Kingsley Industries.
Soren sat in his office, his gaze locked on nothing and everything at once. The image of Freya hugging that man kept flashing in his mind like a cruel loop, fuelling a storm inside him. His jaw tightened. The possessive rage simmered beneath his calm exterior, threatening to crack through the cold mask he always wore.
Riyan stood quietly to the side, watching his boss with an expression of disbelief. He had never seen any emotion on Soren's face before—nothing. No anger, no joy, no sadness. Just the same unreadable, ruthless calm. But now? There was something different. And it all seemed to start after she came into his life.
Could one woman truly be the reason behind this shift?
Before Riyan could dwell further, the door to the office swung open—without a knock.
A young man strolled in casually and dropped into the chair across from Soren, completely unfazed by the icy silence that followed.
Riyan gave him a quick nod. "Finn," he greeted, keeping his tone neutral.
Finn smirked, totally unfazed. "Riyan, what's up with your boss today? Why's the mood in here so damn toxic?"
Riyan quickly shook his head, saying nothing. There were boundaries even a friend shouldn't cross in front of Soren.
Finn turned to Soren, his tone more direct. "Hey, what happened, man? You look like you're ready to strangle someone. What's got you this pissed off?"
Soren didn't respond right away. He slowly reached for a file, ignoring Finn's question. Then he finally spoke, his voice clipped and cold. "How many times have I told you, Finn? Don't walk in here without knocking."
Finn pouted, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. "Dude, I'm your friend! Have a little respect for that title, will you? What, friends need appointments now?"
Soren didn't entertain the protest. "If you're here for work, speak. If not, you know where the door is."
Finn's smirk faded, replaced by a rare look of seriousness. "People from Malaysia are flying in tonight. They're staying at Kingsley Hotel. They want to finalize the five-billion-dollar deal with you."
Soren said nothing. Riyan quickly jotted the details down, used to Soren's silent approvals.
Finn lingered, observing Soren closely. "Something's happened, hasn't it?" he asked, cautiously. "You were always ice-cold. But now, there's something in your eyes—something I've never seen before."
Soren's glare snapped to him with such intensity that Finn visibly flinched.
"Okay, okay! I get it," Finn muttered, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll stop. Dad called me to the office anyway. I'll catch you tonight."
With that, Finn disappeared, leaving behind the faint tension he'd stirred up in the room.
---
Kingsley Villa.
Freya stood by the window, arms folded tightly across her chest as she stared out into the endless distance. Her eyes were glossy, haunted by a strange emptiness. She should've been happy—her mother's surgery had gone well, a miracle she'd desperately prayed for.
But happiness didn't come without a price.
She was shackled to a man she couldn't understand—trapped in a marriage born out of compulsion rather than love. A contract. A cage. Soren was a puzzle with jagged edges, and every time she tried to piece him together, he only grew more fragmented and cold.
Her phone rang, cutting through the silence. The name on the screen: Hannah.
Freya hesitated before answering.
"Freya! Where have you been?" Hannah's voice burst out in panic. "Two days! No calls, no texts. You've vanished! And you're not even showing up at work. What the hell is going on?"
Freya forced a faint smile, even though Hannah couldn't see her. "I'm okay… don't worry."
Hannah wasn't buying it. "Bullshit. I know your voice. You sound like someone's ripped the soul out of you. Tell me. Now."
Tears welled up in Freya's eyes. There was no strength left in her to lie. Slowly, she began to speak—about the marriage, the contract, the coldness, the confusion, the pain. Everything she'd buried inside since the day her world had shifted.
When she was done, Hannah was fuming. "He did what? Who the hell does he think he is? Freya, you're not some object to be owned or controlled! Tell me where you are—I'll come get you right now. I swear I'll drag you out of that goddamn palace myself."
Freya wiped her tears, her voice trembling. "I… I can't, Hannah. I signed a contract. If I break any of the rules, I have to pay one million dollars. I don't have that kind of money."
She hesitated. "And… he paid for Mom's surgery. I can't—won't—betray that debt. No matter how cruel he is, I can't erase that kindness."
There was silence on the other end, and then Hannah sighed. "I just want you to be safe, Freya. Oh—and I almost forgot. Liam called me. He's been trying to reach you. He said your number's been blacklisted. Is that true?"
Freya's brows furrowed. "Blacklisted? I never blocked anyone…"
Confused, she opened her settings and checked. Her breath caught—Liam's number was there, in the blacklist. But how? She hadn't done it. It didn't make sense.
"He sounded desperate," Hannah added. "Told me to contact you as soon as I could."
Freya said nothing, her mind spinning. Had someone else tampered with her phone? If so—who? And why?
The two friends continued to talk, trying to make sense of everything, clinging to the only normalcy Freya had left—this one genuine connection.
---
Elsewhere...
Inside a private suite at a luxury hotel, the air was thick with smoke and tension. Several men sat around a glass table, their expressions grim.
One of them slammed his fist on the table. "Boss, if this continues, our entire operation is going to collapse. We need a solution. Fast."
Another man snapped in response, "Just take him out. Eliminate him, and all our problems disappear."
A third man, older and calmer, interjected. "We need to think. This is Soren we're talking about. You don't make a move against that man unless you have a death wish. If we try anything, he'll bury us."
The room fell silent.
They all knew the truth of those words. Soren wasn't just powerful—he was merciless. A ghost in the world of crime and power, impossible to corner and lethal when provoked.
Finally, the man lounging on the sofa took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly.
"I'll talk to the Boss," he said calmly. "Let him decide the next move."
Everyone nodded. Right now, their only hope lay in someone stronger than even Soren.
---
Kingsley Palace.
In the grand hall, the walls echoed with muted conversation. Members of the inner circle filled the room, and a few unfamiliar faces dotted the crowd.
Alister stood at the center, smiling smoothly as he entertained a cluster of influential figures.
An elderly man stepped forward and spoke in a quiet but firm tone. "Alister… I hope you haven't forgotten your promise."
Alister's smile widened slightly, his tone silk-smooth. "Of course not. I never forget a vow. My promises," he said, "are etched in stone—unchanging and eternal."
.