Chapter 204 Freya Bates
Byron stopped in his tracks as he saw someone in the lobby. Liam, who had been following him, also halted and looked in the direction Byron was staring.
A slim woman stood near the waiting area, her tear-streaked face gazing at Byron with a mixture of longing and sadness. But it wasn’t just her tears that caught Liam’s attention—it was her face.
“Miss Bates?” Liam’s voice was filled with surprise.
Although Liam had never met Freya, he knew that Athena resembled her, and Ruby resembled her even more. Seeing this familiar face, the name quickly came to mind.
“Byron,” Freya’s voice was soft as she took a step forward, walking towards them.
Byron stood frozen, his expression as cold as stone. His posture was rigid, almost as if he was bracing for something he didn’t want to face.
“Liam, you can leave now,” Byron said, his tone clipped.
“Yes, sir,” Liam replied, though his anxiety was palpable. He desperately wanted to call Athena, to tell her what was happening, but he knew his place. Byron’s assistant, not a friend, not a confidant. No matter his concern for the woman standing before them, he had no choice but to obey.
Liam glanced at Freya one last time before walking away.
Freya stopped in front of Byron, her figure frail and thinner than when he last saw her. The last time they met, she’d looked healthier—more vibrant. Now, she seemed sickly, almost fragile.
“Why are you here?” Byron’s voice was cold, distant. His words seemed more like an accusation than a question.
“I’m sorry,” Freya replied, her eyes red from crying. “Last time, I should’ve listened to you… and come back with you.”
Byron’s brow furrowed. He remembered that day all too well—the day he went to Europe with the intent of bringing her back. He had tried to find an excuse, but deep down, he couldn’t ignore his concern for her.
“I’m already divorced,” she continued, her voice trembling. “Byron, does what you said still count?”
Byron’s mind flashed back to that painful memory. He had gone to Europe to check on Freya, to see if she had gotten the retribution he believed she deserved. But what he found shattered that idea completely.
Freya had been forced into marriage by her own family, with the support of his mother and grandmother. They never liked Freya, and when they learned that Byron was close to waking up, they united with her family to push her into an arranged marriage. They even spread lies about her, accusing her of being a gold-digger.
Once married, Freya’s husband turned out to be a monster—not just cheating on her, but physically abusing her.
The memories rushed in: the bruises on Freya’s face, the cuts on her hands. His heart had ached as he saw the woman he once cared for so broken.
He couldn’t hold back. “He treats you like this—why don’t you divorce him? Divorce him now. Come with me, I’ll take care of you!”
The memory faded, leaving only the weight of what he had failed to prevent.
Byron’s gaze fixed on Freya as he spoke, his voice a mixture of guilt and determination. “Freya, it was my mother and grandmother. They’re responsible for your suffering. I am partly responsible, and I will take care of you.”
Freya’s face showed no signs of recognition at his words. She seemed frozen, her eyes searching Byron’s face for something, but finding only distance.
“Okay… I see,” she whispered, a sad smile tugging at her lips.
She looked even more fragile now, her body swaying slightly as if the emotional weight of the conversation had drained the last of her strength. She glanced at Byron with that bleak smile, then turned away, her shoulders sagging as she began to walk toward the door.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she called over her shoulder, “I just wanted to see you. You… you seem to have something important to do, right? I’ll go now.”
With a final swipe at her tears, Freya turned her back to Byron and left.
Byron watched her leave, panic rising in his chest. Her back, so thin and frail, disappeared through the door. His heart raced as he realized just how much pain she was still carrying.
As she reached the door, Freya faltered, her body suddenly giving way. She collapsed to the ground, her knees buckling beneath her.
“Freya!” Byron’s voice broke through the silence as he rushed forward.
He knelt beside her, his hands shaking as he tried to lift her, his heart pounding in his chest. What had just happened? Why had she come here, only to leave in such a broken state?