Chapter 7:
Neither Kristian nor Freya spoke. Both radiated a frost so deep it could’ve cracked the windows.
Gerard knew Kristian’s moods well—but Freya? She’d been almost cheerful earlier. What the hell happened?
He bit back a sigh. Questions wouldn’t help now.
In the back seat, Kristian’s gaze drifted unbidden to Freya’s profile. Something unfamiliar twisted in his chest—an emotion he refused to name.
Thirty minutes later, the car halted at the hospital entrance.
Kristian seized Freya’s wrist, dragging her toward the VIP ward. His grip was iron, unyielding.
She winced, her voice dripping with mockery. “At this rate, I won’t be the one charged—you’ll be arrested for assault first.”
He dropped her arm like it burned him. Angry red marks circled her skin.
Freya shot him a look so scathing it could’ve melted steel.
Guilt flickered in Kristian’s chest—brief, unwelcome. It vanished the moment Ashley’s bruised face flashed in his mind.
“Follow me,” he muttered, turning on his heel. He didn’t wait to see if Freya obeyed.
The door swung open. Ashley lay propped up in bed, her face lighting up at the sight of Kristian.
“Kristian,” she breathed, voice sweet with devotion.
He was at her side in an instant, fingers brushing hers in silent reassurance.
Freya strode in, took one look at them, and smirked. “Should I leave? Give you two some privacy?”
𝗔𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 @ g⍶𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⧽𝖼𝗈𝗆
Ashley flinched. “Ms. Briggs, it’s not what you think! We’re just—”
“Let go of his hand,” Freya interrupted, “and that lie might actually stick.”
She closed the distance to the bed, studying Ashley properly for the first time—soft features, delicate frame, eyes wide with practiced innocence.
Ah. Now she understood. This was the woman Kristian loved.
“Kristian…” Ashley’s fingers tightened around his, her lower lip trembling.
Freya nearly rolled her eyes. The act was transparent.
Ashley wanted her to explode—to play the jealous wife and give Kristian another reason to despise her.
Kristian misinterpreted Ashley’s grip as fear. His voice softened, a rarity. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Freya’s laugh was brittle. “Kristian, I’m right here.”
The audacity. Flaunting his affair in her face—did he think she’d just take it?
He ignored her, murmuring something to Ashley that made her blush.
Freya’s patience snapped. “Gerard,” she called, not turning from the bed. “How long will you lurk by the door?”
Gerard stiffened. How had she even noticed him?
“Get your phone out.” Her tone was lethally calm. “Record your boss cozying up to his mistress. Let’s see how Shaw Group’s shareholders enjoy the scandal.”
Gerard paled. He never intended to be pulled into this.
Ashley gasped, recoiling from Kristian as if burned.
.
.
.