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Chapter 10 - tristsn anger / Freya goes to the office

Richard said nothing. After listening to Freya's words, he merely looked at her—just once—and then turned away, stepping out of the hospital room in cold silence. He understood. There was no point in trying to reason with her right now. Freya wouldn't listen—her rage had taken over. He would come back another day… perhaps when the storm in her eyes had quieted.

As Richard's footsteps faded, Freya moved to sit beside her mother, her heart still pounding. Her voice trembled, laced with protective fear.

"Mom… did he say something to you? Did he hurt you in any way?"

Lucia offered her daughter a soft, tired smile, shaking her head.

"No, darling. He came in just ten minutes before you did. He only asked about my health… and about you. He didn't know Helena had thrown you out."

Freya's hands clenched into fists in her lap. Her jaw tensed. She knew better. Her father's concern was just a performance—a shallow display for his own convenience. If he had really cared about her, or her mother, he wouldn't have vanished from their lives in the first place. He wouldn't need an update; he'd already be there.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Lucia's gentle voice.

"Freya... does Soren make you happy? Does he understand you? Have you met his family yet? Do they like you?"

Freya froze. Her chest tightened. Her mother's hopeful eyes stared into hers, waiting for a sweet, reassuring answer. But the truth? The truth was bitter.

Soren wasn't someone she truly knew yet. In fact, she hadn't even met a single member of his infamous Kingsley family. She didn't want to. Every moment she had spent with Soren felt suffocating—chained by silence, restrained by fear. Happiness was a word that hadn't visited her in a long time.

But Freya forced a smile, pushing down her truth like a blade into her chest.

"Yes, Mom. Soren is… very kind. He takes good care of me. His family is lovely too."

Lucia's smile deepened, and Freya's heart ached. She couldn't give her mother more pain—not after all she had endured. If hiding the truth meant sparing her, then Freya would lie through her teeth.

---

Kingsley Hotel

Soren stepped out of the conference room, the tail end of a high-stakes meeting still echoing in his mind. Rian followed him, phone in hand, murmuring updates. But Soren stopped abruptly as a figure emerged from the hallway ahead—Tristan.

Their eyes locked.

Tristan's smirk was immediate, cocky, full of misplaced warmth.

"Soren, my little brother. It's been so long. And you're just going to walk past without saying a word to your big brother?"

Soren's eyes turned icy. He didn't stop. Didn't slow. But Tristan blocked his path with practiced ease.

Soren's voice dropped low, slicing through the air like a winter wind.

"I don't talk to men who wear masks. Who smile with their lips while sharpening knives behind backs. If there's nothing else, move."

Tristan's smile faltered just a fraction, though his facade held firm.

"Come on, little brother. You know how much I care about you. I've always looked out for you—"

Soren chuckled darkly, eyes narrowing.

"Is that what you call it? 'Caring'? Is that why you interfere in my deals? Why you spy on me like a coward hiding behind guards? Don't insult my intelligence."

The smile on Tristan's face began to crack. The pressure in his jaw, the twitch in his eye—it all gave him away.

Soren leaned in, his voice now venom.

"Save the performance for the public. Don't play the doting brother here. I see right through you."

With that, Soren brushed past him, leaving nothing but tension in the air.

Tristan's fists curled. As soon as Soren disappeared from sight, he slammed his hand into the wall, fury breaking free.

"Soren… you keep pushing me. Keep giving me reasons to destroy you. One day, little brother, I'll erase you from this world."

A voice cut through his rage.

"Sir, the clients are waiting."

Tristan adjusted his tie, regaining his composure like slipping into a second skin.

"Let them wait. I'm ready now."

---

Back at Freya's Office

Freya walked into her workplace quietly, her steps hesitant but determined. She had only come to collect her belongings, but the moment she entered, eyes turned to her. Every employee who saw her remembered her kindness, her soft strength—Freya had always been there for them.

As she reached her desk, Hannah rushed toward her and pulled her into a tight hug. Tears glimmered in both their eyes.

"You have no idea how worried I was when you told me you got married," Hannah whispered.

Freya smiled faintly, brushing a tear away.

"You know I'd do anything for my mom. But I'll make it right. I'll pay every cent back and free her from this nightmare."

Before Hannah could answer, a staff member interrupted.

"Freya, the boss is asking for you. Please go to his office."

Freya nodded, left her bag on the desk, and made her way to the executive floor.

---

Inside the glass-walled office, Max Davis sat behind his desk, reviewing a file. He looked up as Freya entered, and the cold steel in his expression melted into something softer—dangerously so.

Max stood up and approached her, his tone laced with concern that barely masked obsession.

"Freya, where have you been? You didn't tell me anything. Did something happen? If there's a problem, I'll fix it."

Freya immediately took a step back. His nearness unsettled her.

"It was a family emergency. That's why I took leave. Did you call me for something specific, sir?"

Max's gaze lingered a moment too long before he handed her a document and returned to his chair.

"I've promoted you. You're now my personal secretary. You'll attend all my meetings, handle my schedule… and yes, your salary's been tripled."

Freya blinked in shock. Promotions weren't due anytime soon—and this wasn't a raise. This was an elevation designed to bind her close.

The number on the paper made her head spin. That amount could solve so many problems. But Max's next words made her hesitate.

"You'll be with me. At all times."

Her instincts screamed caution. She knew what Max felt. He had never voiced it, but his eyes had always claimed her. And yet, she had no choice. She had signed a contract—one she couldn't break unless she paid half a million dollars in breach.

After a long pause, Freya forced herself to nod.

"I'll take it."

She returned to her desk, trying to steady her breath. She told Hannah everything, and while Hannah knew exactly the kind of man Max was, they both agreed—he couldn't try anything within the office walls. Not yet. And with the salary that high, it was a gamble worth the risk.

---

Kingsley Industries

Soren sat behind his massive desk, reviewing documents, when his phone rang.

A call from his information unit.

The update was sharp and simple: Freya had gone straight to her office after visiting the hospital.

His hand stilled. His jaw clenched. His eyes turned dark.

There was a clause in the contract—clear as day. Freya was not allowed to work. She belonged to him. Her time, her presence… her life.

He ended the call and leaned back, the storm already brewing behind his cold expression.

"So… my sweet Freya," he murmured, "you're trying to provoke me. Again."

A bitter smile tugged at his lips.

"Why work, when I can give you everything? Do you think I'm someone to be taken lightly?" His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "You're making a mistake, sweetheart. One I'll have to punish."

And punish he would.

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