Chapter 37
The dinner with Walter was set at a restaurant known for its privacy and high prices.
When I pushed open the elegant wooden door of the private room, Walter had already stood up eagerly to greet me, while Freya, beside him, looked deathly pale, barely maintaining her composure.
She wore a carefully selected white dress with delicate makeup, trying to project the image of an innocent, pure-hearted heiress.
Unfortunately, her eyes, unable to hide their panic and malice, completely gave her away.
"Ms. White, you're here!" Walter's smile was enthusiastic to the point of being fawning. "Please, have a seat. I especially had the chef prepare the freshest sea urchin."
I nodded slightly, my gaze moving past him to land on Freya, my lips curving into a perfectly measured smile. "Freya, long time no see. You look beautiful today."
Freya's knuckles turned slightly white as she gripped her fork. She forced out a smile that looked worse than crying, her voice dry. "Why are you here?"
"To be happy for you, of course." I sat down calmly, placing my handbag to the side, my tone gentle. "I heard you're getting engaged. How could I not come to congratulate you in person?"
Listening nearby, Walter thought we were close sisters and quickly smoothed things over. "Yes, Freya, Ms. White came specially for you. You should be happy. Ms. White, please don't mind her—Wood is just too excited to see you."
Looking at his foolish, deceived appearance, I found it amusing.
"Why would I mind?" I picked up my coffee cup, blowing on the rising steam, my gaze leisurely settling on Freya's tense profile. "Speaking of which, it has been a long time since Wood, and I sat down for a meal together like this. I remember the last time... was at your and Michael's place, wasn't it?"
The porcelain fork in Freya's hand fell to the floor with a crisp shattering sound.
The air in the private room instantly froze.
The smile on Walter's face stiffened. He looked at me in confusion, then at his fiancée, whose face had turned white as paper, asking uncertainly, "Michael? Ms. White, the Michael you're talking about... is that Michael? Freya's brother?"
I raised my eyebrows in feigned surprise, looking at Freya with innocent eyes tinged with perfectly measured confusion. "Freya, you didn't tell Walter? About you and Michael being married."
"I wasn't!" Freya reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, shrieking in denial, her voice breaking. "What are you talking about! How could I possibly have married Michael! Are you remembering wrong?"
As she spoke, she grabbed Walter's arm urgently, her eyes instantly reddening, tears welling up—that pitiful look was her most practiced weapon. "Walter, don't listen to her nonsense. She's always had it out for me. She just can't stand to see me happy!"
If Michael were beside her, he would probably have already pulled her into his arms and accused me of being cruel.
Unfortunately, the man before her was Walter.
Walter might be useless, but he wasn't stupid.
Seeing my calm demeanor and then Freya's near-breakdown, the scales in his mind had already begun to tip.
He calmly withdrew his arm, his brow furrowed, his tone taking on a hint of scrutiny. "Freya, what's really going on?"
I let out a soft sigh, as if feeling helpless about this farce. I set down my teacup and spoke in a measured, matter-of-fact tone.
"It's a long story, and it's my fault. I thought you already knew, which is why I brought it up. After all, at the time, it was somewhat newsworthy." I looked at Walter, my face apologetic. "Sorry, it seems Freya found the past disgraceful, so she didn't tell you."
"Disgraceful?" Walter keenly caught the key point.
"Yes," I nodded, my tone tinged with a few notes of regret. "After all, they were siblings. Although you had no blood relation, you grew up under the same roof, he called you sister, you called him brother, and then suddenly, the sister became the wife. At the time, this did cause quite a bit of gossip in our circles."
I paused, giving him time to digest, then continued, "But I can understand it. Michael and I weren't getting along well then, and Freya always knew how to take care of people. Love grew over time—it's understandable. I just didn't expect that such a deep 'sibling bond,' even after becoming husband and wife, couldn't last long before falling apart."
Each of my sentences was like a gentle knife, carrying no trace of aggression, yet each one struck at Freya's vital points.
I described her calculated seduction as "love growing over time"; her disregard for propriety as "understandable"; her collusion with Michael as simply "fate running thin."
I distanced myself completely, as if I were merely an understanding observer, a good sister feeling regret for her younger sister's rocky romantic path.
Walter's expression had shifted from initial shock to gloomy finally settling into a dark gloom.
The way he looked at Freya was filled with undisguised disgust and revulsion.
He could accept a wife from humble origins, but he absolutely could not tolerate being made a fool of, taking on a woman full of lies who had been married to her nominal brother.
This would be a humiliation for him and for the entire Wood family.
"Freya," he practically squeezed the words through his teeth, "is what she said true?"
Freya's whole body was trembling. She knew it was all over.
All the lies, all the pretenses, had been effortlessly torn to shreds by me.
She looked at me, her eyes bursting with intense hatred, as if she wanted to tear me apart.
I met her gaze, not backing down, but smiling even more deeply.
I took out a velvet jewelry box from my handbag and gently pushed it toward her.
"Look at me, getting so caught up in reminiscing that I forgot the main thing." I opened the box, revealing a dazzling diamond bracelet inside. "This is my engagement gift for you. Do you like it?"
The bracelet was one of the signature pieces about to be launched by my own brand.
Freya looked at the bracelet as if it were a hot potato, shrinking back abruptly.
I paid no mind and continued on my own, "Speaking of which, this reminds me—Freya, do you remember that ruby jewelry set my mother left me? The one you said you liked when you got married and 'borrowed' from me to wear?"
My voice remained gentle, yet carried an undeniable forcefulness.
"Now that you and Michael are divorced and you're starting a new life, shouldn't that jewelry set be returned to its rightful owner?"