?Chapter 872:


    Just then, Freya’s phone chimed.


    She froze, caught off guard by the sudden sound. Her brows pinched together in confusion, as if the ringtone itself didn’t make sense. “Freya, your phone,” Frederick said, his voice low but steady despite the nerves tightening in his chest.


    Of course, she knew—it was her phone, after all. But the timing was too coincidental. Could this be it? Could Ellis really be calling her? Was this his way of confessing?


    Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the phone. She nced at the screen. Kristian?


    Everyone else stiffened. Greta’s lips parted in surprise. Trent blinked in disbelief. Frederick stared, speechless.


    They all swung their heads toward Ellis, their expressions asking the same question.


    Wait—didn’t Ellis just make that call?


    Ellis listened to the mechanical voice on the line, its tone t and indifferent. The number he had dialed was currently busy.


    He flicked his gaze up at Kristian, who was clutching his own phone, and felt not the slightest hint of surprise.


    It was in as day—Kristian’s mental faculties had returned to normal. There was no way Kristian would sit back and let him pour out his feelings uninterrupted.


    “Why are you calling me?” Freya didn’t bother answering. Instead, she tilted her head, locking eyes with Kristian, who was already staring at her with intense, undivided attention.


    “Ellis is trying to call his crush and confess,” Kristian said, his tone brisk and straightforward. “So I figured I’d do the same. Freya, I really love you. Will you be my girlfriend?”


    Full cont3nt h3re: g??lnovels.??????


    The instant those words left his lips, all eyes darted to Freya.


    The group exchanged wary nces, silently rooting for Ellis. Ellis, however, remainedposed, his expression unreadable, as though none of it concerned him.


    Kristian noticed Freya’s silence and pressed gently, “Freya?”


    “No…” Freya had barely whispered the word when the door suddenly burst open with a bang.


    A volley of confetti cannons exploded, showering the room in a rain of vibrant streamers and petals.


    Kristian tucked his phone into his pocket, stood up, and walked toward the door. There, Gerard was waiting with a grand bouquet of red roses. The bodyguards at the entrance snapped into position, forming two tidy lines that parted to clear a path.


    Kristian, cradling the bouquet, walked slowly, deliberately, his eyes fixed only on Freya. He stopped in front of her and held out the roses. “Freya, I really love you. Will you be with me?”


    “Say yes!”


    “Say yes!”


    “Say yes!”


    The bodyguards broke into a chant, their voices echoing in perfect rhythm. Gerard, stationed quietly at the side like always, winced with secondhand dread. If he had to stake his life on it—Kristian was going to get turned down.


    “Stop this nonsense,” Freya said, rising to her feet, her tone cold and unwavering as she refused the bouquet.


    “I’m serious,” Kristian murmured, stepping closer, his voice soft but firm. “I really do love you. I want you in my future. I know I’ve done a lot to hurt you before, but I’m asking for a chance—to make it right.”


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