Face to face with the devil

Chapter 20

Freya's POV

The night dragged on, and I didn't get a wink of sleep. Being in Ambrose's mansion felt like residing in the devil's lair. I stepped out of my room, constantly glancing at the clock. It was already past 8. I needed to get to Michael's place as soon as possible.

If he discovered I hadn't spent the night at the hospital, he might send his secretary to tail me. That was a complication I didn't need, especially with Waylen still missing.

"Freya, you're awake?" Ambrose's familiar cold voice cut through the air.

I turned to face him. "What are the cops saying?" I asked, frustration and confusion etched on my face.

Ambrose's expression remained impassive. " Where was the last time you saw Waylen?" I pressed, impatience creeping into my voice.

Ambrose's words dripped with sarcasm. "Are you nervous because you should be with your husband? Come on, Freya. Your husband will understand if you tell him you were searching for your missing child."

I clenched my fists, tempted to punch him, but restrained myself. Ambrose seemed to enjoy teasing me, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"I really don't have a problem keeping our little secret," he said, his voice low and mysterious. He paced slowly around me, his eyes never leaving mine. As he drew closer, his intense gaze made my heart skip a beat. The dimple on his jaw added a whimsical touch to his serious expression.

For a fleeting moment, I saw a resemblance to Michael, except for the differences in their eye color and height. Michael's piercing blue eyes and taller stature set him apart from Ambrose's brooding brown eyes and leaner build. I pushed the comparison aside, wondering why my mind was drifting to Michael when my son's life hung in the balance.

Ambrose's whisper sent shivers down my spine. "I can decide to tell Michael about us, and I can do otherwise." His warm breath danced across my skin, making me uncomfortable. I took a few steps back, trying to create some distance.

"I don't care if you tell him," I said nonchalantly, hiding my true feelings. Deep down, I hoped Ambrose would suddenly develop amnesia and forget everything we'd shared over the past five years.

But Ambrose just laughed maniacally. "But I won't," he said, his voice sharp and firm. His eyes gleamed with amusement, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

"You wanna know why?"

Ambrose's grin widened. "I'm enjoying the game, Freya. And what's the fun in revealing our secret? You'll be mine to command, sweetheart. But once Michael knows, I'll lose my leverage." His words dripped with malice, and I realized he'd been playing me all along.

"Don't worry, Freya," Ambrose said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Michael doesn't have to know about us, does he? We can just continue our secret affair... don't you think?" His eyes sparkled with amusement, but I was having none of it.

My mind was made up. I needed to get out of here, and fast.

"I should get going," I said, eager to leave. "My husband is probably worried about me."

Ambrose's expression turned venomous. "Did you agree to a contract wedding with Michael just to save your mother? Isn't it time you said goodbye to her?"

His words ignited a fire within me. I slapped him across the face, my boldness surprising even myself.

Ambrose's eyes blazed with fury. "How dare you, little whore!" He retaliated with a scorching slap, sending me crashing to the floor.

I didn't cry, but my eyes burned with tears. I covered them with my hand, feeling the sting of his slap.

As Ambrose loomed over me, I scrambled backward, my body rubbing against the cold marble floor.

"Do you think you have the power to do whatever pleases you now that you're with Michael?" Ambrose sneered. "Tell me, Freya, has he taken you to bed yet? Did you enjoy him more than...?"

"You animal!" I spat, trying to wrestle free from his grip. He held my jaw tightly, his eyes boring into mine.

"Do you want to know how it feels after three years, Rogers?" he sneered. "Do you want to grace my bed? I bet you'll forget about that boy for a while."

Irritation etched on my face, I pushed his hand away. "I'd rather die!" I cursed.

Ambrose laughed triumphantly. "Then die, Freya Rogers! Why did you appear in my life again after three years? Why are you trying to ruin my plans?"

His outburst left me breathless, my heart racing like a drum. But suddenly, his demeanor changed, and he smiled.

The abrupt shift in his behavior sent a shiver down my spine.

"Let's cover these up," Ambrose said, nodding toward the marks on my face. "We need to go to the station together to search for Waylen."

My heart skipped a beat. Being seen with Ambrose in public was unthinkable. As a prominent figure, he was always in the spotlight, and his lack of a public partner only added to the mystery surrounding him.

"There's no way I'm going with you," I said, trying to sound firm. "I can go to the station alone. Waylen is my son, after all."

Ambrose's sly smile returned. "You can disguise yourself, Freya Rogers."

I knew he had an ulterior motive, and I refused to play along.

Ambrose's grip on my shoulders tightened. "What's happened to my little Freya, my chick? You've grown so big, and I'm afraid you'll only hurt yourself."

I tried to shake him off, but he held firm. "I'm a married woman and...."

Ambrose's words cut deep. "Right now, I have someone watching your mother in the hospital. Her hand is growing cold like ice... You know what I'm capable of, Freya. I don't give weak threats, my precious Freya."

My composure crumbled, my emotion had betrayed me completely. A tear escaped down my cheek. I knew I'd just messed up with my next response.

"How should I disguise?" I asked, trying to maintain some dignity.

Ambrose laughed, and I felt a sting.

Billionaires were a mess. To the public, they seemed perfect and adorable, but their secrets were nothing to be jealous of. How many more secrets did Michael's family hide?

I trudged along, my feet heavy with exhaustion and frustration. For the first time, I regretted having a child with Ambrose.

As I emerged in my new disguise, Ambrose mocked, "Wow, who would have thought a pauper could turn into a princess?"

I'd changed into a cowboy-inspired outfit, complete with a fringed golden wig that fell just above my butt. A cowboy hat shaded most of my face, leaving only a glimpse of my features visible.

"My dress made me more of a princess," I retorted, cutting Ambrose off mid-sentence.

He stared at me, a rare smile spreading across his face. It was the same smile that had captivated me years ago. But things had changed since I met Michael, and I couldn't quite put my finger on why.

"Freya, come back to me," Ambrose said, his voice low and persuasive. "You belong to me, we have a son. I'm giving you a chance to be with Waylen and end this goddamn contract marriage, for God's sake!"

I chuckled, a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Did I hear you say contract marriage?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Michael and I consummated our marriage days ago. He's a better lover than you, and..."

Ambrose's face darkened, and he cut me off. "He's a murderer!"

My heart skipped a beat. That was impossible, I thought.

Ambrose's eyes locked onto mine, his expression grave. "You need to stay away from him, Freya. Michael isn't who he claims to be."

I stood there, mute, searching for words to respond.