The welcome party2

Chaoter 4

Freya's POV

"This isn't good. How did my ex-boss end up as Mr. Smith's stepbrother?" I thought, feeling uneasy. Michael seemed to sense my tension, but before he could say anything, my worst fear stood before me. Ambrose was too engrossed in giving Michael a deep look to notice me.

"Enough of me, Meet Freya Rogers, my wife," his introduction hung in the air like a challenge, and I felt a surge of anxiety. I coughed suddenly, the sound forced and awkward. It was now or never; I had to face this.

"Hi, I'm... Freya..." I started, but Ambrose cut me off.

"What! Is this your wife, Michael?" His eyes widened in shock, clearly stunned to see me among all the women he could have met. He might have controlled me and my body in the past. I might have loved him foolishly. But this time, I was no longer the naive and lovesick Freya. I was a desperate woman fighting to save my mother.

"C'mon, why the look?" Michael asked, oblivious to the tension. "I should be the one surprised; everyone decided to arrive at this delicate time in my marriage." But Ambrose's eyes never left mine. I wondered what was going through his mind.

The tables had turned. This time, I would stop at nothing to get my revenge. I would claim my son and....

"Uncle Michael!" The little boy's delighted voice interrupted my thoughts. He ran into Michael's open arms, I watched Michael smile broadly and for the first time, I saw him happy.

"Hey, big boy! How have you been? Sorry I couldn't video call; I've been busy," Michael said, as I gazed at the innocent child. A pang hit me; I yearned to cuddle my boy, but he didn't recognize me.

"Waylen, that's enough," Ambrose said firmly, his voice slicing through the air. "Your uncle and I are busy; you should excuse the adults." Ambrose's gaze lingered on me, his eyes narrowing as he cut off Waylen's enthusiastic chatter. I knew it was because of me; he would never let me near my son.

I swallowed, "Isn't it great he's greeting his uncle?" I asked, facing Ambrose with a forced smile as Michael released Waylen.

"Hey, big boy, hurry over to Grandpa, okay? You'll talk to me after our discussion," Michael called after him, his voice warm and affectionate. I watched, my heart aching, as Waylen turned to leave. Our eyes met, and for a moment, time froze. I sensed an electrifying tension; had my son just given me a look?

"Hi," Waylen said, smiling, and my heart skipped a beat. Ambrose's voice cut through the moment, his tone sharp. "Waylen, now!"

I closed my eyes, clenching my fist as Waylen's words echoed in my mind. "Uncle Michael, your wife is so beautiful. I wish I had a mother like her." Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Oh, baby, I'm your mother, I thought. But I couldn't say it out loud.

For a second, Ambrose's eyes locked onto mine, and I knew I would never forgive him. The air was thick with tension, the silence between us heavy with unspoken words.

Michael's voice broke the spell. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his eyes searching mine. I nodded, forcing a smile.

Ambrose's sneer cut through the moment. "Wow, lil' bro, I actually thought you were into blondes. Why a brunette this time?" He raised an eyebrow, his gaze raking over me. I felt a familiar sting, his words echoing the body-shaming comments he'd made in the past.

Michael's response was immediate. "I changed," he said, his voice firm. I linked my arm with his, giving Ambrose a defiant look. This time, I would do anything to bring him down, make him beg on his knees. Even if it meant bringing Michael closer to me.

Michael's eyes locked onto Ambrose's, his gaze intense. "If you get to know Freya, she's the sweetest woman any man could have." I smiled, feeling a surge of gratitude toward Michael.

Ambrose's face darkened, his jaw clenched in anger. The tension between the two men was palpable, the air thick with unspoken threats. I knew I had to intervene before things escalated.

"Sweetheart, we should go say hi to Grandpa," I said, my voice light, disrupting the tension. Michael nodded, his eyes never leaving Ambrose's face, as we turned to leave.

I acted all mighty in front of Ambrose, but the truth was, I was dead scared. Fear gripped my heart like a vice, threatening to suffocate me. What if he came to hurt me or threaten my mother's life again, like he did in the past? The memories of his cruel words and actions still lingered, haunting me.

He had threatened to end her life unless I stayed away from their lives years ago. Oh God! How did they end up becoming brothers? The thought sent a shiver down my spine. There was no way I could tell Michael about this; it was my problem, not his. Besides, what good would it do if he realized his so-called wife was the mother of his nephew?

"Hey, are you okay? There's an audience, Miss Rogers" Michael asked, his voice piercing through my trance-like state.

"Sure! Of course, I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile onto my face. But my eyes betrayed me, revealing the turmoil brewing inside.

"You know, you just have to avoid my stepbrother," Michael said, his eyes locked onto mine. "We really don't get along, and I wouldn't want you..." He paused, his gaze intense. "You know what; just forget it. Excuse me for a while."

He released our locked arms, and I felt a pang of disappointment. I watched as he walked away, his broad shoulders disappearing into the crowd.

After a quick word with Grandpa, who seemed like the nicest person in Michael's family, I couldn't find Waylen. I decided to look around for him,it was getting windy and dark.

"You know, you should learn how to mind your business," Ambrose said, stepping out of the shadows. His voice sent a chill down my spine.

"C'mon, Freya, are you still head over heels for wealthy men for material gain?" He sneered, his eyes glinting with malice.

I closed my eyes, feeling a surge of anger. My fists clenched, and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

"You know, Michael doesn't love you," Ambrose continued, his words dripping with venom. "Like I told you, you can never find anyone to love you. Michael will never love you."

I exhaled a chuckle, a cold, mirthless sound. "Not everyone's like you, Ambrose. You're a monster, and I'm not going to let you make my boy one."

Ambrose's grip on my arm tightened, his fingers digging into my skin. "Stay away from my son. You have no right to be his mother. He doesn't even know you, you bitch."

I lost it, sending a scorching slap across his face. I knew I had made the situation worse, but I didn't regret it.

"How dare you!" Ambrose spat, raising his hand. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the impact. But it never came.

"Would you rather I take the mic and announce to everyone that...you're nothing but a whore?" Ambrose sneered. "Of course, you won't expect me to disclose your relationship with Waylen."

I felt a sting from his words, but I refused to back down.

"You bastard! I wish I never met you. I won't let you take Waylen from me. I'll..."

Ambrose's eyes glinted with malice. "You know what I'm capable of doing, Freya. I suppose your mom is still alive."

My heart skipped a beat. I closed my eyes, biting my lips until I could taste blood. I didn't say a word as I took a step to leave.

"Michael's marriage is a sham," Ambrose called out. "You both are so stupid. He has no place in those inheritances. You're just wasting your time."

I laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "You still look miserable, Ambrose. I pity you."

As I walked away, Ambrose's parting shot hit me like a slap. "Your husband left you to be with his stunning ex. Who are you compared to Emma, you skinny wench?"

I ignored him, increasing my pace. The wind and rain pounded against me, but I didn't stop. I never knew why, but my eyes became teary .

I kept walking, searching for no one, as I became restless and pained.

"Sweetheart, it's raining. I can't let you drive. I know you still feel it, and that's why I won't let you drive," a woman's voice said.

I paused, wondering who it was. Then I walked closer and looked further, my heart sinking. Emma, Michael's stunning ex, stood beside him, looking breathtaking. Together, alone.

I never knew why I was feeling this way, but the tears slowly ran down my face. And then I thought, What had rain got to do with him driving?