Morning light hadn't even settled across the room when the villa's landline jolted Freya awake. Still half-asleep, she reached for the receiver and murmured, "Who's calling?"

Her throat felt raw, and even that small sentence scraped on the way out.

"Freya, what happened to you? Are you feeling sick?" On the other end, Zoie Lambert's worried voice rushed in.

Heat crept up Freya's cheeks, and she couldn't bring herself to admit that Alexander had kept her up all night—not even to her best friend. She forced out a reply instead. "It's nothing serious. I just caught a cold. Why are you calling so early?"

Zoie sounded baffled. "We planned to celebrate your freedom today, remember? I've been waiting at the restaurant forever, and you never showed up or picked up your phone."

That reminder snapped Freya out of her daze. She bolted upright and checked the clock, and her stomach dropped. It was already eleven.

Their appointment to finish the legal procedure for their divorce had already passed.

Her eyes swept across the bedroom, and there was no trace of Alexander anywhere.

She cursed him silently, certain he had slipped out without saying a word.

Later, at Luna Restaurant, Zoie fixated on the bandage wrapped around Freya's hand. After hearing how she got hurt and how she had dealt with it alone, Zoie's temper flared. "Alexander is unbelievable! What kind of husband just disappears when his wife is injured? You needed him to sign the paperwork, and he ignored every call so he could mess around with some other woman. Then he even let you face her insults?"

Her outrage echoed through the restaurant, and several customers turned their heads. Freya lifted a hand to cover part of her face and whispered, "Please, Zoie. Keep your voice down."

"That's not happening! I haven't even given you a proper lecture yet. Have you lost your senses? Are you suddenly second-guessing this divorce?" Zoie nearly exploded.

Freya tried to explain herself in a rush. "It's not like I'm backing out. We just didn't get to do it this morning."

She remembered calling Alexander, but his assistant answered and brushed her off, claiming he was caught up in a meeting.

"Don't tell me you missed it because you slept in!" Zoie was having none of it. She gave Freya a dramatic eye roll. "Three years of marriage with nothing between you, and now you jump into bed with him the night before you're supposed to end things? Is that your idea of a dramatic farewell?"

Trying to defend herself, Freya sighed. "So what if I wanted to let loose a little before it's all over?"

A low laugh cut through their conversation.

Freya's head whipped around, and she found herself staring into Alexander's cold eyes.

He looked like he'd stepped straight out of a fashion magazine cover, and standing next to him was another man in an equally sharp suit, whose laughter still lingered.

She recognized Timothy Fowler instantly, Alexander's closest friend.

Right beside Timothy stood Yvonne. After hearing Zoie's outburst and putting the pieces together, Yvonne's cheerful expression faltered for a moment.

Clearly, Yvonne never saw this coming. She had purposely sent Freya that video last night, even arranged for someone to call her, all in hopes of stirring up trouble.

Everything should have gone according to her plan. Alexander was supposed to want nothing to do with Freya, not end up in bed with her.

If anyone understood Alexander's self-control, it was Yvonne.

However, when it came to Freya last night, all of Alexander's self-control seemed to vanish.

Maybe something inside him had shifted, and he hadn't even noticed.

Three years spent oceans apart, but Freya never left his side. Who's to say he didn't start seeing her differently somewhere along the way?

The idea stung, and jealousy wormed its way deeper into Yvonne's chest, souring her feelings toward Freya even more.

While Yvonne stewed in silence, Timothy decided to stir the pot. He grinned at Freya and asked, "So, Mrs. Scott, how was it last night?"

Freya would have ignored a question like that. This time, though, she caught the warning glint in Alexander's eyes and couldn't resist. She flashed a playful smile. "Honestly, it was nothing to write home about."

It was the sort of answer bound to bruise any man's ego, but for someone as proud as Alexander, it was a direct blow.

The look he shot Freya turned colder, nearly dangerous.

She, however, seemed perfectly content. No longer feeling the need to look after his feelings, she matched his glare with a confident tilt of her chin.

The shift in her attitude left Alexander unsettled. He realized Freya wasn't the gentle, patient woman she used to be, not since Tricia's death. Now she stood her ground, tossed sharp words his way, and refused to back down.

But as soon as he remembered how desperate she was to move on, it all made sense. With nothing left to gain here, why would she bother pretending?

"Three this afternoon," Alexander said curtly and turned on his heel, making it clear he wanted nothing more to do with the conversation.

"Alexander." Yvonne hurried to catch up to him, but not before sending Freya one last glare as she disappeared around the corner.

"You've got guts, Freya, calling out Alexander like that. I'm impressed," Timothy remarked with a low whistle, his tone a strange mix of awe and amusement, before trailing after the others.

She didn't waste a second thinking about Timothy's words. Instead, her thoughts drifted to Alexander's announcement—three o'clock at the courthouse, where they would finalize the divorce.

With that settled, a wave of relief washed over her, and for the first time all day, her appetite returned.

After Timothy disappeared from view, Zoie finally broke her silence. Leaning in with wide eyes, she whispered, "Freya, is Alexander really that... you know?"

Freya blinked, confused. "That what?"

A quick gesture from Zoie spelled it out, and everything clicked into place for Freya.

Truthfully, her earlier comment about Alexander was far from the full story. The start had been rough, but things did get better afterward. What Alexander lacked in finesse, he certainly made up for with sheer physical presence.

In that regard, his body picked up the slack where experience didn't.

None of Alexander's shortcomings were really his own doing, though. Had Freya not spent years coaxing him into drinking those herbal tonics, he probably still wouldn't even be capable of intimacy now.

Naturally, there was no chance she'd ever share that part of the truth with Zoie.

"Enough about him, or I'll lose my appetite. Did you get any news about that property I mentioned?" Freya said with a dismissive wave, brushing the topic aside.

Zoie nodded, but her face fell. "I checked into it, but the rent is outrageous. With you about to split from Alexander, and with how much he hates you, do you honestly think he'll give you anything at all?"

"I'm not expecting a thing from him. I'm ready to walk away with nothing," Freya answered without hesitation.

"Why would you settle for that?" That only made Zoie bristle. "You two only get married because his aunt made him, not because you forced him. You spent three years by his side, looking after him without complaint. Now his aunt's gone, and you're stepping aside so Yvonne can have him. What else does he want from you?"

Freya reached across the table and offered Zoie a glass of water. "Calm down, will you? Just breathe."

"How am I supposed to calm down?" Zoie slammed her hand on the table. "Honestly, I hope Alexander can't perform with Yvonne at all!"

For a second, Freya was at a loss for words.

Zoie didn't realize that sort of wish would never come true and Alexander would never have that problem—maybe three years ago, but definitely not now.

If he did, Brett himself might crawl out of his grave just to scold her for being useless.

"You're too forgiving, Freya. That's exactly why Alexander walked all over you for three years," Zoie said with a deep sigh as she watched Freya shrug off the anger. "But maybe this is for the best. Letting go of him will be the best thing you ever do. Honestly, it's his loss. He's going to wake up one day and realize what he threw away."

Freya gave a quiet nod, fully agreeing.

The conversation shifted as Zoie took a steadying breath. "If you're low on funds, I'll put down the deposit for you. That spot won't stay available for long. You can't hesitate, or someone else will snatch it up."

Even though the Lambert family wasn't at the top of Giastead's social circle, Zoie still had plenty more money than Freya could dream of. And that made it easy for Freya to accept her offer.

"Thank you, Zoie. Please go ahead and lock it in for me."

When lunch wrapped up and Zoie headed her own way, Freya flagged down a taxi and set off for the hospital.

Erick Wilson's face lit up with surprise the moment he spotted Freya, but his happiness quickly faded when he caught sight of the bandage on her hand. "What happened to you? Did you hurt yourself?"

Freya shrugged off his concern. "Just a run-in with some broken glass. Nothing serious."

Worried that he'd press for more details, she pretended she was about to peel off the bandage to reassure him.

Erick quickly stopped her, gently holding her hand in place. "Don't even think about it. You need to keep it clean and dry."

Freya felt a wave of relief wash over her. The gash on her hand looked bad, but at least Erick didn't push for a look for himself.

He couldn't help himself as he poured her some water. "So, what brings you by today?"

Instead of answering right away, Freya simply flashed a playful grin. "Erick, would you mind giving me a quick check-up?"

He went into doctor mode instantly, concern sharpening his features. "Are you not feeling well? Where does it hurt?"

Erick wasted no time, running through the tests and checks until the results came back. The instant he saw them, his mood soured, and he shot up from his seat. "You must have lost your mind!"

That was when he noticed the faint marks along her neck, and his expression darkened. "You've spent years helping him recover, and now that he's finally getting better, you went and put yourself in the line of fire just to see if the treatment worked?"

"I understand, Erick." Freya's voice was soft, and the exhaustion in her eyes said it all. "We're getting divorced today. Once I'm gone, I won't be able to watch over him, and who knows how long the toxins will linger in his system? If anything goes wrong, it'll be like all these years meant nothing."

Frustration flashed in Erick's expression. "What's the worst that could happen? His aunt just passed away, and he steps right into her place, running the Scott Group like he owns every street in Giastead."

She tried to calm him down, offering a small smile. "Don't work yourself up over it, Erick. None of this will be my concern much longer. Anyway, could you write me a prescription? I could use something to help me recover."

With a heavy sigh, Erick pulled his chair closer and scribbled on his pad. "You're lucky it's only a minor tear. Are you already taking something for it?"

"Yes, I am." Freya nodded quickly.

That was a lie, but she couldn't bring herself to admit it. She planned to tough it out and let her body heal the slow way.

The kind of medicine Alexander used to take worked miracles but was also far beyond her budget now, and that was the only reason she came to Erick for help.

Once the prescription was ready, Erick had his assistant fetch the medicine for her.

He returned to his seat and looked at her with genuine concern. "So, what's next for you, Freya?"

"I want to open a restaurant focused on medicinal foods. It was my grandmother's dream, and I'd like to carry it on," Freya replied.

Erick shook his head slightly. "Have you thought about working in a hospital? With your knowledge, it feels like a waste to limit yourself to the kitchen."

"You already know I'm not capable of practicing medicine the way I used to," Freya responded, a faint smile barely covering the ache behind her words.

Erick nodded in understanding, but disappointment lingered in his eyes. He had hoped, after all this time—especially after Freya devoted three years to caring for Alexander—she would have finally moved past the old wounds. Clearly, that wasn't the case.

"If Brett were still around, he'd want nothing more than for you to continue his life's work." He tried again to convince her.

"Isn't that exactly what you're doing now? Besides, I'll still be able to help people at the restaurant. If you ever meet patients who could use some dietary guidance, send them my way," Freya remarked, quickly steering the conversation elsewhere, a teasing grin chasing away the gloom.

Erick let out a reluctant laugh and decided to let it go. "I can do that. Do you have enough saved up to get this place off the ground?"

"I'm working with Zoie. She's fronting the money, and I'll handle everything else," Freya replied with a light chuckle.

That answer sparked Erick's irritation all over again. "Who would've guessed that after three years as Mrs. Scott, you'd walk away with nothing to your name? Not even enough for a restaurant lease."

It was true. No one would have expected that outcome. Even Alexander himself would be shocked.

Alexander would probably sit down and tally up the numbers, figuring she pocketed a million each month, so that must mean she walked away with thirty-six million over three years.

The truth couldn't be farther from that. Freya barely had sixty thousand left to her name.

When her medication was ready and she stood to leave, Erick decided to walk her out. While the two waited curbside for a taxi, he glanced over and asked, "So, are you honestly not upset about ending things with Alexander?"

Sadness actually lingered beneath her calm exterior. Yet she had to do this. Alexander never loved her, and Freya refused to waste her life hoping that might change.

There was no point in staying tied to a man who could never return her feelings.

"I'm a little sad," she admitted, sending him a smile. "Mostly because I'll miss living at the Bayview Villa."

That made Erick chuckle. He reached over and ruffled her hair. "If it's a villa you want, I'll buy you one myself."

She barely had time to reply before Erick's arm shot out and yanked her back by the waist.

A sleek luxury car tore down the street, barely missing them as it flew past.

Erick's quick reflexes were the only reason disaster was avoided; he'd yanked Freya out of harm's way in the nick of time.

The color drained from her cheeks, and her breath came in shaky bursts.

Wrapping his arms around her, Erick murmured, "You're alright. I've got you."

From the backseat of the car, Timothy let out a low whistle and couldn't resist a jab. "Isn't that Erick Wilson? He's practically the golden man among doctors these days—everyone with a title in Giastead wants an appointment with him. Even my grandmother won't see anyone else whenever she's under the weather. Looks like Freya has her eyes set on him next. Still, compared to you, Erick's status doesn't even hold a candle."

Alexander's jaw tightened, his face turning grim.

He'd always known Freya wanted out of their marriage, probably to find someone new. Watching her get close to another man before the ink on the divorce papers was dry sparked something ugly inside him.

It almost felt like she was betraying him in broad daylight, and the jealousy burned hotter than he wanted to admit.

Timothy tilted his head, genuinely curious. "Are you angry? Weren't you counting down the days until you could get rid of her? You're finally about to be free, and she's not exactly trading up. Shouldn't you be celebrating?"

Alexander kept silent, but the storm in his eyes only grew darker.

A slow grin spread across Timothy's face as an idea dawned on him. "Don't tell me you've actually caught feelings for her?"

"Shut up," Alexander snapped, his glare sharp enough to cut.

Timothy only laughed, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Guess I struck a nerve, huh?"

That earned him a look so cold it could freeze the air, and he finally held his tongue.

Still, Timothy tucked away his theory, already looking forward to seeing how things would play out.