Chapter 20

Brandon's POV 

The hum of conversation and the steady click of keyboards filled the office, but my mind was only half on the quarterly reports in front of me. The other half was still back home—with Freya, at 5 a.m., sitting in my kitchen with a fork in her hand and a sleepy smile on her lips.

“Hey,” Kyle’s voice pulled me back to the present. He leaned casually against the doorframe of my office, a tablet in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. “Everything alright?”

I nodded, pushing the papers aside. “Yeah. Just… long night. Or morning, I guess.”

Kyle stepped inside, setting the coffee down on my desk. “Then you’ll need this. And before you say anything, yes, it’s the roast you like.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” I muttered, taking a sip. “Speaking of which—thanks again for upgrading the security system. That thing came through last minute, two days ago.”

Kyle’s brow lifted. “You had a breach?”

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a humorless chuckle. “More like a drama-fueled ambush. Rachelle showed up at the gate unannounced, demanding to be let in.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was. Security called Freya to ask if they should let her in, but before she could respond, Lucy her friend hit the buzzer and told them to open the gate.”

Kyle snorted. “Classic, this Lucy seems crazy.”

“Yeah. Turns out she wanted to confront Rachelle herself, probably to protect Freya. And, well… let’s just say things got physical.”

Kyle blinked. “Wait—Lucy threw hands?”

“Oh, she didn’t hesitate. Dropped Rachelle before the woman could even get out her usual insults.”

Kyle let out a low whistle. “Damn. Wish I’d seen that.”

I shook my head, half smiling. “You and me both. Security had to pull them apart, and then Freya ended up playing referee. It was a circus.”

“Still glad we got those cameras installed,” Kyle said. “Could come in handy if Rachelle tries to press charges.”

“She won’t. She was the one trespassing,” I replied, my tone hardening. “If anything, we should be filing something.”

Kyle gave a single nod, sensing the shift in my mood. “She’s not going to stop, is she?”

“No,” I said simply. “But she’ll learn that there are consequences. Especially if she keeps dragging Freya into her mess.”

Before Kyle could respond, the notification for the elevator dinged. I grabbed my phone and files, nodding for him to follow me to the next meeting.

The two of us stepped into the glass-paneled elevator, the city skyline stretching wide below us as we descended. And then the doors slid open on the next floor—and in walked Bryan.

My mood immediately soured.

He gave Kyle a short nod before turning his attention to me. The smirk on his face was almost too casual, like we were old friends sharing a joke.

“Brandon,” he said, his tone too cool to be friendly. “Didn’t expect to run into you this morning.”

I didn’t smile. “Can’t say I’m thrilled either.”

His eyes flicked to Kyle, then back to me. “You might want to talk to your wife,” he said, voice lowering just enough to piss me off. “Tell her to keep herself—and her friend—in check. Assaulting Rachelle isn’t going to end well for anyone.”

I felt the heat rise in my chest, slow and steady. “Excuse me?”

Bryan leaned back slightly, smug. “Look, I’m not saying Rachelle’s perfect. But Freya and Lucy physically attacking her? You really think that’s acceptable behavior?”

I stepped forward, not caring how small the space in the elevator suddenly felt. “You’re seriously standing here, defending Rachelle? After she showed up at my house uninvited? After she came to start something?”

Kyle, ever the diplomat, spoke before I could say more. “Legally speaking, Rachelle was trespassing. Security was notified, and we’ve got the logs and footage to prove it. If anything, she’s lucky we didn’t press charges.”

Bryan’s  jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.

“Your wife,” I said sharply, “walked onto private property, started screaming like a lunatic, and ended up getting handled by someone who was protecting Freya. And you—you—have the audacity to suggest that my wife is the problem?”

Bryan scoffed. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? You think I can’t see through this whole show? You marry Freya, Rachelle shows up once, and suddenly there’s a fight. It’s convenient.”

My fists clenched at my sides. “No. What’s convenient is how quick you are to point fingers at the women, when it’s your inability to set boundaries that’s caused half this chaos.”

Bryan’s  eyes narrowed. “You think you’re some kind of saint? You think marrying her fixed anything?”

“I didn’t marry her to fix anything,” I said quietly, dangerously. “I married her because I wanted to. Because she’s kind, strong, and ten times the person Rachelle could ever hope to be considering I have always never liked that....thing.”

The silence in the elevator was thick now.

Kyle cleared his throat. “Brandon—”

But I didn’t stop. My eyes were locked on Bryan, and I wasn’t letting up.

“You want to come at me? Fine. But don’t you ever, ever, speak about Freya like that again. You don’t get to question her character. Not after what she’s been through. Not after the mess your wife tried to drag her into.”

Bryan opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand.

“Don’t,” I warned. “Just don’t.”

The elevator dinged again, and the doors opened. I stepped out first, Kyle at my side, my shoulders tight with rage.

Behind us, Bryan didn’t follow.

“Think he’ll try anything?” Kyle asked quietly as we walked down the corridor.

“If he does,” I said, my voice cold, “he’ll regret it.”

We entered the meeting room, but the conversation with Bryan still echoed in the back of my mind. His nerve. His complete refusal to acknowledge the damage Rachelle was doing—or the fact that Freya had done nothing but defend herself in the aftermath.

It wasn’t just irritating. It was infuriating.

What Bryan didn’t understand—what I doubted he ever would—was that Freya wasn’t someone I needed to keep “in place.” She didn’t need controlling. She wasn’t some liability to manage. She was a woman who had been shoved into a spotlight she never asked for, dragged into drama she never caused, and still somehow carried herself with grace.

And I’d be damned if I let anyone—Bryan, Rachelle, or anyone else—make her feel otherwise.

After the meeting, I shot her a quick message.

Me: Everything okay back home?

Her reply came in moments later.

Freya: All good. Lucy brought cupcakes. We’re stress-eating. Want one later?

I stared at her message and felt the tension in my chest begin to ease.

Me: Only if you save me two. One for surviving Bryan. One for defending you more than I should.

Freya: You’re getting three now.

I smiled, pocketing my phone.

Let them come. Let the drama keep spinning if it had to. As long as she was in my corner—and I in hers—none of it could touch us.

And anyone who tried?

Well, they would  learn soon enough just how far I was willing to go to protect the woman I loved.