?Chapter 388:
Watching the tension simmer like a pot on the verge of boiling over, Ethel quietly sat down nearby, choosing the role of silent spectator rather than stepping into the storm.
This wasn’t a scene meant for interruption. It was theater—messy, unscripted, and charged.
“Freya,” Kristian called her name again, his voice a strange cocktail of warmth and ice. “You ought to have at least a shred of conscience. If I end up trapped in a loveless marriage, you’ll carry part of that burden.”
Freya stared at him in disbelief. “How about you try having a little self-respect first?”
“That deal we made? It’s off the table,” Kristian dered, as if reiming a lost battlefield. “Instead of staying out of your way, the new arrangement is this—you stay with me until my grandpa finally drops the idea of pushing me to another random woman.”
The deration seemed to offer him a moment of relief.
Lately, he’d been haunted by regret—why had he ever agreed to terms that gained him nothing? If he failed those three challenges, would that mean losing her forever?
The thought gnawed at him, especially when images of her first love or that ever-hovering Charlie danced through his mind like unwee ghosts.
Freya’s brows pinched together. Her voice came low and biting. “Keep dreaming.”
With that, she turned to leave.
But Kristian caught her arm again.
Freya wasn’t the type to be flustered by such tactics anymore. She had always been able to shake off his grip with ease.
Yet this time, when she tried to slip free using her usual technique—she couldn’t.
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She tried again. Still held fast.
A third time—and still, his hand stayed mped like iron.
She quickly realized: there would be no easy escape today.
“You really think I let you go all those other times because I couldn’t stop you?” Kristian leaned in, closing the space between them. The sudden proximity triggered a reflex in Freya. She wanted to get away—fast.
She hated this suffocating atmosphere.
And she liked Kristian even less.
Kristian nced at Ethel, who remained seated nearby, and turned back to Freya. “Are you going toe quietly, or do I need to drag you?”
“Don’t push your luck,” Freya snapped, fury flickering in her eyes.
Seeing the fire in her eyes, Kristian’s expression softened—just a bit.
At least she wasn’t brushing him off like he didn’t exist.
His lips parted, the words slow and measured. “The choice is yours.”
“She,” Freya called out firmly, her mind made up.
Ethel stood up at once.
Freya gave instructions calmly. “Call the bodyguards to pick you up. I’ll go with him.”
As she spoke, she subtly moved the hand Kristian wasn’t holding.
The silent code between sisters ran deeper than blood. Ethel had been about to question her—what business could she possibly have at Kristian’s ce? But Freya’s discreet signal told her everything she needed.
Ethel nodded and responded in a hushed voice, “Okay.”
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