?Chapter 477:


    Divorce hadn’t even crossed Felipe’s mind. Freya’s words caught him off guard. “She wants to see me?”


    “She just needs time—to think, to breathe,” Freya replied, choosing not to spell it out.


    That alone made Felipe pause. He assumed, perhaps rightly, that his behavior had been too much of a shock. Maybe she just wasn’t ready yet.


    That thought gave him the smallest piece of relief.


    If she still wanted to see him eventually, then he could wait.


    “Take care of her for now,” Felipe said, his eyes locking onto Freya. “If you need anything, tell me.”


    “No need,” Freya replied tly, brushing past him without another nce.


    If she were being honest, her only request would have been for him to stay away from Farrah altogether.


    But she didn’t say it. She knew it would only trigger another round of arguments. One Kristian was more than enough—she didn’t need a second version.


    Felipe watched her walk away. Once her figure disappeared down the corridor, he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his old messages with Farrah.


    Each one had failed to deliver. She had blocked him.


    He couldn’t even figure out how things had spiraled this far. It hadn’t always been like this.


    After leaving, Freya finally made her way to the second-floor restroom in the hotel. As she stood there, she made a quiet decision: unless absolutely necessary, she wouldn’t step foot in Jeucwell again. Not even for Lionel. She’d stay in touch online.


    She and Kristian were divorced. When it came to personal ties, that meant she owed nothing to his family anymore.


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    With that in mind, Freya exhaled slowly, the air catching in her chest like it had been stuck there all night. She moved to the sink, tried a few of the automatic faucets—all broken. She finally turned to a manual one.


    But the moment she touched it, a violent burst of water came flying out, soaking her instantly.


    Had she not jumped back, she would’ve been drenched from head to toe.


    After examining the faucet’s excessive water pressure, she went to find hotel staff and report the issue.


    “I’m terribly sorry for the trouble, ma’am,” the staff member said, apologizing sincerely before rushing to get someone to handle it.


    Freya waved it off. They then offered her a room to dry her hair. Seeing her damp clothes, they brought her something fresh to change into and even asked if she needed help drying her original outfit. Thinking she’d need it the next morning, Freya handed over her coat. Once the staff left, a change flickered through her eyes—calm, but calcting.


    Faucets at a hotel like this didn’t just malfunction. Not all of them. And especially not during such a high-profile birthday banquet.


    No, this wasn’t an ident. Someone had set this up.


    Just as that realization settled in her mind, a faint scent drifted through the air—subtle, fragrant. Freya sniffed twice, narrowing her eyes.


    She nced around the suite, trying to track down the source, but before she could get far, the half-open door creaked wider. And there he was. Kristian. Standing in the doorway like he owned the moment.


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