The atmosphere after Imelda's departure was now tense. And Freya seemed to have lost her smile. She sat in a corner, cradling a glass of champagne in her hands but not taking a single sip. The P.A she had recently hired, by the name Kira, approached her, wondering why she was staring blankly into space when she should be getting ready for the night.“Freya!” she called out, a mix of surprise and confusion etched on her face. “What's the matter?”Freya snapped out of her thoughts, her expression turning professional. She looked up at her P.A, forcing a faint smile.“Just wanted to have a drink. Let's go,” Freya said calmly, rising to her feet.Just before she could take a step, she caught a glimpse of someone at the entrance and halted abruptly.Desmond had just arrived.Freya didn't flinch or react, she simply stared Desmond down, her piercing tawny eyes boring into his soul.As Desmond walked in, flanked by his bodyguards, his domineering presence commanded the room and attracted at
Freya's gaze softened, and her heart fluttered in her chest as happiness warmed her entire being. He made it eventually—Diego honored her invitation. Even if he didn't show up at her event, she wouldn't hold it against him. He had every right to be mad at her. Yet, he showed up and her pleasure showed outwardly in a soft, subtle smile. Diego didn't mirror her smile, his expression still neutral. However, there was a hint of warmth in his eyes that Freya didn't miss. He didn't take his eyes off her, his gaze unwavering as if he were under a spell.Just in time, Desmond’s disdainful voice broke Freya out of her reverie. “Look what we have here. I see Diego decided to grace us with his presence. Bold of him, considering the circumstances.”Freya’s eyes suddenly darted to Desmond, a hateful intensity in their depths. Her expression switched from soft to cold in an instant. Her pulse quickened, but she tried to maintain her composure. “He was invited,” she replied icily. “He’s a valued s
The main event began and Freya mounted the podium, a wide smile plastered on her face. The soft murmur of the crowd faded as the spotlight centered on her. She stood tall, her posture exuding confidence, yet her expression carried a quiet intensity. She adjusted the microphone, glancing briefly at the audience, where dozens of faces waited expectantly.Diego sat with Noah at the table in the front row which Freya had reserved specially for them. Freya's driver had brought Noah to the event quite late, but just in time for her speech.Noah was very happy to see Diego once again. He was more glad to know he was still in touch with his mom—being at the event proved that.They had a little father-and-son bonding time before Freya mounted the stage. Diego was especially grateful he was given a chance to see Noah again. He couldn't contain his happiness, which was evident in his wide grin.However, Desmond was seated away from the front row—Freya had arranged it that way. She had reserved t
The event had finally begun to wind down, the last notes of music fading away as the guests began to disperse. Freya felt the weight of the evening pressing on her shoulders, evident in her tired eyes and robotic movements. Smiling and thanking the guests had taken its toll, and she needed a moment to herself. Quietly excusing herself from Noah and a few other guests, she slipped away from the main room, heading toward the restroom at the far end of the hallway.Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor, the sounds of the celebration fading behind her. She let out a slow breath, grateful for the brief relief.But just as she turned a corner, she stopped dead in her tracks, stunned.Diego was walking toward her, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, his steps unhurried. The soft lighting of the hallway highlighted the familiar features of his face—his sharp jawline, the kind warmth in his eyes, and the faint trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.Freya fr
10:30 PM The event had come to an end, and guests were trickling out in large numbers, leaving the venue abuzz with faint remnants of laughter and conversation.Desmond stood near the entrance, scanning the thinning crowd for Freya and Noah. His jaw tightened, a knot of unease forming in his chest as neither of them appeared. He had been searching for the two of them ever since the event drew to a close but to no avail.“Where are they?” he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting across the room. Freya’s sudden disappearance felt deliberate, a silent defiance that only added fuel to the growing fire of his rage.How could she leave her own event like that without supervising its conclusion? And how dare she not tell him where she was going?He moved purposefully through the venue, his commanding presence making the staff glance nervously his way. Each one he passed offered polite nods and smiles, but none dared to stop him as he searched every corner. The restrooms, the bar, the
Freya's driver brought the car to a stop in front of Desmond’s mansion. The towering estate stood firm, silhouetted against the deep orange evening sky, staring back at Freya through the car window.She exhaled slowly, glancing at Noah, who sat stiffly beside her, his wide eyes glued to the mansion and his lips pressed into a thin line. The tension between them was palpable.Though she had grown used to Desmond's outbursts, the thought of his reaction to their 24-hour disappearance unsettled her."You ready?" she asked softly, though she already knew the answer.Noah nodded, his movements jerky and uncertain. "Will Daddy Desmond be...mad?" he whispered.Freya forced a reassuring smile. "I don’t know, sweetheart," she admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. "But whatever happens, stay close to me, okay?""Okay," Noah murmured, his voice barely audible.She reached over and squeezed his hand, drawing strength from the bond they shared. Then, steeling herself, she opened the
The dining room was cloaked in a heavy, tense silence. The soft clink of utensils on porcelain and the occasional scrape of a chair were the only sounds that punctuated the stillness. The chandelier above cast a warm, golden glow over the long mahogany table where Freya, Desmond and Noah sat together for dinner.Freya sat across from Desmond, her fingers lightly gripping her fork. She barely touched the food on her plate. Her gaze was fixed on him—unblinking, sharp and searching. He was eating methodically, cutting his steak with precision, his movements calm and deliberate.For days now, Desmond had been silent, almost as if he was avoiding her. It was strange and it bothered Freya so much. What was going through his head?He had changed—or at least, he wanted her to believe he had. Ever since she came back, he had stuck to his promise of becoming a changed man—it was unbelievable.His usual sharp remarks, the arrogant air, and the veiled threats had all disappeared. He had taken on
Desmond sat on the edge of the sleek couch, his eyes fixed on the television as a business update ran across the screen. The quiet hum of the television filled the living room, but his mind was consumed with other thoughts.Freya sat on a couch across from him, focused on her phone. They were supposedly watching the news together, as husband and wife. But neither of them paid attention to what was being displayed on the screen. They didn't even talk to each other.Desmond's mind swirled with the usual concerns—his business empire, his uneventful life, and of course, Freya's defiance towards him. He glanced at Freya, absently scrolling through her phone, completely absorbed in whatever she was reading. Her posture was casual and collected, her expression neutral.The room was silent except for the murmurs of the news anchor’s voice.Then suddenly, Desmond's phone buzzed on the coffee table, breaking his thoughts. His fingers twitched, an instinctive response to the interruption, and he
Diego stopped a few feet away, tilting his head. A sly smile was plastered on his face, and he locked hands with Freya, who mirrored his smile."Well, well," he mused, his voice laced with satisfaction. "What do we have here?”In unison, Freya and Diego laughed, deliberately jeering at Desmond. Diego shook his head, reveling in Desmond's misery.“We finally meet again. After a long while”, he went on, his grip on Freya's hand tightening possessively. “But this time, I'm the one laughing and you…whatever this is.” He shoved his hands in the air, making mocking gestures at Desmond, while staring at him in a condescending manner. Desmond's face was contorted with rage, but he said nothing.“I have to say, Desmond—I never thought I’d see the day," Diego added.Desmond’s fists clenched, his eyes blazing with hatred and rage. He couldn't take the insults anymore. Enough was enough. "You son of a…""Careful," Diego cut in smoothly, a vicious glint in his eyes. "You're not exactly in a posit
Desmond went still. He stared down the barrel of the gun, his breath coming hard and fast. The metallic scent of the warehouse mixed with the faint oiliness of the weapon, the cold steel mere inches from his forehead.Freya's eyes pierced deep into his soul, her hand steady, unwavering. Her expression was sterner than before, her jaw stiff with determination. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in her stance, not a flicker of doubt in her eyes. She didn't seem angry. She was unnervingly calm, and that was what unsettled Desmond.For the first time since this confrontation began, he felt something creeping into his chest, something foreign—fear.She meant it. This wasn't a bluff.Freya raised a brow slightly, her voice smooth, almost bored as she spoke.“Why don't you spare your life and sign these?” she mused, nodding towards the divorce papers beside him. “Losing your life while I still get the separation I need to move on is gonna be a win-win for me.”Desmond swallowed hard, his Ada
A dull persistent throb pulsed behind Desmond's eyes as he stirred from unconsciousness. His body felt heavy, weighted down by something tight and unyielding. There was a pressure against his wrists, his shoulders aching from an unnatural position.The first thing he noticed was the cold. It seeped into his skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of unconsciousness. He inhaled sharply, only to be met with the pungent smell of damp concrete, rusted metal, and oil lingering thick in the air.A faint dripping sound echoed somewhere in the distance, rhythmic and taunting. His senses sharpened, but his mind was sluggish, still clawing its way out of the haze.With effort, Desmond's eyelids fluttered open, his gaze unfocused at first. The dim light hanging overhead burned his retina, making him squint.The world was blurred at first, shifting between shadow and light. After a few seconds, he began to get a clearer picture of his surroundings.The space around him stretched wide and empty, the
Desmond looked away, inwardly battling with indecision—whether to believe her or not. He took a deep breath, his mind racing.On the other hand, Freya watched him closely, her gaze unwavering. His tired eyes spoke volumes about his intoxicated state. He was getting tipsier than before. And it was time to act.Freya tilted her head, her lips curving into a soft, understanding smile. “I know you're overwhelmed and can't seem to believe me. And that's understandable. I've practically ruined your life,” Freya said softly, her eyes locked onto his. She paused briefly, allowing her words to sink in. Then she let out a deep sigh and went on. “But people change, Desmond. You claimed you were a changed man, right? So why can't I claim I'm a changed woman as well?” Her voice was low and soft, but a hint of sarcasm was hidden in it.Desmond stared hard at her, reflecting on her words. His expression was a softer version of the skeptical mask he wore. And Freya smiled inwardly, realizing he was
9:32 PMThe hum of the engine was the only sound breaking the silence inside Freya’s car. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white as she stared through the windshield. Outside, the city lights shimmered, coupled with the lights coming from the inside of Desmond's office building, casting a pale glow over the darkened streets. The building loomed tall and ominous in Freya's rearview mirror, its shadow stretching across the pavement like a veil.Freya’s heart hammered against her chest as she adjusted her rearview mirror to get a better view of Desmond's movements. She had been waiting patiently for him to retire home, watching him closely in order to decide her next course of action.Just then, she saw him exit the building, his silhouette sharp under the yellow glow of the streetlights. He walked with the same arrogance she despised so much, his leather shoes clicking against the pavement. He was on the phone, his voice muffled but animated, likely barking or
“Evening, husband.”Freya's voice was thick with sarcasm, and her lips curved into a smirk. Without giving Desmond a chance to speak, she stepped into the room, her gaze sweeping over the mess he had made.The acrid stench of whiskey flooded her senses, making her grimace in disgust. She turned away, scrunching up her nose to fight the nausea it triggered. “What's that smell?” she mumbled, her face contorted with displeasure.Desmond fixed her with a deadly stare, his eyes blazing with unrestrained rage. “Why are you here?” he spat, leaning forward.Freya stared hard at the shattered pieces of glass, infused into the nasty pool of golden liquid on the floor. Her brows furrowed in a frown, and she shook her head in pity."Really, Desmond?" she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Breaking bottles and shouting at doors? How…predictable."Desmond’s eyes darkened, his rage momentarily stunned into silence by the audacity of her presence. He watched as she walked further into the
Desmond sat alone in his dimly lit study, the amber glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across the mahogany furniture. The air reeked of whiskey and regret. His hand trembled as he brought the glass to his lips, but the drink did little to dull the bitter thoughts swirling in his mind. He leaned back in the leather armchair, his eyes drifting shut. Freya. Her name alone sent a wave of anger coursing through his veins. His jaw tightened as he replayed the events of the past months in his mind. It was certain that Freya’s schemes had been meticulously calculated and set into motion long before she returned to his house. She couldn't have possibly just woken up one day and chosen violence. Who knew what had been going through her head for months now?She had walked back into his life as someone hardened, vengeful, and utterly fearless, not as the meek woman he had once controlled. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the golden liquid catch the light. The burn of alcoh
Diego sat back in his executive swivel chair, a small cup of coffee in his hand. His professional attire was a perfect contrast to the warmth of his triumphant grin. The sun poured in through the window walls, casting golden light over the rich wood and steel accents of the room. The television in his sleek office played the breaking news on every major channel. The headlines blared across the screen: "Corporate Scandal: Freya July Sells Major Stake in Dexus Innovations to Rival Competitor!" The accompanying footage showed reporters scrambling outside Desmond's towering headquarters, desperate for a comment, while stock market analysts discussed the fallout of Freya's calculated move.Diego took a tiny sip of the warm liquid in his mug, his eyes glued to the TV, as if savoring every word the reporters said."...a shocking betrayal by Freya July, Desmond's wife, who has sold a substantial portion of her shares to RavenTech Industries, one of Dexus Innovations’ fiercest competitors," t
The morning air in the city was crisp, carrying the faint hum of activity that grew louder with each passing hour. The glass façade of Dexus Innovations shone in the sunlight, casting a long shadow over the busy streets below. And inside, the tension was palpable. The grand ballroom on the twenty-fifth floor had been transformed into a stage for a high-stakes event. Rows of chairs lined the room, facing an imposing podium framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the city skyline. A team of technicians moved swiftly, adjusting microphones and ensuring the lighting was perfect. Journalists were already streaming in, setting up their equipment and chatting in low tones as they speculated about the announcement that had drawn such a crowd. Desmond had spent the morning pacing his office, his mood growing darker with each passing minute. Freya’s announcement had come with little warning, just a cryptic notification sent to his inbox the night before. He hated s