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.

At 2:40, Freya sat waiting on a bench outside the courthouse, tapping her foot and checking her watch.

3:00 came and went with no sign of Alexander. She reasoned he might be caught in afternoon traffic.

By 3:30, still alone, she pulled out her phone and dialed his number, only to be met with silence—he wasn't picking up.

When the clock hit 4:00, Freya gave up waiting and hailed a cab straight to the Scott Group offices.

Three years of marriage had made the building feel almost routine. Through rain or sunshine, she'd always delivered homemade tonic soup to Alexander.

Today, however, she found herself halted at the entrance by a receptionist she'd never seen before.

"Do you have an appointment?" the woman asked, her tone brisk.

Freya realized the old receptionist—hired by Tricia—was gone, replaced after Alexander took over the company. She couldn't help thinking that Alexander must have truly wanted to erase every trace of his aunt.

Without another word, Freya turned away and sent Alexander a pointed message, saying, "I'm downstairs in your lobby. If you don't want your new receptionist finding out I'm your wife, you'd better send someone to let me up."

She was sure Alexander wouldn't want that part of his life made public.

True to form, Alexander's trusted assistant—Rodney Clayton—appeared a few minutes later, guiding her to the executive elevator reserved for Alexander.

When they reached the top floor, Rodney smiled politely as he opened the office door. "Mrs. Scott, Mr. Scott is in a meeting at the moment. Can I get you a coffee while you wait?"

Freya shook her head, stepped inside, and settled into the office, her mind already racing ahead.

Nothing about Alexander's office had changed. The crisp black-and-white decor remained, sharp lines and cool tones giving the room its familiar air. What always caught Freya's attention every time, though, was the mural behind his desk—a sprawling, striking whale, rendered in rich detail across the back wall.

Her eyes found it once more, lingering on the inscription near the bottom. "The whale is drawn to the sea, and I'm drawn to you."

It was impossible to forget who the message was meant for. Alexander was shouting out his love for Yvonne.

Long before their wedding, Alexander had asked Yvonne to paint it, making his resentment over Tricia's forced marriage arrangements painfully clear.

Every time Freya entered this space, the reminder stung—how much he loved Yvonne and how much he'd resented being tied to her instead.

Lost in these thoughts, Freya didn't notice Alexander walk in until she heard the door click shut.

She quickly looked away from the mural, forcing any hint of sadness from her eyes. "You said 3:00 at the courthouse. Why weren't you there?"

Alexander gave her a wry look, his tone playful. "Funny, yesterday you said ten a.m. But you didn't show up either, remember?"

Freya retorted without missing a beat, "You know why I missed it."

With a smirk, Alexander replied, "Do I? I seem to recall I was the one left cleaning up your mess last night."

For a second, Freya was left speechless.

Only Alexander could talk about something like that with the same ease as discussing the weather. His shamelessness had no limit.

Refusing to engage with his antics, Freya checked the time and steered the conversation back. "Alright, we've each missed an appointment. That makes us even. If we leave now, we can still make it to the courthouse."

Alexander barely spared her a glance. "I don't have time for this," he said, striding toward his desk.

Freya stepped in front of him, blocking his way. "Alexander, care to explain what you're playing at?"

She lifted her right arm, and only then did he notice the fresh bandage wrapped around her hand.

He blurted out, "What happened to your hand?"

"So now you're paying attention? Last night you couldn't see a thing, and today you're suddenly observant, Mr. Scott?" Freya's voice dripped with sarcasm.

The question was out before Alexander could stop himself. A moment later, he wished he hadn't bothered. Why should he care? The sharp bite in Freya's words only made his irritation flare.

He scoffed, "You're really something, biting the hand that feeds you."

Freya held up her bandaged hand, meeting his sneer. "That goes both ways, Alexander."

She wasn't about to let him talk down to her, not anymore.

Something flickered across Alexander's face—a memory of those years when Freya would tease him just to get him to smile and coax him into drinking her bitter herbal soups.

Since Tricia's death, those days felt like a different lifetime. Freya didn't make soup for him anymore. She didn't even try to lift his mood.

"Alexander, are you just going to stand there daydreaming? If we don't leave soon, we'll miss our slot." Freya snapped him out of it, waving her hand in front of his eyes.

Annoyed by the sight of the bandage, Alexander pushed past her and made for his desk. "Can't you see the pile of files? Not all of us have the luxury of sitting at home and watching money roll in."

Freya's patience snapped as he kept harping on the same point. "Why are you so worked up? It's not even your fortune I'm spending. Stop pretending I've raided your accounts."

During their three years together, not once had she dipped into his bank balance.

Alexander gave a short, mocking laugh. "Maybe you're just mad I never handed you some. Did Erick treat you any better?"

His question caught her off guard. "Wait—you saw us?"