
Looking for Alpha’s Mistake, Luna’s Revenge
Looking for this novel, free link to read

Looking for this novel, free link to read
Looking for the link to this! Thanks :)
Chapter 1
The day after my postpartum depression diagnosis, Brennon Ashford, my husband, drove me out to a house on the edge of the city and left me there to recover
Searching for the story. does anyone have a free link?
Taking his place on the throne, the King crowned his golden girl his queen.
I, on the other hand, was granted two choices—retire from court with a hefty fortune or be his kept mistress in the dark.
Choosing neither, I hung myself on the clothesline right outside the laundress quarters.
I had been sent back twenty years in time, tasked by the System to conquer four targets. I’d just blown the last target and my final chance to complete the quest.
The System notified me that following the death of my flesh, my consciousness would return to the modern world, back to the arms of my family.
Just as I closed my eyes, the desperate cries of my name caught my attention.
Chapter 1
I grabbed the sturdiest belt by the washbasin, tied it into a silly bow, and hung myself from the clothesline.
Fearing my first attempt wasn’t lethal enough, I added another knot for good measure.
The System promised that if I died in this body within seven days, I’d be granted three months back in my original world to be with my family.
With zero attachment to this world, I kicked the stool under my feet.
The noose cinched tight, cutting the air off my lungs.
In my hazy, bloodshot vision, memories of this world played before my eyes like scenes from a movie.
I was a transmigrator from another world. By conquering any of the four male targets, I could get my life back, where I had died in a car crash.
The targets assigned to me by the System were great catches, all heroes in their own right. However, thanks to the heroine, they hated my guts and saw me as a sworn enemy.
Now that I’d failed the mission, the only way out was death. At least, these men would be free of me, too.
As I closed my eyes, someone screamed my name.
After a violent coughing fit, a hand grabbed my chin.
A devastatingly gorgeous face loomed over me, complete with the familiar teardrop mole at the corner of his eye.
“Lucian?”
Remorse washed over me the moment the name left my lips.
Lucian Baler was no longer my fragile crybaby of a protégé.
Sure enough, Lucian recoiled in disgust when I spoke his name.
“Watch your tongue. My name isn’t yours to speak.”
The man in a red robe was the youngest High Chancellor in the kingdom and one of my four targets.
Back then, I had been living on the streets before House Thornfield came for me.
On a rainy day, I stumbled upon a boy on the brink of starvation.
The only food I had was half a piece of bread, and I gave it to him. Since then, the boy clung to me like a shadow, and I couldn’t get rid of him.
He was once a sheltered young heir of a noble lineage until his family was slaughtered under false charges.
Sure, I was down on my luck. At least, I’d had proper modern-day education and read my fair share of history books.
I took Lucian as my protégé, teaching him to lie low and practice patience.
On nights he stirred awake from nightmares, I’d simply make him a nice hot pie.
Under my guidance, Lucian grew into an extraordinary young man. Step by step, he climbed the ranks and eventually cleared his family’s name.
I was his teacher and family.
Back then, I believed we’d look out for one another like a real family.
That all changed a year ago, in early summer, on the very night I was to be betrothed to the then Crown Prince.
Tara Thornfield—the adopted daughter of House Thornfield who had stolen my life for sixteen years—was kidnapped by bandits and never seen again.
With her dying breath, her maid swore that it had been my doing—that I had led her into the wild and abandoned her there.
Everyone was convinced that I had killed her.
My own brother crippled my hands and cast me out.
The Crown Prince, my supposed soulmate, broke our engagement and threw me into the laundress quarters to serve as his secret, disgraced chambermaid.
Lucian, the protégé I raised to be a High Chancellor, paid the servants to make my life hell every day.
Now that Tara was back, the King was making her Queen. The System declared that I’d lost my last target and blown the mission. I needed to get out of the world right away.
As I hung my head low in silence, Lucian somehow became annoyed.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?
“His Majesty’s heart has always belonged to Tara. They are celebrated as a perfect pair. Do you think they care whether you live or die?
“Save me the act. You make me sick!”
I thought my heart would break at the same old insult.
However, the mission was over, and I was going home. For once, I cut the tongue-lashing and nodded in agreement.
“You’re right.
“No one cares about my life, so leave me alone. I’m pressed for time.”
Before Lucian could do anything, I slammed headfirst into a nearby bronze basin.
Chapter 2
It wasn’t the gruesome bloodbath I had braced for.
Putting his hand out, Lucian shielded my head from the collision.
His fair, long fingers were gashed by the bronze, and blood seeped through the skin.
I remembered the days when I kept us fed by selling pies. I wouldn’t even let him gather wood, all to keep his hands for writing.
Yet, he cared little for his livelihood.
The rage in Lucian’s eyes threatened to burst out.
“What has gotten into you, Lyra Thornfield?
“Your sad little suicide stunt isn’t going to make up for what you did to Tara.
“So, save it!”
I smiled bitterly to myself.
“So why are you stopping me? Isn’t it better if I pay for your beloved Tara with my life?”
Julian’s expression tightened with unease.
“I-I just can’t allow you to die today. It’s the day Tara becomes Queen. Your death will reflect badly on her.”
I was lost for words. That was rather thoughtful of Lucian.
Lucian had only known Tara for four years, not even half the time he and I had spent together. Yet, Tara was already a sister to him.
With Lucian getting in the way, I would struggle to end my life.
Turning on my heel, I retrieved the coins gifted by the King.
“His Majesty has granted my release from the palace. You may leave, my Lord.”
I sauntered out. Instead of going our separate ways, he trailed behind me.
“You’re always up to something. For all I know, you might come between His Majesty and Tara. It’s my duty as the High Chancellor to keep you under my watch.
“At the very least, I must ensure that you stay with House Thornfield.
My footsteps came to a halt.
House Thornfield…
That was my home in this quest world.
They were the family I shared a bloodline with.
However, my time with them lasted two brief years, barely a shadow of Tara’s childhood.
I was an unwelcome presence in House Thornfield, the one who had almost killed the adopted child they loved above all.
For a minute there, I thought I would never go back to them.
However, the manor was a good place to get away from Lucian.
It held the one person who hated me the most—my brother, Commander Sylas Thornfield.
I stepped into the manor to find the servants cleaning Tara’s chambers.
Next door, my chamber door stayed shut, the lock covered in a thick layer of dust.
Sitting in the gazebo, Sylas hunched over tallow candles and worked late into the night to craft a bow of polished bone.
If I wasn’t mistaken, Tara had always shown a keen interest in archery, and Sylas wasn’t one to let her down.
Sylas scoffed at the sound of my footsteps and lifted the unfinished bow to fire an arrow.
The arrow, aimed at my face, landed right at the tips of my boots.
“Who permitted you to enter? I told you that you are not welcome here.”
I smiled wryly, my mind wandering to the time I was first brought home. Sylas stared at my calloused hands in heartbroken tears.
“Fear not, Lyra. You’re home. You have me now, and I will keep you from harm. You don’t have to put yourself through so much now.”
On the surface, Tara kept the sweet act of a sister, but the next minute, she’d jump into the icy lake, accusing me of pushing her.
Without hesitation, Sylas pulled Tara out of the water and turned to me, his eyes full of blame.
“Lyra, Tara is my sister too.”
When Tara went missing, Sylas threw me into a cell and slashed my wrists, demanding her whereabouts.
It was once my dream to master the family’s swordsmanship, but I was left a cripple, never to lift a blade again.
I couldn’t even defend myself during the beatings at the palace.
Observing Sylas’ attitude, Lucian became hesitant.
“Commander, she tried to take her life twice at the laundress quarters today…”
The disdain on Sylas’ face grew.
“And you believe her, Chancellor?
“You, of all people, should know her. You won’t find another woman as cunning as her in the kingdom.
“She’s not afraid to risk her life to gain an edge.”
Convinced, Lucian nodded with a wry grin.
“You are right. I was careless to forget the kind of person she is.”
Sylas secured the last piece of attachment to the bow before getting up. He was due at the palace to celebrate Tara’s consecration as Queen.
He gave me a look of disgust.
“You are permitted to stay for one night. I want you out by tomorrow. I won’t have Tara’s joy soured by your presence—”
Before Sylas could finish, I lunged for the arrow on the ground.
I plunged the sharp tip into my chest.
Color drained from Sylas’ face.
Chapter 3
“Are you trying to get yourself killed, Lyra?
“The arrows of our House are dipped in venom. You know that!”
Of course, I did. The poison arrows were Tara’s idea. According to her, our soldiers could inflict better damage on enemies. even when they missed their marks.
I voiced my objections, concerned that the plan could backfire on our men.
Sylas retorted in annoyance, “Our men are trained, not fools who would hurt themselves. Lyra, you don’t have the grit of this House, unlike Tara.”
Now, this poison arrow could very well facilitate my departure from this world.
Tossing the bone bow aside, Sylas sprinted toward me and tore the fabric from my shoulder.
He pressed his lips against my wound, drawing out the venom.
It took three long pulls for my blood to be cleared of poison. By then, Sylas’ complexion was pale.
He screamed for the antidote and forced the liquid down my throat.
Following my refusal to swallow, Sylas smacked me hard in exasperation.
“How much longer are you going to keep this up?
“Don’t you get it? His Majesty feels nothing for you. If he did, he would’ve named you his Queen, not kept you as a laundress and chambermaid.
“You chose to take the coins and leave the palace, so show some dignity to live. Don’t disgrace the honor of our House!”
I burst out laughing.
“Honor? Where was your honor when you crippled me for no crime at all?”
Sylas was at a loss.
Then came the frantic thuds of hooves outside the door.
The King’s Royal Guards stormed the gates.
“By order of the King, Lyra is to be captured and brought back to the palace.
“Her Majesty the Queen is missing again.”
All matters related to Tara put Sylas and Lucian on edge. They grabbed my arms, one on each side.
“I see. What did you do to Tara now? This fake suicide of yours is just a distraction to cover your tracks.”
I was stunned, unable to believe that Tara would keep up with the disappearing act.
It was my chance to escape.
Their obsession with Tara had reached the point of madness. For all I knew, they might kill me to keep her safe.
Without a word, I let them escort me back to the palace.
Leon Lionheart, the King, narrowed his eyes at the blood on my shoulder.
Sylas explained, “Don’t be deceived, Your Majesty. She pretended to kill herself. That was all.”
Leon nodded before putting his hands around my neck.
“Where have you hidden Tara?”
Looking up, I met the gaze of the man I’d shared so many nights with. His eyes were filled with deep resentment.
His mind drifted to the time we first met.
During the struggle for the crown, Leon was hunted relentlessly by rival heirs.
Risking my life, I drew his pursuers away.
I later snuck back and offered myself to help him get rid of aphrodisiac effects.
When Leon came to, he learned that I had been rejected by my fiancé and shamed before the whole city.
He promised he would make things right. Once he took the throne, I would be his Queen.
However, that changed when Tara came into the picture.
Leon compared Tara’s brilliance to the sun while I was a mere flickering firefly next to her.
When news came of Tara’s disappearance, Leon lost his cool for the first time and led his army against the bandits, heedless of royal disapproval.
Despite my denial of involvement, Leon was dead set on breaking the engagement.
Back then, he looked at me in callousness, declaring that I was unfit to be his bride as I had lost my virtue to him before marriage.
From that point on, I was nothing but a shamed laundress, at the mercy of his desires every night.
Obsessed with avenging Tara, he was rough in bed and caused me to lose a child.
Leon sneered at my silence. Releasing his grip on me, I fell to the floor.
He ordered the servants to fetch a set of bloodied torture devices—the very same ones he used to break his political rivals.
In his mind, I might as well have been one of his enemies.
“You know the pain these instruments can inflict. Just tell me where Tara is, or I won’t show you mercy.”
I shivered all over.
The only thing on my mind was leaving the world, but I’d rather go without agony.
My fear of pain was no secret to Leon.
Mistaking my behavior for defiance, Leon commanded Sylas and Lucian to pin me down while he carried out the punishment.
“These tools were last used on the Duke of Yves. They are not lethal, but they will make you wish you were dead.
“Even the tough duke confessed his deepest shame. How long do you think you can last until you break?”
As the iron tore into my flesh, I let out a blood-curdling scream.
Sweat broke across my skin in streams.
I couldn’t even stop my tears from falling.
A desperate plea escaped my lips.
“Please, just end me right now…”
Despite the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, Leon showed no signs of stopping.
“I’ll ask you one last time. Where is Tara?”
I was in so much pain that I started laughing.
“Tara? She stole my life for sixteen years. Of course, I killed her!
“She made it out alive the last time, so I had to finish the job.
“Well? Do you hate me now?
“Kill me and avenge her!”
Feeling the rush to his head, Leon grabbed his jeweled dagger and stabbed me hard in the abdomen.
Just as darkness swallowed my consciousness, Tara’s voice boomed.
“Your Majesty? Sylas? Lucian? It’s wonderful that all of you are here. I prepared a little surprise for you…”
Chapter 1
Everyone knew Vivian Hale was taken by force.
She had a boyfriend. Dominic Cross paid over a hundred million dollars to make him disappear. When she still refused to come to him, he locked her inside his estate and took from her day and night until she didn't have the strength to get out of bed.
She hated him enough to press a knife to his throat. He just wiped the blood from his neck, barely interested, and smiled. "Go ahead. Keep trying. If you can't kill me, you'll end up loving me."
Everyone knew the Cross patriarch was unhinged. But for Vivian Hale alone, he would have handed over his life.
He stepped in front of a bullet for her. He got down on his knees to put her shoes on. He sang to her in front of a thousand people at a gala.
The glacier melted. Vivian finally let herself feel something.
Then came their third year of marriage, and a business associate brought a college girl home. Her name was Lily Sawyer. Clear-eyed. Uncomplicated. Exactly what Vivian had looked like when they first met.
One night was all it took. Dominic changed.
He brought her home and told Vivian, without looking up from his phone, "I have enough wealth to keep two women. Plenty of men have done worse."
Vivian felt the words like a bolt through her chest. Her blood went cold. "You said. You said this life, only me."
She couldn't accept it. She tore through the mansion until her hands bled. He didn't send Lily away.
Out of options, she went to Lily herself. She slid a check across the table, a number that should have ended everything.
Lily took it. Then turned around and cried her way back to Dominic.
That same day, Dominic had Vivian's parents bound and driven to an industrial warehouse on the edge of the city. He strung them up over a roaring industrial shredder, the blades going below.
He watched Vivian fall apart with cold eyes. "Nod. Let her stay. And I'll let them go."
Vivian stared at the man she had loved to the bone, her vision drowning in tears. "Dominic! Do you remember how you took me? You said you'd only ever want me. Only ever love me. Three years. Three years, and you just. Stop? Just like that? You lied to me. You lied to me and now it's done?"
Dominic's brow tightened slightly, as if her accusation was an inconvenience. His voice stayed flat. "When did I say I stopped loving you? We registered the marriage in Ireland. You know what that means. I can't dissolve it unilaterally. I still love you."
He paused. His gaze moved briefly to Lily, who was trembling in the corner.
"I've just also fallen in love with Lily."
He said it the way someone mentions the weather. "Nod. Agree to this arrangement. I'll release your parents immediately. We can go back to the way things were."
"The way things were?" Vivian laughed until tears ran down her face. "Dominic. A person only has one heart. How can you split it between two people?"
Dominic didn't answer. He raised his hand.
The man at the winch controls began to ready himself.
Then Dominic started counting. His voice was the cold flat sound of a death sentence. "Ten."
"Nine."
The rope holding Vivian's parents began to lower.
"No! No! Mom! Dad!" Vivian screamed and lunged. The bodyguards caught her and held her back.
"Eight."
"Seven."
The rope dropped another length. The grind of the shredder filled the air like it was already inside her skull.
"Dominic! I hate you! I hate you!" Vivian's voice cracked apart.
"Six."
"Five."
Her parents' screams mixed with the noise of the machine and ate through her eardrums.
"Four!"
"Three!!"
Her parents' feet were almost touching the spinning blades.
"Two!!!"
"I agree! I agree!" In the last second, Vivian broke completely. She screamed until her voice gave out. "Let her stay! I agree! Please let my parents go! Please!"
Dominic raised his hand. The rope stopped.
A trace of satisfaction crossed his face, almost cruel. "This is how it should have been from the start. Why make it this ugly? They're the most important people in your life. I didn't want to hurt them either."
He signaled his men. "Release them."
But then, as his men scrambled at the controls, the rope snapped.
"No!"
Vivian watched her parents drop straight down into the roaring machine.
The screaming stopped. The grinding stopped. Both at once.
Only the red, and the fragments that had scattered across the floor.
The world pressed down like silence.
Vivian stared. Her pupils went wide and loose. Sound, image, sensation, all of it left her.
Something hot and metallic surged up her throat.
Blood burst from her mouth and stained the floor at her feet.
She fell straight back. Darkness swallowed her whole.
Chapter 2
She opened her eyes.
The crystal chandelier overhead. Egyptian cotton sheets beneath her. This was their bedroom, hers and Dominic's.
She sat up hard. Heart slamming. She looked at her hands. Touched her face.
She wasn't dead.
She snatched the phone off the nightstand, hands shaking.
The date on the screen. She had gone back. She was alive, back in time, to the exact day Dominic brought Lily home.
The image of her parents falling into the shredder played on repeat behind her eyes. Pain and despair crashed over her all at once.
Dominic. Lily.
She would never love him again. Not one fraction of one inch.
If he wanted Lily, she'd give him everything he wanted. She just needed her parents safe.
She scrubbed the tears off her face and ran.
She nearly fell down the stairs on her way out. She made it home, half-blind, and found her mother in the kitchen holding a tray of fresh-baked cookies, laughing at something her father had just said.
Vivian's eyes flooded. She crossed the kitchen and pulled them both in, held on.
"Vivian? What's wrong? Bad dream?" Her mother rubbed her back.
Vivian held on for a long time before she could look up. When she did, her eyes were steadier than they had ever been. "Mom. Dad. I'm divorcing Dominic. When it's done, we're leaving. All of us. We're never coming back."
Her parents stared at each other.
"Vivian." Her father's brow creased. "What are you talking about? Dominic was extreme at the beginning, yes, but look at these past years. He stepped in front of a bullet for you. He got down on his knees and begged you to forgive him. He dropped a hundred billion in business to take you to Iceland and stand in the snow for a week just because you said once that you wanted to see the Northern Lights. You finally got to where you accepted him, married him. And now out of nowhere..."
Her mother joined in. "Did you have a fight? Every couple..."
"It's not a fight."
Vivian cut them off. The ache in her chest was too sharp for words.
She knew. She didn't understand it, how the man who had loved her that fiercely could flip that easily, could do what he did. But she couldn't tell them about the other life. She could only say it again and again, steady as she could: "Trust me. Once. I have a reason I can't explain. Please."
Her parents looked at her face, at the pain in it and the absolute certainty underneath. They sighed. And believed her.
She calmed them down, then went and handled two things immediately. First, she went to the city precinct and filed a legal death declaration for herself. Second, she applied for legal name changes for all three of them.
She knew Dominic. He would never sign divorce papers. The only way out of the marriage was to be legally dead. And the name changes would cut off any future trail he might follow.
The paperwork would take a few days. To avoid raising his suspicion, she had to go back to the gilded cage in the meantime.
She stepped into the mansion's front living room and found Dominic's arm around Lily's waist, murmuring something close to her ear.
He glanced up when he heard her come in. His tone was the casual indifference of someone giving instructions to household staff. "Vivian. Come here."
He kept Lily close, one arm around her, and said the exact words Vivian already knew by heart from her other life: "This is Lily. She'll be living here from now on. I love you both. My wealth is more than enough for two. I want you to coexist peacefully and stay with me forever."
In the first life, those words had shattered her. She would have screamed and destroyed the room.
This time, she looked at him calmly. The faintest edge of something crossed her mouth. "Fine. I agree."
Dominic's eyes flickered with clear surprise. He hadn't expected compliance. "You're not going to fight me on this?"
Vivian lowered her gaze. Her voice carried nothing. "What would be the point? You said yourself you can love two women and afford them both. As long as you still 'love' me."
She said the word love like it had a splinter in it.
Dominic seemed satisfied by her obedience. He reached over and ruffled her hair. "Good girl. Go set up a guest room for Lily."
Lily immediately softened her voice to something wispy and sweet. "Vivian, don't go to any trouble. I hope we can get along well."
Vivian nodded. She turned and went to make up the room, efficient and quiet, like a well-trained hostess.
At dinner, Dominic and Lily fed each other as if no one else was there. Vivian ate what was on her plate. It tasted like nothing.
That night, Dominic told her plainly: "Monday, Wednesday, Friday I'm with you. Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday I'm with Lily. Tonight is her night."
Vivian said, "Fine."
Chapter 3
The mansion was quiet that night. No screaming, no breaking glass. Just the dead stillness that meant she had nothing left to spend on tears.
She had run out in the other life, watching her parents die.
The next day, Dominic threw a gala to announce Lily's arrival. He all but declared to the whole city that he now had two wives.
The guests came in waves. So did the whispers.
Pity, contempt, schadenfreude. The looks landed on Vivian like needles. She barely felt them.
She just needed the paperwork to go through. Then she would disappear.
At the gala, Dominic announced he was signing over ten percent of his company's shares to Lily. Then he produced the Cross family heirloom, an antique diamond bracelet passed only to the matriarch of each generation. The one he had once clasped on Vivian's wrist and told her it represented everything he had and everything he felt.
Vivian watched the bracelet change hands.
She remembered the day he had put it on her. He had looked at her and said: "Vivian, I have everything. But the only thing I ever truly wanted was your love. Now that I have it, I feel like I have the world. Love me forever. All right?"
She had done that.
He hadn't.
A fine pain moved through her chest. She pushed it down and looked away.
Lily basked in the room's attention like a princess receiving tribute.
Then her gaze slid to Vivian, who had been silent all evening. Lily smiled sweetly. "Vivian, what did you get me for a gift?"
Vivian hadn't had time to think about it. "I'll make it up to you."
Lily wouldn't let it go. Her eyes traveled to the simple chain at Vivian's throat. "You don't have to wait. I love that necklace. Could you give it to me?"
Vivian's expression shifted. Her hand moved to the chain before she could stop it. "No."
It was the only thing her grandmother had left her.
Lily pouted. "Yesterday you said we'd be like sisters. You can't even give me a necklace? Don't you want me here, Vivian?"
Dominic appeared from across the room. He frowned. "What's going on?"
Lily's eyes immediately went glassy. She told him exactly what happened.
Dominic looked at Vivian. There was irritation in it. "You agreed yesterday to make this work. Already backing out?"
Then he reached out and yanked the necklace from Vivian's neck.
The chain cut into her skin as it broke. It left a red line.
He pressed the necklace into Lily's hand. "If you like it, take it."
Lily grabbed it with both hands, delighted. "Thank you! I'm going to go try it on!" She skipped up the stairs.
Vivian stood there, watching her grandmother's only belonging disappear into another woman's hands.
She counted to ten. Then she followed.
She just wanted to try to trade something else for it. Anything else.
She pushed open Lily's door. It was already ajar.
What she saw made her blood reverse.
Lily was crouching over a small dog, laughing, and looping the necklace around the dog's neck.
"What are you doing!" Vivian crossed the room in three steps. Her voice shook.
Lily startled, then smiled with her eyes. "Oh, you caught me. I thought the chain was too plain for me. Way better on a dog, right?"
Chapter 4
"Give it back." Vivian reached for it, barely holding herself together.
Lily dodged. She kept dodging, keeping it just out of reach.
Then Lily's foot slipped. She screamed. She fell backward through the open balcony door.
"Ah!"
The noise brought Dominic upstairs at a run. He was fast. He caught her just at the edge.
"Lily! What happened?" He held her, checking her over.
Vivian stepped onto the balcony. She started to speak.
Lily spoke first. She was already crying, pointing at Vivian. "Dominic. Don't blame Vivian. She was upset about the necklace, and she, she just accidentally pushed me a little..."
"I didn't push her." Vivian couldn't believe what she was hearing.
Dominic's eyes went cold. "I asked you to make this work. You agreed. Now this? It's just a necklace. I know it was your grandmother's. But it's an object. Lily wanted it. What's the problem? You really can't stand her being here?"
Vivian felt the shock of it like electricity through her chest.
He had known. He had known from the start it was her grandmother's. And he had ripped it off her throat anyway, for a woman he'd known for two days.
The wound ripped back open. She could barely breathe around it.
"I said. I didn't push her."
"Enough!" Dominic wasn't interested. "You did something wrong, and there are consequences. Go to the front entrance. Kneel. Shine the shoes of every guest who walks through. Until Lily tells me she's satisfied."
Vivian's head came up fast. "You can't humiliate me like this."
"You'd rather I ask your parents to go instead?"
The image of the other life detonated behind her eyes.
"No. Don't bring them into this. I'll go."
Her fingernails went into her palm.
For them. She could take anything.
She knelt at the entrance to the mansion in the glow of the outdoor lights, head down, and worked through every pair of shoes that passed. Guests looked at her with pity, contempt, curiosity. She felt none of it land.
She was keeping the tears locked in her throat.
When she finished shining a pair of sharp stilettos, the woman wearing them didn't move.
Vivian looked up.
The face looking down at her was full of malice and glee.
"Well. If it isn't the untouchable Mrs. Cross. How does it feel?"
Vivian recognized her immediately. Victoria Lang. Daughter of the Lang Corporation. A woman who had been obsessed with Dominic for years and had once slapped Vivian across the face when his back was turned.
Dominic had found out. He'd had someone break Victoria's hand. The Lang family had never recovered. After that, no one had dared touch Vivian.
Until now.
Vivian felt it coming before it happened.
Victoria lifted her foot and brought her stiletto heel down on the back of Vivian's hand.
The pain was blinding. Vivian cried out before she could stop herself.
Victoria laughed, pressing harder, grinding the heel across Vivian's fingers one by one, like she was trying to shatter every knuckle.
"Does that hurt? You walked around like you owned this city because he loved you. Look at you now. He doesn't want you anymore. You're nothing. Just a dog no one will take home."
The pain took over everything. Vivian's face went white. Cold sweat soaked through her back.
Through swimming vision, she looked up toward the second-floor terrace.
Dominic was standing there. A glass in his hand. Watching.
His brow furrowed slightly. His body shifted forward. He almost said something.
Then Lily pressed against his side, tipped her chin up, and murmured something in his ear.
He stopped.
He looked down at Lily. Then he put his arm around her waist. When he looked back down at the entrance, his eyes had already gone flat.
Vivian watched Lily's mouth curve in a smile that vanished almost before it appeared. She couldn't hear Dominic's exact words across the distance, but she could read them plainly.
"...don't worry about her... let her learn a lesson... she won't act out again..."
The last of anything in her chest gave out.
She couldn't hold herself up. The darkness took her.
"Sixty minutes, Elora." Maya, my wedding coordinator, tapped her silver pen against her clipboard. "Are you ready to become Mrs. Thorne?"
"I've been ready for two years," I said. My fingers brushed the delicate white buds of the baby's breath bouquet. I had specifically asked the florist to wrap them around a few hidden white roses, thorns intact.
"Your dress looks flawless," Maya added. She crouched down, adjusting the heavy silk train of my gown. "Where is your sister? She’s supposed to be helping you with the veil."
"Selene said she needed to fix her makeup."
"Well, find her. I need you both in the staging area in ten minutes."
"Did you confirm the string quartet?" I asked.
"Yes, they are setting up in the garden right now," Maya replied. "Are you absolutely sure about the vanilla frosting on the cake? Kael mentioned he preferred dark chocolate. He called me twice this morning about it."
"I compromised on the venue," I said. "He can compromise on the cake. Besides, vanilla is classic. It's what we agreed on months ago."
"Fair enough. Call Selene. She has the rings, and the photographer wants group shots in the conservatory before the guests arrive."
Maya hurried down the corridor. I pulled my phone from the small bridal clutch on the table and dialed my sister’s number.
It rang twice. Then went to voicemail.
I adjusted my grip on the floral arrangement and walked toward the bridal lounge. The thick carpet absorbed the sound of my steps. The hallway smelled of fresh lilies and expensive wax.
I reached for the brass handle of the lounge door. It sat slightly ajar. A sliver of golden light spilled onto the hallway floor.
A faint, muffled ringtone drifted through the gap. Selene’s phone.
Before I could push the door open, a voice followed the electronic melody.
"Your phone is ringing." Kael's voice was low, rougher than the gentle tone he used with me.
My hand froze in the air.
"Ignore it," Selene answered. A soft thud echoed off the walls. "It's probably just my sister freaking out over a misplaced napkin."
"You should answer it."
"Why? So I can listen to her whine about her perfect day? I'm busy."
"Selene..."
"Are you annoyed, Kael? Does it bother you that she's out there playing the blushing bride while you're in here looking at me like you want to devour me?"
"You talk too much."
"And you think too much. Look at me."
My stomach twisted. The hallway suddenly felt entirely devoid of oxygen. I pressed my fingertips against the cool wood of the door.
"You don't have to do this, Kael," Selene said, her tone shifting to a mocking whisper. "You can still run."
"Don't start, Sel."
"I'm just saying. Look at this wedding. It's a joke. She's so... predictable. A baby's breath bouquet? A pure white dress? She's vanilla, Kael. You hate vanilla."
"Shut up," he muttered.
"Make me."
A sharp scrape of wood against the floorboards followed.
"Are you going to pretend you don't want this?" Selene asked. "Even now? One hour before you sign your life away to a woman who schedules her intimacy on a calendar?"
"I'm marrying your sister."
"That's a fact, not a defense."
"Selene, stop."
"You're the one holding my hips, Kael. If you really wanted me to stop, you'd drop your hands."
"You drive me insane."
"I keep you alive. She bores you to death. Tell me I'm wrong."
I pushed the door inward. Just an inch.
"Tell me to leave," Selene whispered. "Say the word, and I'll walk out of this room. I'll go stand next to her at the altar and smile."
"You know I won't do that," Kael replied.
"Then prove it."
Through the narrow opening, the mirror above the vanity reflected the entire room. Kael had Selene pinned against the edge of the makeup table. His hands gripped her waist, his knuckles white against her dark purple bridesmaid dress.
"You're ruined," he growled.
He slammed his mouth down on hers.
Selene laughed against his lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Her fingers tangled in the dark hair I had lovingly trimmed just three days ago.
My gaze dropped to the floor.
My backup wedding dress—the reception gown I had hung so carefully on the wardrobe door—lay in a crumpled heap on the floorboards. Selene's silver stiletto dug directly into the pure white silk. She ground her heel into the delicate fabric as she kissed my fiancé.
"Kael," she moaned into his mouth.
"Quiet," he ordered. He kissed her harder, his hands moving up her sides. "Someone will hear."
"Let them."
I couldn't scream. My throat locked tight. Instead of a sob, a hollow, empty silence swallowed me whole. A bizarre sense of calm washed over my burning eyes.
I took a step backward.
*Crunch.*
My thin-soled shoe came down on something hard. A dropped champagne flute, abandoned in the hallway, shattered under my weight.
Jagged glass sliced through the satin fabric of my heel. The shards drove deep into my skin.
I didn't flinch. A high-pitched ringing erupted in my ears, drowning out the physical agony. The sound masked the sting in my foot. The world tilted, spinning on an axis of pure betrayal.
My fist closed tighter around my bouquet. The hidden rose thorns pierced through the floral tape. They dug into my palm, snapping under the sheer force of my grip.
Warm liquid pooled in the center of my hand.
"More," Selene begged from inside the room.
I squeezed the stems until the wood cracked. Blood slid down the lifelines of my palm. A single crimson drop fell.
It hit the pure white hallway carpet with a muted splash.
Then another.
And another.
The ringing in my head grew deafening. The scent of vanilla frosting from the kitchens below suddenly made me nauseous.
Inside the lounge, Kael suddenly tore his mouth away from Selene's. His head snapped toward the door.
"What was that?" he demanded. His chest heaved rapidly.
"Nothing," Selene pouted. She reached for his collar, trying to pull him back. "Just ignore it."
Kael shoved her backward. Her spine hit the vanity mirror with a loud crack.
"I said, what was that?"
He took a wide step toward the door. His dark eyes locked onto the narrow opening. He didn't see my face. I stood perfectly still, hidden in the shadows of the corridor.
But Kael's gaze didn't search for a face. His eyes tracked downward.
They fixed instantly on the bright, fresh droplets of blood staining the white carpet just outside the threshold.
looking for free link if possible
"She's back. Let's get a divorce on Monday. Name a price." Her husband suddenly asked for a divorce, but she didn't argue or make a scene. She chose to go along with it and took his money, car, and house. The man was glad to get rid of such a greedy woman in time, but he didn't expect that she was the one who controlled their wealth!
=====
"We'll divorce on Monday. Aside from the compensation in the agreement, you may request anything else you need."
Kristian Shaw, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, exuded an air of cold detachment. His voice firm and emotionless.
His piercing gaze settled on the silent woman opposite him, his eyes inscrutable.
"Why so sudden?" Freya Briggs asked, her voice quieter than usual.
Kristian's answer was blunt. "Ashley is back."
Freya knew exactly who Ashley was. After a brief pause, she replied, "Okay."
Kristian hesitated, caught off guard by her immediate acceptance.
Freya opened the divorce papers, her thoughts drifting to the past.
Two years ago, they had met at a n**htclub. She had been weighed down by worries; he had been nursing a broken heart.
A few drinks later, they found solace in each other's company, talking late into the night.
There had been no impulsive o*e-n**ht st*nd--just a quiet parting afterward.
Three days later, he had returned with his assistant to propose marriage. And she had agreed.
After getting married, he had treated her well--tending to her needs, drying her hair with gentle hands, and solving her problems before she even voiced them.
Their relationship had been perfect--until six months ago, when a single phone call changed everything.
Overnight, he grew distant, his warmth replaced by icy indifference.
That was when she learned the truth: Kristian had married her because she bore a faint resemblance to his lost love, Ashley Bradley.
The memory made Freya press her lips together before she asked lightly, "You said I could ask for compensation, right?"
"Yes," Kristian replied flatly.
"Anything I want?" She lifted her gaze to him, her delicate face devoid of its usual brightness.
For a fleeting moment, guilt flickered in his ch*st. "Yes."
He had already resolved to grant her reasonable demands.
After all, she had been good to him all the time.
Freya's voice was steady. "Then I want the most expensive car in your garage."
"Fine," Kristian agreed.
"A villa in the suburbs," she added.
"Done," he said.
Freya smiled. "And a share of the money you've earned in the last two years."
For the first time, Kristian's composure cracked. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if questioning whether he'd heard correctly. "What did you say?"
Freya, unfazed, repeated her demand.
"Our earnings during the marriage count as marital property, don't they? Based on my calculations--excluding investments--your salary and dividends over the last two years amount to several billion. I don't want much--just 40%."
A heavy silence settled between them.
Then, she added, as if casually mentioning the weather, "Of course, you're welcome to take 40% of my income too."
Kristian's patience finally snapped. "Freya!" His voice carried an edge of disbelief.
Had he really felt guilty earlier? How had he never noticed her greed?
Freya met his gaze evenly. "Is that not acceptable?"
Absolutely not.
Kristian dismissed the idea instantly.
"Then forget it." Freya set down her pen. "Next time I see your family, I'll bring up your emotional infidelity. I'm sure they'll take my side."
Kristian's expression darkened, his stare turning glacial. He hadn't anticipated this side of her--realizing now that her past docility had been an act.
"Do you really want to negotiate with me like this?" he demanded.
"Yes." Freya held his gaze without flinching. She knew he despised threats--but she despised infidelity more.
"Fine." Kristian's eyes turned stormy, his voice glacial. "You'll get what you want. But if the divorce hits complications, you'll regret it."
Freya leaned back in her chair, her tone razor-sharp. "Kristian Shaw, is that a threat?"
This version of her was foreign to Kristian. For two years, she'd been the picture of compliance--gentle, accommodating, never defiant. Now, she met his anger with unshakable calm.
"No." Already calculating countermeasures, he bit out, "You'll have the assets. We divorce on Monday."
Freya's lashes lowered briefly before she added, "One more condition."
"Speak." His patience frayed.
"Take me shopping tomorrow." She ignored the frost radiating from him. "Afterward, we'll tell your family together that I ended things."
"Deal," Kristian conceded.
With that, he strode toward the door, unable to stomach another second in her presence.
Earlier, he'd even considered granting her a grace period to process the divorce.
How laughable. She couldn't wait to carve up his fortune and be rid of him.
Had Freya been able to read his thoughts, she might have laughed and said, "That little money? Do you really think I care?"
Kristian reached the door and halted. Without turning around, he said, "I won't be back tonight. I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning. Make a list of the stores you want to visit."
Freya's voice followed him, calm but laced with something sharp. "Are you going to see Ashley Bradley?"
Kristian's jaw tightened. "That's none of your business."
Freya let out a quiet breath, as if she had already expected that answer. "I don't tolerate cheating," she said plainly. "So before the divorce is finalized, you'd better not end up in b*d with her."
Kristian whirled back, looming over her.
Freya didn't blink. "What? Can't endure two more days?"
"I understand your bitterness," he said, eerily composed, "but lashing out won't help. This is a divorce, not war."
Freya blinked at him. For a moment, she was at a loss for words. This man was truly shameless.
Kristian didn't wait for a response. "Good night." And with that, he turned and left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Freya's gaze drifted down to the divorce papers still lying on the table. She stood there for a long time, unmoving.
To say she felt nothing would have been a lie. She wasn't made of stone.
The moment she discovered she was nothing more than a stand-in, the hurt had settled deep in her bones.
Kristian had been her first love. In twenty-four years, no one else had breached her defenses.
Before the betrayal, he'd been perfection itself--attentive, steady, silencing every doubt with his quiet devotion.
So when she learned of Ashley, she'd offered to leave. To free him. But he'd refused.
Chapter 2 Kristian Was Pure S**mbag
The reason behind Kristian's refusal was simple. Before Ashley returned, he needed someone to manage his elders at home--and Freya, adored by his parents and grandpa, was the obvious choice.
But sometimes, Freya couldn't help but wonder--did he really think she was a f*ol? Otherwise, why would he assume she'd play along in hiding his a**air?
Now, with his sudden demand for divorce, frustration simmered inside her.
Even after six months of steeling herself, a stubborn flicker of emotion remained.
She let out a slow breath, crossed to the sofa, and grabbed her phone.
She tapped the contact labeled "Fred"--untouched for two years--and typed, "Check if Shaw Group's facing any issues. And find out if Kristian's terminally ill."
Fred's replies exploded onto the screen instantly.
"Holy--Freya?!"
"Never thought I'd hear from you again!"
"Two years, Freya. TWO."
"Where've you been?!"
She didn't bother explaining.
Mood sour, she fired back a single word, "Check."
Fred caved. "On it!"
She tossed the phone aside and waited.
If Kristian was divorcing her to spare her some tragedy, she'd forgive him--maybe even help.
But if he was just an unfaithful j**k? She'd drop him without a second thought.
Thirty minutes later, her phone buzzed with Fred's verdict.
"Zero troubles. No illness, no crisis. Why the h*ll are you asking? Kristian's loaded, hot, and sharp--you two are a match. Don't you like pretty boys? Give it a shot!"
She ignored the jab and shot back, "You are so blind."
Then she silenced her phone.
No external factors meant only one thing--Kristian was pure s*um.
Fred stared at his screen, baffled. Did Freya wake up in a mood today?
Freya's gaze landed on the divorce papers. After a pause, she snatched a pen, scrawled her name, and shoved them into a drawer. Then she headed for the shower.
When she emerged, her phone was a disaster--dozens of unread messages and 32 missed calls.
No guessing needed. Frederick Price--aka Fred--had clearly blabbed about her resurrection to the entire world.
Towel draped over her damp hair, she reached for her phone--only for it to ring again.
The caller ID flashed; it was her father.
Her ch*st tightened. Two years of silence, and now he called?
She'd left Alerith City due to a situation involving her mother, and neither had she reached out to her father nor had he contacted her--until now.
After a pause, she answered coolly. "Hello."
Silence.
Freya, never one for patience, was about to hang up when Hugh Briggs' raspy voice cut through. "Mina."
That name clawed at buried memories.
"What do you want?" she asked flatly.
Hugh hesitated, guilt threading his words. "Frederick told me you reached out. Said you were digging into Kristian. Need help?"
"No." Freya had no interest in his involvement.
A beat passed before Hugh ventured, "What's your relationship with him?"
"A couple." She let the word hang. "About to divorce."
Hugh's
breath hitched. She was married?
"You--" he started.
"If that's all, I'm done." Freya didn't want to waste any more breath on him.
"Wait!" he rushed.
She held her tongue.
The line crackled with tension.
Finally, he muttered, "When are you coming back? That woman's gone."
Then, hastily, he added, "Your mom's belongings are untouched."
Her fingers tightened around the phone. For a flicker, emotion crossed her face--then vanished. "Noted."
She hung up before he could protest.
Hugh stared at the dead line, frustration curdling in his ch*st. He hadn't even asked about her marriage.
Freya didn't spare him another thought. She flicked her phone to airplane mode, towel-dried her hair, and collapsed into b*d.
The night passed without dreams.
By eight the next morning, she was up--dressed and breakfasted.
Today, she'd taken care with her makeup. Her skin glowed; her lips, naturally full, needed no enhancement. But her eyes--sharp, luminous--were the real weapon.
Her smile was bright, bringing a warmth that could instantly lift anyone's spirits.
When Kristian arrived, she was already waiting on the sofa. Her shoulder-length hair was pinned back, bangs swept up under a black beret.
At the sight of him, she rose gracefully, reaching for a coat and draping it over her shoulder.
"Let's go." She grabbed her purse, her tone composed and unbothered.
Kristian didn't move. His tailored suit emphasized his height as he said, "Not today."
Freya stilled.
"I have other commitments." His voice was indifferent. His gaze lingered--too long--on her face. "Tomorrow."
"Kristian Shaw." Her tone was a warning.
He disliked it instantly.
"I put on makeup today," she said, her voice deceptively calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.
"If you want our divorce to go smoothly on Monday, push aside whatever plans you have. I don't deal with people who break their promises."
Kristian's eyes narrowed.
After a silent calculation, he stepped out to make a call. Fragments floated back--Ashley... hospital... follow-up.
Freya's grip on her purse turned white-knuckled. Inside, she seethed. Even now, Ashley occupied his thoughts completely.
Kristian missed Freya's fury. All he saw was how she shone today--vibrant, untamed. Nothing like the subdued woman he knew.
After hanging up, he inquired where she wanted to shop. Freya mentioned the largest luxury mall in town.
This wasn't shopping. This was a spree. By 10 AM, the four bodyguards trailed behind her like pack mules--arms stacked with watches, jewels, designer bags.
Kristian's phone chimed nonstop with alerts.
As Freya strode into yet another jewelry boutique, his jaw hardened. This wasn't retail therapy; she was intentionally trying to irritate him.
Chapter 3 Why Hurt Ashley?
Gerard Todd, Kristian's ever-dutiful assistant, hesitated for a moment before asking, "Sir, should I go ahead and book a restaurant?"
Kristian massaged his temples, irritation flashing across his face. "No need."
He knew Freya was venting her frustration. If splurging eased her temper, so be it--he'd let her spend freely.
The moment the words left his mouth, his phone vibrated. Another alert flashed--over thirty million had just vanished from his account.
Gerard averted his eyes, while the four bodyguards stood stiffly, arms laden with shopping bags like silent, overburdened mules.
Freya strode out of the jewelry boutique and casually handed her latest purchase to Gerard, whose hands were conspicuously empty.
Just as she turned to continue her spree, Kristian's phone rang.
His posture shifted instantly. The tension in his shoulders eased, his frown softening as he glanced at the caller ID.
Long fingers cradled the phone, his voice uncharacteristically tender as he answered. "Hello, Ashley."
Gerard and the bodyguards exchanged startled glances. Had their boss forgotten Freya was standing right there?
"Ashley was in a car accident on her way to a hospital follow-up. She's unconscious--still in surgery," the voice on the line blurted, frantic.
"Please come. She kept calling your name before they took her in."
"Send the address. I'm on my way." Kristian's ch*st constricted, the words sharp with urgency.
He ended the call, his gaze flickering to Freya.
An explanation hovered on his lips, but he swallowed it. Instead, he turned to Gerard and the bodyguards.
"Stay with her. Buy whatever she wants. If it doesn't fit in the car, have it delivered by this afternoon."
"Yes, sir," the five men chorused.
Without another word, Kristian strode off, leaving Freya and the others in his wake.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the group.
Gerard adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, forcing a polished smile. "Mrs. Shaw, don't worry. Mr. Shaw will return once he handles matters."
"What a loyal employee," Freya murmured, her tone laced with something unreadable.
Gerard blinked, thrown by her response.
Freya studied the mall's glittering chandeliers, her voice deliberate.
"Being his assistant is one thing. But cleaning up his messes? Tell me, Gerard--have you ever seen a man ditch his wife mid-date to run to his mi**ress?"
The bodyguards stiffened; Gerard's smile froze.
For a heartbeat, all five men stared at her with something dangerously close to pity.
This might be the price of marrying into wealth--knowing her husband had left her for another woman while she was expected to swallow the insult.
"Save the sympathy." Freya scoffed, amused by their expressions. She gestured to the bags weighing them down.
"A single one of those could cover your salary for a year. Maybe ten."
The blow landed perfectly.
She pressed, "Well, anything you'd like?"
Five pairs of eyes widened in unison.
Freya's mind worked in ways they couldn't follow.
"Since he's off playing hero for his darling, let's put his money to better use." She twirled the black card between her fingers, her voice quieter now.
The sting surprised her. She hadn't realized Kristian's departure would still claw at her.
Right now, all she wanted was to drain his account dry.
Gerard and the bodyguards gaped.
Delighted by their shock, Freya resumed shopping, the card clutched like a weapon.
She assumed Kristian would linger at the hospital all day. But as she sat down to eat, he appeared like a storm, his presence slicing through the restaurant's warmth.
Before anyone could react, he seized Freya's wrist and hauled her toward the parking area, his grip ironclad.
Her back slammed against the car door, pain radiating through her. She winced. What the hell was his problem?
His accusation came like a whip crack, "Why hurt Ashley?"
Kristian trembled with suppressed rage.
"You hired that hit-and-run driver, didn't you? I gave you everything you wanted, the house, the car, the money. What more do you want? Why did you still hurt her?"
He looked like vengeance personified, his eyes glacial.
"When did I--" Freya's confusion was genuine.
"Still lying?" His voice could've frosted glass.
"You planned this. Picked today so I'd be distracted while your hired man ran her down. You know I'd die before letting her suffer."
His voice was Arctic frost, the kind that seeped into bones and made spines stiffen.
Freya's initial fury dissolved into something colder, sharper. His absurd accusation had an ironic effect--it drained her rage, leaving only icy clarity.
She met his gaze, lips curling in derision. "How poetic. Turning betrayal into some grand romance."
"Freya Briggs!" Kristian's control frayed, his shout raw with warning.
"You're delusional." She didn't flinch, status be damned. "Think. Why would I trash my fresh start--my freedom--over someone like her?"
"You know exactly why." His voice dropped lower, a bl**e pressed to her throat.
A realization flickered. "Ah. You think I'm still obsessed with you?"
Kristian said nothing, but his clenched jaw and the fire in his eyes were answer enough.
"Why should I still want you?" Freya laughed, the sound brittle. "After being treated as a stand-in? After your infidelity? After watching you fawn over another woman?"
The words landed like sl*ps.
Kristian stiffened. "I didn't cheat," he ground out.
"You handed her your heart while wearing my ring." Her smile was lethal. "That's cheating."
"Enough deflection," he snapped.
"You're the one hallucinating conspiracies!"
Silence. Kristian studied her, as if peeling back layers for the first time. The weight of his scrutiny was suffocating.
Freya refused to wilt. "So she claimed I hired a man to k*ll her, and you just... believed her?"
"Yes." His anger faltered under her unwavering stare, but the frost remained. "Ashley didn't lie. And she has proof."
Freya's brows arched.
Her fingers dug into her bag strap, knuckles whitening. "Perfect. Let's go to the hospital. Right now."
Kristian blinked. Her immediate agreement threw him.
Guilty people didn't invite confrontation.
Doubt slithered in. Was the evidence fabricated?
"Move." Her command shattered his thoughts.
He released her wrist, disconcerted by her detachment. Something ugly twisted in his ch*st--annoyance? Guilt?
Before he could name it, he yanked out his keys and wrenched the car door open.
Chapter 4 Are You Threatening Me?
Gerard stepped forward swiftly to take the keys, assuming the role of driver without hesitation.
Freya yanked the passenger door open and slid inside, her gaze fixed straight ahead--ignoring Kristian entirely.
A knot of dread tightened in Gerard's ch*st. What if Freya said something outrageous? The thought made his fingers clench around the wheel.
After a weighted pause, he ventured, "Mrs. Shaw, you--"
"Drive." Her reply was a bl**e, sharp and final.
Gerard flicked a glance at the rearview mirror. Kristian's expression gave nothing away. Swallowing hard, he pulled out of the parking area.
Silence smothered the car like a thick fog.
The tension was unbearable. Gerard's shoulders tensed, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.
Neither Kristian nor Freya spoke. Both radiated a frost so deep it could've cracked the windows.
Gerard knew Kristian's moods well--but Freya? She'd been almost cheerful earlier. What the hell happened?
He bit back a sigh. Questions wouldn't help now.
In the back seat, Kristian's gaze drifted unbidden to Freya's profile. Something unfamiliar twisted in his ch*st--an emotion he refused to name.
Thirty minutes later, the car halted at the hospital entrance.
Kristian seized Freya's wrist, dragging her toward the VIP ward. His grip was iron, unyielding.
She winced, her voice dripping with mockery. "At this rate, I won't be the one charged--you'll be arrested for assault first."
He dropped her arm like it burned him. Angry red marks circled her skin.
Freya shot him a look so scathing it could've melted steel.
Guilt flickered in Kristian's ch*st--brief, unwelcome. It vanished the moment Ashley's bruised face flashed in his mind.
"Follow me," he muttered, turning on his heel. He didn't wait to see if Freya obeyed.
The door swung open. Ashley lay propped up in b*d, her face lighting up at the sight of Kristian. "Kristian," she breathed, voice sweet with devotion.
He was at her side in an instant, fingers brushing hers in silent reassurance.
Freya strode in, took one look at them, and smirked. "Should I leave? Give you two some privacy?"
"Freya. Enough." Kristian's voice was winter itself. He didn't look at Freya, his hand still resting on Ashley's back. "You're here to apologize."
Freya closed the distance to the b*d, studying Ashley properly for the first time--soft features, delicate frame, eyes wide with practiced innocence.
Ah. Now she understood. This was the woman Kristian loved.
"Miss Bradley." Freya laced her fingers together.
"My darling tells me you've accused me of hiring your attacker--with evidence." She stressed the word, gaze locked on Kristian. "Care to share?"
"Kristian..." Ashley's fingers tightened around his, her lower lip trembling...
Please help me find it.