Freya crossed her arms. “I might be willing to hand it over – if you let me see yours too.”
Kristian barely hesitated. He wasn’t interested in anything other than confirming if it was Trent. “Fine.”
“I’ll check your chat history with Ashley,” she said, her expression unreadable.
His jaw tightened. After a brief silence, he responded, “No.”
“Then you’re not seeing mine either,” she said without missing a beat.
A heavy stillness settled between them. Kristian stared at her, as if searching for something – some hesitation, some flicker of uncertainty.
But Freya held firm.
In the end, he took his phone back, his voice flat. “Whatever.”
They parted on a sour note.
Freya didn’t lose any sleep over it. She simply shut the door and went to bed.
The next day, they barely exchanged words. At noon, Kristian left after a phone call, and Freya headed out to meet Trent at a restaurant.
When she arrived, he was already there.
Kristian and Trent couldn’t have been more different. Where Kristian was distant, ice-cold in demeanor, Trent wore a perpetual, polite smile – the kind that made it impossible to tell what he was really thinking. Angry, amused, indifferent – it was always the same smooth expression.
But with Freya, he was different.
“Why did you get here so early?” she noted, stepping into the private room, her shoulders relaxing in his presence. “I thought we agreed on twelve-thirty.”
“You ask me why?” Trent’s lips curved slightly, his handsome, refined face framed by elegant glasses. Dressed in a gray casual suit, he exuded an air of gentle approachability.
Meanwhile, outside in the corridor, Kristian strode alongside two men – one with a mischievous, lazy demeanor, the other exuding gentleness – both strikingly handsome.
“Kristian,” the mischievous one drawled, his smirk laced with playful provocation. “Wasn’t that your soon-to-be ex-wife who just walked in there?” He let the words linger before adding, “If memory serves me right, that private room was booked by none other than the heir of the Seymour family in Alerith – the rising star of the legal world, Trent Seymour.”
Kristian’s steps halted. His gaze darkened as he turned sharply toward his friend. “Who?”
“Trent Seymour,” the man repeated, dragging out the name as if savoring the moment.
Kristian’s jaw tightened. Without another word, he strode toward the private room, his mind flashing with images of Freya and Trent being intimate.
She had really gotten involved with Trent. That was unbelievable.
“Not stopping him?” the gentler man asked, watching Kristian’s cold figure disappear down the hall.
“Why would I?” The mischievous one shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Best seats in the house for some premium drama.”
Radiating coldness, Kristian flung open the private room door. Inside, he discovered Trent and Freya sitting close together, clearly on good terms.
The sudden commotion captured their attention, and they looked up in unison. Seeing him, Freya froze, perplexed. “Kristian?”
Trent also turned his gaze toward the intrusion.
Kristian’s eyes met Trent’s briefly before he turned away, his expression as indifferent as ever, pretending he hadn’t witnessed anything. He pulled the door closed. “Sorry, wrong room.”
Freya remained speechless. What a clumsy excuse!
“Not explaining?” Trent tilted his head, speaking with deliberate slowness.
“Nothing to explain.” Freya sounded resigned to the situation with Kristian, her tone casual. “If you meet him, don’t reveal my identity. To him, I’m just a common person.”
“Sure,” Kristian agreed, his voice tinged with the usual patience he reserved for Freya’s whims.
As Freya continued to quietly eat, her thoughts wandered, puzzling over Kristian’s presence.
Kristian couldn’t help but grapple with the same question. Even after settling into a private room with his friends – Felipe Yates, always hungry for drama, and Zander – Kristian’s mind replayed the earlier scene he couldn’t shake off.
The image of Freya and Trent, seated unusually close at an expansive table, nagged at him.
“What’s on your mind?” Felipe prodded with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You mentioned wanting to discuss something earlier. Why the brooding silence now?”
“It’s nothing,” Kristian muttered, dismissing the inquiry with a wave of his hand, his brow furrowed in irritation.
Felipe exchanged a knowing look with Zander.
Thriving on the thrill of the intrigue, Felipe couldn’t help but stir the pot. “I heard Trent’s reputation has been spotless for nearly three decades – always distant, never tangled up with any woman. Seems like he’s not as aloof as the rumors made him out to be.”
“That’s for sure,” Zander chimed in, his voice smooth as he took a leisurely sip of his drink, his expression unreadable.
.
.
.
The mere mention of Trent’s name was enough to fan the flames of Kristian’s annoyance. He snapped, glaring at Felipe, “Don’t you have anything better to do than dig up gossip?”
“Nope,” Felipe retorted, his smile broadening, clearly enjoying the rising tension.
The three had been inseparable since they were kids, which explained why Felipe and Zander could weather Kristian’s storms of temper with such ease.
Kristian, feeling trapped in a maelstrom of emotion, fixed his eyes on Zander. His friend’s aloofness pricked at him, stirring memories of a clip from a reality show he and Freya had once watched. It was enough to reignite his anger.
“You really think you’re not a jerk, huh?” Kristian snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Must be nice, sipping drinks without a care in the world!”
Zander, caught off guard, furrowed his brows in confusion. What did he do to deserve this?
Felipe slung an arm around Zander and chuckled with a devilish glint in his eye. “Oh, let’s not waste breath on a cuckold.”
Kristian, never one to mince words, especially not with them, shot back. “Worry about your own mess, Felipe. At least Freya isn’t expecting another man’s child.”
That jibe struck a nerve. Felipe’s mischievous grin stiffened into a mask of discomfort.
Zander, still puzzled, shifted his stance. He inquired softly, “What’s all this about?”
“Weren’t you the one who called this meeting?” Felipe interjected, his tone now tinged with bitterness. “Out with it then.”
Kristian, momentarily sidetracked from Freya, sighed deeply. “Look, I need a favor. Keep an eye on Ashley for me, will you?”
The air was thick with the weight of unspoken debts as both men understood how uncommon it was for Kristian to owe anyone a favor. Their conversation, however, pivoted sharply when one of them voiced the question on everyone’s mind.
“Ashley is back?”
Kristian answered with a calm, almost distant tone, “Yes.”
“Are you divorcing Freya for her?” Zander probed, his voice laden with a mix of disbelief and concern.
“Yes,” Kristian admitted, his tone flat but resolute.
Seizing the moment, Felipe chimed in with a biting tone, “Did you forget how she left you before, almost shattering you?”
Kristian’s expression softened slightly as he explained, “It turned out to be nothing but a misunderstanding. She set the record straight six months back.”
He continued, sharing more than he usually would. “Freya has asked me not to see Ashley until everything is finalized with the divorce, so I need you two to keep an eye on her during this time.”
Zander, recalling his encounters with Freya, noted her gentle demeanor. “She wasn’t angry about it?”
Reflecting for a moment, Kristian replied, “Not really.”
Felipe scoffed, his cynicism clear. “Honestly, she acts like you’re nothing to her. Feels more like she married your money, not you.”
“She’s not like that,” Kristian countered quickly, a protective edge to his voice.
“You’ll see when she starts asking for her share during the divorce,” Felipe retorted with a smirk, his words sharp. “People often wear masks of dignity and integrity, but who really knows what lies beneath? People can be extraordinarily greedy.”
Kristian’s frown deepened, a tangible weight of resistance settling into the creases of his brow as he processed Felipe’s words.
He almost retorted that Freya wasn’t the type to care about money, but a flicker of doubt held him back, haunted by her recent requests. His mood soured further, the annoyance prickling under his skin making it increasingly difficult to savor the flavors of his meal. Every now and then, his eyes flickered toward the door of the private room, drawn by a restless anticipation he couldn’t quite shake off. If Freya truly had something to hide about her relationship with Trent, she would’ve come forth with an explanation by now. Instead, thirty long minutes had ticked by without a word from her, fueling his unrest.
With a sigh, he took another distracted sip from his glass, his thoughts churning uneasily.
From across the table, Felipe and Zander exchanged glances, acutely aware of the tension radiating off Kristian.
As the silence stretched on, the atmosphere thickened with unspoken words until Felipe could no longer bear the heavy air. He rose, casually slipping a hand into his pocket, his voice breaking the quiet. “Let’s go say hi to the folks next door.”
“No!” Kristian’s voice was sharp, a flat refusal hanging between them. Freya was the one who had every reason to feel guilty and reach out to him.
Sensing Kristian’s wounded pride and stubborn stance, Felipe pressed on, a gentle coaxing to his tone, “Trent traveled all the way from Alerith to Jeucwell; shouldn’t we at least greet him?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, a flicker of conflict across Kristian’s features before Zander’s hand came to rest reassuringly on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Finding a decent reason, Kristian got up from his seat and followed them.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.