Chapter 313: Chapter 313 Work can wait, your health can’t
The doctor gently applied a layer of cooling cream over the burn, and Freya flinched as the cold touch met the raw heat of her skin. "This will help the pain," he said more softly this time. "But you’ll need to change the dressing daily and avoid getting it wet."
Freya nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you, doctor."
The man sighed again, his expression softening when he noticed her trembling shoulders. "You’re very young," he murmured, almost to himself. "Take better care of yourself, alright? Work can wait, your health can’t."
Freya gave a small, shaky nod. As she stepped out of the clinic into the quiet evening, the sky was streaked with gold and gray. She held her injured arm close, feeling the cream cool her skin while her heart burned quietly inside her chest.
She wanted to cry, but she didn’t. She just kept walking, the soft wind brushing against her face, carrying away the faint smell of medicine but not the ache in her heart.
Freya reached Alexa’s home just as the sun began to dip below the skyline, its orange light brushing the marble floors through the glass windows. Her bandaged arm throbbed faintly as she stepped inside, clutching her bag close to her chest. She wasn’t sure what mood she would find Alexa in. After the morning incident, she had prepared herself for another round of yelling.
But what she saw froze her mid-step.
Alexa was smiling.
Freya blinked, her mouth parting slightly. Did the world end? she thought in disbelief. Alexa sitting on the couch with a sweet smile was such a rare sight it almost felt unnatural. But the illusion shattered the moment Archer walked in from the kitchen, holding a neatly arranged plate of sliced fruit and a glass of juice.
Behind him, one of the older maids followed helplessly, looking flustered. "Sir, I told you, I’ll do it," she said softly, wringing her hands.
Archer didn’t answer. He simply set the plate and glass on the table in front of Alexa. His sleeves were rolled up, his movements calm but firm, the faint scent of citrus clinging to him.
"Thank you, hubby!" Alexa said with a pout, lifting her face toward him like a pampered cat.
Archer gave her a flat look. "It’s for the baby," he said coldly, picking up the magazine he had left earlier.
Freya watched silently from the doorway, her eyes focused on him for a moment longer. He looked young, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six, his sharp jawline and blue eyes making him look both distant and refined. He seems like a gentleman, she thought quietly. How did someone like him end up with her?
She sighed inwardly. Once she found a better job, she would never look back.
"Freya?" Archer’s voice snapped her from her thoughts. He had noticed her standing there and gave her a faint, polite smile. But the moment his gaze dropped to her bandaged arm, the smile faded. His brows knitted in concern as he walked closer. "What happened to you?" he asked, his tone softer but urgent.
Freya froze. "Sir, I..." She glanced quickly toward Alexa, panic flashing in her eyes.
Alexa’s expression didn’t falter; her lips curved into a practiced, sweet smile. "Oh, that," she said smoothly, resting a hand over her stomach. "She was making soup for me earlier. Poor girl’s just clumsy. She spilled it on herself. I even told her to take leave and visit the hospital, didn’t I, dear Freya?"
Her voice dripped with false sympathy, but her eyes glinted sharply like a knife warning her maid to stay quiet.
Freya swallowed hard and nodded quickly, her voice meek. "Y-Yes, ma’am. It was an accident."
Archer’s expression softened. He looked at Freya again, his gaze full of genuine concern. "You can take a few days off if you’re in pain," he said. "Don’t worry about work."
Her eyes widened, relief and gratitude flooding her face. "Thank you, sir! Thank you so much."
He gave her a small, reassuring smile. "And don’t worry, I won’t cut your salary. I know about your mother’s condition," he added gently.
Freya’s throat tightened. She nodded quickly, almost shyly, her lips curving into a small, dazed smile. "Thank you, sir," she whispered again.
As she turned to leave, Alexa’s hand tightened around the fork in her plate. Her eyes burned with quiet fury as she stabbed into the slice of apple, the metal clinking sharply against the porcelain.
Her smile had vanished, replaced by a slow, dark sneer.
That girl... she reminds me of that big witch Bella, Alexa thought bitterly. Always acting pure and innocent. Even her eyes—green and glowing like she’s some fairy; how disgusting.
Her gaze flicked toward the doorway where Freya had disappeared, her nails biting into her palm. A smaller version of Bella. Another weak little girl pretending to be kind.
Alexa leaned back in her chair, twirling the fork in her fingers as a cruel smirk touched her lips. I hate women like her. The ones who smile and act helpless, waiting for others to save them.
She tilted her head with a slight smile. At least I’m real. I turned my hate into fame, my pain into strength.
Even after being cast out of the entertainment industry, Alexa had clawed her way back up. She was still trending, still adored by her followers—the glamorous influencer with millions of eyes on her life. People called her "controversial," but that was just another word for powerful.
She smirked, taking a bite of the apple she had brutally stabbed. Let them pity that girl, she thought coldly. But in the end, I’ll always be the one in control.
"And you better stay obedient. If anything happens to my baby, I will end you." Archer’s voice was quiet, but the words fell like a verdict into the air after Freya slipped from the room. The calm in his tone made the threat colder, the kind that left no space for protest.
Alexa’s eyes widened the instant the sentence landed. For a second, the practiced mask of confidence cracked and something small and frightened shivered behind it. She reached out automatically, fingers fluttering to his sleeve, her voice high and sweet, practiced with the same charm that had kept her throne intact through many scandals. "Hubby, I love you. How could I ever do anything to our baby? I want us. Family." Her smile was glossy, her eyes wet with a show of contrition she had long learned to perform on demand.