?Chapter 462:


    Kristian’s gaze turned cial. Was this guy seriously this dense?


    “If you don’t trust me, I can even make a promise to my dad and the others. I’ll take it easy with her,” Cyril added, mistaking Kristian’s intensity for concern over his past reputation. “From now on, if I even think about partying, I’ll transfer all my assets to Freya’s name.”


    “She doesn’t like men who’ve been around too many women,” Kristian said tly, each word carrying deliberate weight.


    “I was just fooling around!” Cyril rushed to exin, terrified of losing his chance. “I swear, I’ve only ever put an arm around a girl’s waist—nothing more!”


    He wasn’t the type to sleep around; in fact, he was still a virgin.


    Kristian’s eyes locked onto him, cold and unreadable.


    Sensing disbelief, Cyril doubled down. “Seriously! If you don’t believe me, you can ask my friends.”


    “She likes men who are steady and mature,” Kristian added,nding another blow.


    Anyone with half a brain would’ve gotten the message loud and clear by now—Kristian wasn’t trying to discourage him.


    But Cyril was too dense.


    “Feelings can grow with time,” he said cheerfully. “Maybe she likes mature guys now because she hasn’t seen how fun someone younger can be.” He shed a smile, a dimple forming on his cheek. “Don’t worry, Kristian. I’m not backing down over something like this!”


    Kristian felt the irritation bubbling in his chest, demanding to be let out.


    He stared at Cyril, his tone razor-sharp. “Is that so?”


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    “Yes.”


    “Do you even know who your rival is?” Cyril’s whole body stiffened.


    He hesitated before asking, “You mean… Trent Seymour?”


    “Yes,” Kristian replied, moving closer.


    “Oh, that’s fine then. Trent’s just like you,” Cyril said, his words careless and oblivious.


    In fact, he looked a little hopeful. “If you couldn’t keep her, Trent probably won’t either. That means I’ve still got a shot!”


    Whatever hints Kristian had been dropping before, they were gone now—his coldness was no longer subtle.


    He stepped forward, his presence swallowing the space between them.


    “And what if I’m your rival?”


    Cyril froze, the air catching in his throat as his heart picked up speed. “Do you still think you’ve got a chance?” Kristian’s voice was low and steady, but the chill in his eyes didn’t waver.


    Cyril wanted to say that Freya had already divorced him—that technically meant he’d already lost.


    Fighting someone who’d already failed shouldn’t even count.


    But the words stuck. Kristian’s aura was too much.


    “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear earlier,” Kristian said, his tone colder than ever. “Let me put it inly—Freya is mine.”


    Cyril felt himself starting to sweat under the weight of that stare, especially with how deliberately Kristian was cornering him.


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