She Took The House The Car And My Heart

Chapter 16 Chapter 16 You Could've At Least Picked A Believa...

Before Kristian could utter a word, Freya cut him off sharply. "Stop staring." "I have something to discuss with you," Kristian said, steering the conversation away from the weight of his own guilt.

Still drying her hair, Freya cracked the door open just enough to fix him with a dismissive look. "If this is about Ashley or Trent, save your breath. There's nothing to say." "It's not," Kristian replied, irritation flickering beneath his calm tone. Her attitude grated on him What he really wanted was to peel back the layers and see who she truly was.

Freya set the towel aside and sighed. "Go ahead." "I'd like to visit your family," Kristian said, his voice firm, though the request was little more than a pretext. "My grandpa made a valid point-in two years of marriage, I never once met your parents. That's inexcusable "There's no need," Freya countered flatly.

"It's just an apology. I won't overstay my welcome." His voice was low, deliberate.

Freya didn't budge. "Seriously, drop it." "Why the resistance?" Kristian's eyes narrowed. "Are you hiding something?" Gerard's earlier insinuations resurfaced in his mind.

"Exactly." Freya met his gaze without flinching, her expression dead serious. "My family's'filthy rich. I'm afraid you'll get dollar signs in your eyes, refuse to divorce me, and then siphon off my inheritance to fund Ashley's lifestyle." Kristian stared at her, momentarily speechless. He didn't buy a word of it—but he humored her anyway. "None. I know every major family and corporation. Which one's yours?" "The Briggs Group," Freya shot back without hesitation.

She had no reason to lie. Her identity wasn't swell-guarded secret.

Hugh Briggs's daughter was common knowledge in elite circles-except the one everyone recognized was her younger sister.

Freya had always preferred solitude over socializing, so few outside her inner circle even knew she existu "You could've at least picked a believable lie," Kristian scoffed. "I've met Hugh Briggs' daughter. She looks nothing like you." 0.0% 75.33 m° 0° I"Oh " Freya's response was ice-cold.

The difference between her and her sister couldn't be starker.

Where Freya embraced simplicity, her sister dripped in elegance every outfit curâted, every smile polished to perfection.

"Half a day. That's all I'm asking." Kristian pressed. "I won't monopolize their time." "You didn't care to visit when we were married. Why start now?" Freya's tone was light, almost mocking, "People might think you're doing this out of spite." "Because I never- "If you'd truly wanted to meet them, you would've done it years ago," Freya interrupted, her usual composure slipping into blunt impatience. "Last time, Kristian. Drop it." Her defiance only sharpened his curiosity.

The harder she resisted, the more he wondered about the life she'd led before him.

The address on her passport had led him to an unremarkable neighborhood in Alerith-hardly the backdrop of Hugh Briggs's daughter.

"Why are you so against this?" he demanded.

"Because I don't need my dad laughing at me," Freya said, her voice eerily detached. "If you waltz in and announce we were married for two years before splitting, how do you think he or his new wife-would see me?" Her words dragged his thoughts back to last night.

Freya had mentioned her strained family ties, her father's remarriage.

"Then letvisit your mom," Kristian offered, shifting tactics.

Freya's hand froze mid-air, the toner bottle hovering as her expression went blank.

Kristian caught the flicker of something raw-something she quickly smothered. Just as he opened his mouth to push further, Freya steadied herself, picked up the bottle, and said tonelessly, "My mother is dead." The words hit him like a punch to the gut.

Of all the possibilities he'd considered, this wasn't one of them.

"I..." For once, he was at a loss.

"If that's all," Freya said, replacing the bottle with deliberate calm, "we're done here. We've got a divorce to file tomorrow." Kristian's gaze sharpened, weighing her mood before settling on a quiet, "Good night." "Good night." Freya's reply was flat, devoid of warmth.

He didn't press further. At the door, his broad frseemed to shrink the room as his hand hovered over the knob. A last glance at Freya-her face unreadable, her posture unchanged-and he left without another word, 30.2% 1 15:34 0 < Chapter 16 You Could've At Least Picked A Believable Lie the latch clicking softly behind him.

Sleep eluded them both.

Kristian twisted in the sheets, the impending divorce a leaden weight on his chest. Worse was the gnawing realization: after two years, he knew nothing of Freya's life. Not even that her mother was gone.

Freya drowned in nightmares.

Each time, the scruel finale: her mother's arms around her, the whisper against her hair-"Mina, don't be afraid. I'm here."-before the dream splintered, and those loving hands dissolved like smoke.

She'd scramble, grasping at emptiness.

"Mom! Mom!" Her child-self and adult-self ran in futile tandem, legs pumping, throat raw, but the silhouette ahead only receded further.

Freya jolted awake, her skin slick with sweat.

She lay still, waiting for her pulse to slow, then dragged herself upright against the headboard.

It had been so long since she'd dreamed of her mother.

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was barely three in the morning. She sat ΟΠ up against the headboard, trying to steady herself, then reached for the glass of water on her nightstand. It was empty. With a quiet sigh, she got out of bed and headed downstairs.

She didn't bother turning on the lights.

Unlike the harsh clarity of daylight, the night felt safer.

In the dark, there were no illusions, no pretenses-just silence stretching endlessly around her.

As she filled a glass with water, her mind remained tangled in the dream.

For two years, she had tried not to think too much about her mother, bring more fearing that dwelling on the past would only bring more pain that if she ached for her too much, her mother's spirit might worry for her from wherever she was. But tonight, that buried longing surged to the surface, relentless and unstoppable, breaking free like roots cracking through stone.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice someone else in the dark until she accidentally bumped into him. The sudden contact sent a splash of water spilling-sonto him, sonto herself. Before she could react, a low, drowsy voice sounded above her. "Why didn't you turn on the light?" "It's unnecessary," Freya said, her voice as calm as ever, offering no further explanation.

Kristian exhaled and reached for the switch. The room was instantly flooded with light.

Freya flinched, eyelids squeezing shut against the assault. When she opened them, Kristian stood frozer glare, water darkening his shirt.

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