Freya’s POV
After the hospital check up, I took my daughter home.
Once I’d settled her in, I went upstairs to start gathering our documents.
That was when I suddenly heard a voice behind me.
“Freya, what are you doing?”
I paused for a heartbeat, forcing down the wave of hatred in my chest, and answered evenly, “I’m packing our documents.”
Rodney didn’t sense anything amiss.
As always, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me from behind.
I hadn’t expected it and couldn’t dodge in time. His embrace closed around me completely. But the moment the scent of Harper’s perfume—so distinctly hers—hit my nose, I nearly gagged.
He didn’t notice my stiff reaction and went on speaking as if nothing were wrong.
“Freya, I’m just so relieved you and our daughter are safe. I never imagined something would happen at the amusement park. If I had known, no matter how urgent work was, I would never have left you two behind.”
His tone carried lingering fear, his words spoken with such conviction.
But knowing the truth, I felt nothing at all.
I lifted my gaze to him. Rodney’s expression was as gentle as ever.
These arms had once been a safe harbor for me and my daughter.
Now, they were the very weapon poised to destroy us.
The thought made me lower my eyes. Without a trace of emotion, I slipped his arm away from my waist.
“It’s fine. Your work is important. My daughter and I are safe.”
Rodney, long accustomed to my understanding nature, frowned slightly and put on a show of pained sincerity.
“How could work ever be more important than you and our daughter? I honestly don’t know… If, after losing our son, I were to lose you two as well—how could I go on living?”
At the mention of our dead son, I couldn’t stop the flash of hatred that passed through my eyes.
Before I could speak, his phone rang.
He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and gave me a smile.
“It’s someone from the company. I’ll step outside to take this call.”
I nodded calmly, though my nails dug so deep into my palm that they drew blood.
When he raised the phone, I caught the name flashing on the screen—exactly as I expected. It was Harper.
From outside came his hurried, anxious voice. For some reason, my stomach tightened with unease.
A moment later, he stormed back in, eyes blazing, and without warning, he slapped me hard across the face.
“Why did you lay a hand on Harper? She’s pregnant right now! If anything happens to her, I’ll make you pay with your life!”
I clutched my cheek, staring at him in utter disbelief.
The moment he saw the mark blooming across my skin, he froze.
Something flickered in his eyes—something complicated. He reached out, as if to touch my face.
But before his fingers could graze my skin, the phone rang again.
He gave me one long, heavy look, and then he turned and walked out.
I bolted downstairs, intent on grabbing my daughter and leaving this hell.
But I hadn’t even reached the front door before Rodney caught me, his grip on my arm like iron.
Without a word, he dragged me and Farrah toward the car. No matter how hard she cried, he refused to let go.
