As they walked towards their destination, he couldn’t help but feel that Freya had been playing the fool, expertly masking her true intentions from him all this time.
The expansive grounds of the Shaw estate unfurled like a regal tapestry, leading them through a lush courtyard and up to the imposing facade of the main building.
By the time they arrived, it was apparent they were the last to enter; the rest of the family had already gathered.
.
.
.
It was to be a small family dinner, intimate with the presence of only Kristian’s parents, his grandfather, and the butler aside from the couple themselves.
As they stepped into the dining room, a chorus of heartfelt greetings enveloped them.
Melinda Shaw, Kristian’s mother, with her arms open and a bright smile, ushered Freya to sit beside her, where they soon fell into easy, lively conversation.
From the other end of the table, Kristian watched the scene unfold, his brow knitting together in a slight frown. A nagging sense of foreboding washed over him. This divorce wasn’t going to be smooth sailing.
“Gorman, please set the dinner,” Lionel Shaw, Kristian’s grandfather, commanded with an authoritative wave of his hand.
“Understood,” the butler responded smoothly.
Before long, the table was a vibrant display of culinary delights, each dish more inviting than the last.
Dinner started off light and pleasant, but Lionel’s subtle cough hinted he had something heavier to say.
“You’ve been married a while now – isn’t it about time to start a family?” he inquired, his gaze piercing across the table.
Kristian, maintaining his composure, responded with practiced calmness, “There’s no rush, Grandpa.”
“Did I ask you?” Lionel’s voice carried a sharp edge of displeasure directed squarely at Kristian. “I’m asking Freya.”
Caught off guard, Kristian fell into a stunned silence.
Freya, pausing to place her fork down gently, met Lionel’s gaze before replying, “We’re in no rush.”
Kristian shot her a quick side glance, suspicion flickering in his eyes. Could she seriously be doing this intentionally?
“Is Kristian giving you a hard time?” Melinda inquired, her eyes brimming with concern. “Just give us a signal, and we’ll be right by your side to defend you.”
“Don’t hesitate to speak out if something’s wrong. We’ve got your back,” Lionel chimed in, his voice warm with affection for Freya. “My granddaughter deserves nothing less.”
Caught off guard, Kristian responded with a touch of confusion, “Grandpa, remember I’m your grandson. She’s merely your granddaughter-in-law.”
“Is that so?” Lionel retorted playfully yet pointedly. “I almost thought she was my daughter and you were my son-in-law. Freya here, she joins me for chess and helps me with my meditation. And you? What memorable things have you done for me lately?”
“But haven’t you always wanted me to take good care of the Shaw Group?” Kristian protested.
“That’s not all there is.” Lionel dismissed with a wave of his hand.
Finding himself at a loss for words, Kristian stood dumbfounded.
“Try this, Lionel,” Freya interjected, bringing over a plate of his favorite dish. “It’s your favorite.”
“You truly are a gem, Freya.” Lionel’s face lit up instantly, his mood visibly lifted.
.
.
.
Though initially frustrated, Kristian’s gaze landed on Freya, whose presence clearly brought joy to his family. A subtle, warm feeling stirred within him, a sense of contentment he hadn’t recognized before.
In the early days of their marriage, his grandpa could barely hide his indifference toward Freya. His parents, while courteous, hadn’t been particularly warm towards her either.
In the circles of wealthy families where social standing was paramount, such reservations were typical. Yet, since Kristian and Freya had already sealed their bond through marriage, the family maintained a veneer of civility, carefully masking any overt disapproval.
Over time, as more interactions wove the fabric of their relationships, Lionel gradually warmed up to Freya. He often called Kristian, inquiring if Freya might be free to join him for afternoon tea or a casual outing.
With Kristian buried in his work at the company, he encouraged direct communication between them. Though he remained largely in the dark about the specifics of their conversations, it was clear their rapport had blossomed significantly.
Winning over Lionel was no trivial feat; his approval could not be swayed by simple flattery or adept social maneuvering.
Throughout the course of the dinner, Freya’s charm and wit brought a lightness to the atmosphere, making the meal an enjoyable affair.
She was keenly aware, however, that certain pressing issues lingered on the horizon, topics too delicate to broach amidst the shared meal and unspoken tension.
As the meal drew to a close, Melinda, with a poised and sophisticated air, turned to Kristian. “Kristian, head to the kitchen and slice up some fruit for Freya – don’t delegate it, do it yourself.”
Kristian shot Freya a sideways glance, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Okay.”
The moment he was gone, Lionel and Melinda shifted their focus towards Freya.
Isaac Shaw, Kristian’s father, subtly perked up his ears, his eyes still seemingly buried in the folds of his newspaper.
“Freya, be honest with me,” Melinda began, her tone gentle yet laden with unspoken implications. “Is there a particular reason you two haven’t started a family yet?”
Caught off guard, Freya faltered, her words trapped in her throat.
Seizing the moment of her hesitation, Melinda pressed further, her voice laced with concern, “Is it possible that Kristian is facing some health issues?”
“No,” Freya answered, her voice barely above a whisper, confusion and discomfort swirling in her expression.
“You don’t have to cover for him,” Lionel interjected, his sharp suit adding to his authoritative demeanor that combined kindness with a solid, unyielding presence. “No children after all these years does suggest that perhaps Kristian is the one with issues.”
Freya found herself rendered speechless.
Kristian walked back in with the fruit, only to freeze mid-step, at a complete loss for words.
Isaac, without lowering his newspaper, raised an eyebrow and fixed Kristian with a piercing, meaningful gaze. “Kristian, are you impotent?”
Kristian’s complexion darkened with irritation. “You might be impotent, but I’m certainly not.”
“If I were truly impotent, then how do you explain your existence?” Isaac shot back, his retort sharp and biting.
Stunned into silence once more, Kristian stood frozen, the tension palpable.
“Kristian, why are you just standing there?” Lionel’s voice sliced through the awkward silence, cold and disapproving as if Kristian were a stranger rather than his own grandson. “Bring the fruit over to Freya, now.”
Kristian carried the fruit over to Freya with a heavy sigh, placing it gently before her. He then slid into the seat next to her.
Just as he was about to mention the divorce to Freya, Lionel interjected with a pointed observation, “Freya seems reserved, reluctant to touch the fruit. As her husband, shouldn’t you be offering some encouragement? Why sit there in silence?”
“So, just to confirm, am I adopted?” Kristian finally blurted out.
Melinda shook her head firmly. “No, you’re not.”
Isaac, with a sly smile, joked, “You were part of a special promotion.”
Kristian just stared, completely at a loss.
Breaking the uneasy quiet, Freya took a deep breath and addressed the group with a sense of resolve. “Isaac, Melinda, Lionel,” she began, her tone serious yet gentle, “we need to discuss something important today.”
Melinda and Lionel leaned forward, their faces lighting up with anticipation. “Are you pregnant? How many months? When did you find out?”
Freya’s heart sank at their enthusiasm, knowing she was about to shatter their expectations. “I’m planning to divorce Kristian,” she announced softly, her voice steady.
The room’s atmosphere shifted dramatically, turning cold and tense as the words hung heavily in the air.
Melinda’s hand froze above the fruit, Lionel’s grin slipped away, and Isaac folded his newspaper with a frown. The gravity of the announcement settled over them like a heavy fog.
“Why the sudden decision to divorce?” Melinda broke the silence, her voice a careful blend of concern and curiosity.
Freya began, her tone resolute, as if she were tying off a loose end that had bothered her for too long, “Well, I simply don’t love him anymore.”
“That’s understandable,” Melinda responded, her words measured.
Lionel exhaled a sigh of relief, as if releasing a burden he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.
Across the way, Isaac sent a sharp, unreadable glance towards Kristian.
“That is fine,” Lionel declared with a blunt nod. “Isaac and I will stand behind you as you refine your leadership skills. Freya, you’re going to make a formidable president for Shaw Group.”
For them, love fading felt like nothing more than a small inconvenience.
Emotions could be cultivated, and as long as there weren’t any deep issues, they were confident in their ability to maintain their relationship with Freya.
“We’re serious about this.” Kristian interrupted, his voice carrying a newfound assertiveness. “Everything’s already set in motion. We’ll file the papers on Monday, and once the waiting period passes, we’ll finalize the divorce.”
“Who exactly told you to speak up?” Melinda snapped, irritation flaring in her tone.
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.