Chapter 2

Freya returned home and began packing her belongings while waiting for Francis.

For eighteen years, Francis had been so good to her. Every item displayed in her room bore his touch—paper stars he'd folded by hand, beautiful dresses he'd given her, a diamond tiara he'd won at auction by bidding an astronomical sum.

These things she once treasured now looked like nothing more than a pile of junk.

Dawn light filtered through the window.

Dark circles under her eyes, Freya stepped out of her now-empty room and walked straight into Francis's arms.

"Freya, throwing yourself at me so early in the morning?"

"Leaving you yesterday was my fault. I've rescheduled the wedding. Tomorrow, I promise nothing like that will happen again."

Freya caught the heavy scent of roses clinging to him, and her throat tightened as if stuffed with cotton.

Only after everything was over did he remember her.

Did he want to make her the laughingstock of Capital City again?

Freya pushed him away. "Francis, let's end this."

In an instant, his expression darkened like a gathering storm.

The smile still hung at the corner of his lips, yet she could clearly sense his anger.

"Freya, I know you're upset that I left with Chloe yesterday. You can hit me, curse me—anything. But don't you ever say we're over!"

Freya frowned, about to tell him she was serious, when his phone rang and cut her off.

Whatever was said on the other end made his face change dramatically.

He grabbed her wrist hard.

"Chloe's being held at a casino. You know some martial arts—come with me and help get her out."

Pain shot through her wrist. He had to care that much to be this frantic.

Bitterness spread from her heart to her mouth, so bitter her eyes grew wet.

Fine. She'd help him this once—consider it repayment for everything the Vance family had done for her.

Only when they arrived did Freya learn the deal: a one-for-one exchange.

Inside the private room, over a dozen menacing men surrounded a pale-faced Chloe.

Freya's eyes met those of a man sitting in the corner, watching the scene unfold, and her heart lurched.

Kieran James. The man who'd pursued her for five solid years. When had he returned to the country?

"Tsk. Didn't expect the young Mr. Vance would actually bring Freya Gilbert here for his soulmate from a past life."

Before Francis could speak, Chloe let out a contemptuous laugh. "I told you—Francis will always take care of me."

Francis's eyes were full of concern for Chloe. He turned to Freya. "Chloe can't get hurt. Freya, stay here and stall them for now."

The next second, he shoved her forward.

This was the second time. Abandoned without hesitation because of Chloe. A sharp ache pierced Freya's chest.

Kieran rose unhurriedly, having seen enough. The overwhelming pressure of his presence seemed to slow the very air around them.

"Freya, is a man like that worth your tears?"

She looked up at him without a word. Her reddened eyes made Kieran freeze—something like surrender, or perhaps heartache, flickered across his face. He reached out and wiped the tear from the corner of her eye. "Does our bet still stand?"

A year ago, faced with his ninety-ninth confession, Freya had made a wager to make him give up: if the day ever came when Francis no longer loved her, she would accept him.

She never expected that day to come so soon.

Freya pressed her lips together. A bet was a bet.

Even after holding the marriage certificate in her hands, it still felt unreal.

"Kieran, come pick me up in three days."

The James family's home was three or four cities away from Capital City. Before leaving, Freya wanted to visit her master in the countryside.

That little old man who always used to sneak her candy.

Kieran's hand covered hers. When he felt her body stiffen slightly, he chuckled softly. "As you wish, wife."