Chapter 95:
“Freya!” Kristian’s exclamation echoed, a mix of shock and anger resonating in his voice.
“You claim Ashley fell into this mess because she believed the mysterious sender was you. Considering we’re not yet divorced, I could easily view her actions as an affair with you, essentially making her a home wrecker,” Freya asserted coldly.
She was a staunch believer in the law and its penalties, though she felt not a shred of pity for Ashley.
In response, Kristian’s gaze turned steely and cold, his eyes reflecting a tumultuous sea of emotions.
Freya, unaffected by his menacing presence, continued undeterred, “She’s in this predicament now, and you’re partly to blame.”
Had Kristian settled their divorce when he first received the call six months ago, Ashley could have been his wife by now, avoiding all underhanded agreements.
He was clearly the one to blame, yet he dared to point fingers at her.
“The biggest mistake of my life was ever believing you possessed the same kind heart as she does, and choosing to marry you,” Kristian retorted, his voice a mix of anger and disappointment, after a piercing stare that seemed to last an eternity.
“Quite the coincidence,” Freya snapped back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “As marrying you is my greatest regret as well.”
Without another glance, Kristian stood, his frosty stare fading as he turned and exited the café. On his way out, he called Gerard to get his return flight sorted.
Freya listened to his conversation, a lump forming in her throat.
Despite her previous convictions that she harbored no feelings for Kristian and could remain composed, she realized in that moment that letting go of someone and truly moving forward was a process that required more time.
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Watching Kristian’s retreating figure, Freya took a deep breath and reached for her phone to make her own call.
At exactly six o’clock, a bar named Blue Friday, a subdued haven nestled within the folds of Frederick’s business empire, usually hummed with a quiet energy.
When Frederick received a call from Freya, his heart leapt with excitement; however, his pulse quickened for a different reason when she asked him to meet her at the bar.
Within the confines of the bar’s intimate private room, soft, dusky light draped itself around the lavish spread of drinks meticulously arranged before Freya.
The abundance of liquor prompted a surge of apprehension in Frederick, causing him to nervously lick his lips and suggest, with a hint of unease, “Freya, this is quite an extravagant setup for just the two of us. Should I invite the others to join?”
“There’s no need.” Freya curtly dismissed the idea.
“Actually, they…” Under the piercing scrutiny of Freya’s eyes, Frederick’s voice dwindled into silence; he wanted to say that their friends were aware of her fleeting marriage and subsequent divorce with Kristian.
Freya preferred to keep it to herself. She knew them too well—just as she had hidden her marriage, she now wanted to do the same with the divorce.
“What was that?” she inquired sharply.
Frederick stumbled over his words, managing only a weak, “Nothing, really.”
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