?Chapter 461:


    Did he really have no idea why?


    Kristian’s eyes darkened significantly. “If you continue to worry about my interest in your wealth, we could arrange a prenuptial agreement. If your hesitation stems from my divorcing you for Ashley, then perhaps you should remarry me and utilize my financial resources to express your anger.”


    “Money is thest thing Ick,” Freya responded with unrestrained candor.


    Kristian fell silent for several moments.


    In that fleeting interval, he genuinely wished she remained the ordinary woman she had initially appeared to be. He could have provided for her, offered assistance when needed. But the present Freyacked nothing.


    “Not everyone possesses your naivety,” Freya couldn’t resist remarking. “I avoid repeating past mistakes, and I have no inclination to revisit former rtionships.”


    “Do you truly harbor such intense dislike for me?” Kristian disyed visible agitation at her words.


    “Yes,” Freya answered without hesitation.


    “How unfortunate.” Kristian’s eyes revealed an emotion previously absent from them, and his voice deepened noticeably. “The more dismissively you behave, the more fascinated I be with you.”


    Freya shot Kristian a sharp look.


    She desperately wanted to snap at him, but in the end, she bit her tongue and turned toward the window, shutting him out entirely as if flipping a mental switch. The ride continued in a heavy, oppressive silence.


    Kristian pulled up to the hotel where she was staying and stopped.


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    Freya stepped out of the car with swift resolve, not sparing him a single nce as she walked toward the entrance.


    Kristian lingered for a moment, watching her until she disappeared inside the building before finally driving away. He made his way back to Lionel’s birthday banquet.


    As soon as he entered the hotel lobby, he spotted Cyril lounging in the same chair as before.


    Catching sight of him, Cyril stood up immediately and walked over, his eyes flicking behind Kristian, scanning for Freya. Not seeing her, he asked, “Kristian, where’s Freya? Didn’t shee back with you?”


    Kristian paused mid-stride, his expression darkening like a storm rolling in.


    Cyril shifted ufortably, unsettled by the weight of that stare. “What’s wrong?”


    “Do you have a crush on her?” Kristian asked, his height adding to the pressure of his presence, which felt as suffocating as it was intense.


    Cyril scratched his head awkwardly, like a kid caught with a schoolyard crush. “Well… yeah, a little. She’s beautiful, sweet, and just… has this great vibe.”


    Kristian ran his fingers along the edge of his phone, tension radiating from him.


    “Do you even know who she is?” His voice dropped lower, cold and tight, frustration curling in his chest. Cyril blinked in confusion. “Huh?”


    “She’s my ex-wife.” The words sliced through the air, his toneced with a warning—Freya wasn’t avable.


    But Cyril, being who he was, rarely picked up on subtle messages or heavy undertones.


    Hearing that, he replied without missing a beat, “Don’t worry, I’ll treat her well.”


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