind before he dismissed it. Yet almost immediately, another thought took root—he realized he needed to meet Freya’s family. With a decisive motion, he tossed his phone back onto the desk and allowed himself a moment to reflect.
After half an hour lost in thought, he rose and approached Freya’s room, knocking firmly.
The door swung open to reveal Freya, her hair still damp from a shower, a towel catching stray droplets. Water traced delicate paths down her elegant neck, pooling subtly at her collarbone and enhancing her ethereal allure.
Kristian caught himself as his breathing deepened, hastily averting his eyes—only to find himself caught in the trap of her clear, luminous gaze.
Before Kristian could utter a word, Freya cut him off sharply, “Stop staring.”
“I have something to discuss with you,” Kristian said, steering the conversation away from the weight of his own guilt.
Still drying her hair, Freya cracked the door open just enough to fix him with a dismissive look. “If this is about Ashley or Trent, save your breath. There’s nothing to say.”
“It’s not,” Kristian replied, irritation flickering beneath his calm tone. Her attitude grated on him.
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What he really wanted was to peel back the layers and see who she truly was.
Freya set the towel aside and sighed. “Go ahead.”
“I’d like to visit your family,” Kristian said, his voice firm, though the request was little more than a pretext. “My grandpa made a valid point — in two years of marriage, I never once met your parents. That’s inexcusable.”
“There’s no need,” Freya countered flatly.
“It’s just an apology. I won’t overstay my welcome.” His voice was low, deliberate.
Freya didn’t budge. “Seriously, drop it.”
“Why the resistance?” Kristian’s eyes narrowed. “Are you hiding something?” Gerard’s earlier insinuations resurfaced in his mind.
“Exactly.” Freya met his gaze without flinching, her expression dead serious. “My family’s filthy rich. I’m afraid you’ll get dollar signs in your eyes, refuse to divorce me, and then siphon off my inheritance to fund Ashley’s lifestyle.”
Kristian stared at her, momentarily speechless. He didn’t buy a word of it — but he humored her anyway. “Name one. I know every major family and corporation. Which one’s yours?”
“The Briggs Group,” Freya shot back without hesitation.
She had no reason to lie. Her identity wasn’t some well-guarded secret. Hugh Briggs’s daughter was common knowledge in elite circles — except the one everyone recognized was her younger sister.
Freya had always preferred solitude over socializing, so few outside her inner circle even knew she existed.
“You could have at least picked a believable lie,” Kristian scoffed. “I’ve met Hugh Briggs’ daughter. She looks nothing like you.”
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