She Took The House The Car And My Heart novel Chapter 120

Chapter 120 You Don’t Measure Up To Her…

Trent hesitated, visibly taken aback by Freya’s words.

After pondering for a moment, he replied, “Cutting ties with him completely is out of the question. Not only are there ongoing partnerships between Briggs Group and Shaw Group, but if Kristian learns you revealed your real identity to his grandpa but kept him in the dark, he might pursue you even more aggressively.”

“He wouldn’t behave like that,” Freya countered, her fingers swiftly removing Kristian’s contact. “There was never any real affection between us.”

For him, their relationship had merely been a matter of compatibility.

A knowing smile played on Trent’s lips, his tone hinting at something more. “That might not be entirely accurate.”

Freya looked at him, confusion etching her features. What was he implying?

Trent chose not to answer, instead focusing on driving them swiftly towards the airport.

On their journey, Freya cast a glance over her shoulder at the back seat, her anxiety easing at the sight of her laptop and essential documents safely with Trent.

Elsewhere, when Kristian arrived at the family estate to meet Lionel, the butler told him that Lionel had left with friends and wouldn’t return for several days.

Kristian was aware that his grandfather was unhappy with him for ending his marriage to Freya, but he remained unfazed. He was convinced that it was only a matter of time before he uncovered the truth about Freya, so he decided it was best to depart.

That evening, he made his way back to his villa.

Though solitude was his usual companion here, tonight the sprawling villa felt unusually desolate, devoid of the faintest echo of warmth.

He knit his brows together, wrestling with a persistent irritation that clung to him like a stubborn shadow.

Lost in his thoughts, he meandered through the rooms and, without realizing it, found himself in the room Freya had once occupied. Her personal effects were no longer there; only the random assortments purchased during her impulsive shopping sprees remained.

Surveying each piece, As he looked at each item, he could picture her expression while choosing them and the way she looked at him.

He was ensnared in these memories for a full two hours, until the sharp ring of Gerard’s call pierced through

his reverie.

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Chapter 120 You Don’t Measure Up To Her Standards

Startled by his own sentimentality, he abruptly vacated the room, his face a mask of unease tinged with frustration, his ego refusing to be compromised.

What on earth was he doing? A divorce was just that—a divorce, no reason to treat it like the end of the world. She possessed no virtues, her only talent being her uncanny ability to provoke his ire.

Dispelling the lingering clouds of his frustration, he finally answered Gerard’s persistent call, his phone pressed against his ear.

The villa was awash in brilliant light, as if mocking the darkness of night, yet there Kristian stood, a lone figure on the second–floor corridor, enveloped by a profound isolation that seemed to detach him entirely from the world outside.

“Mr. Shaw?” Gerard called out once more, his voice echoing slightly, a testament to the unsettling quiet on the other end of the line.

Kristian’s eyes were fixed on the sofa downstairs, lost in a vision of Freya lounging there, engrossed in her favorite TV dramas.

When Gerard’s voice sliced through his reverie once again, Kristian’s reply came through cold and detached. “Yes, what is it?”

Taking a deep breath, Gerard steeled himself–mindful of the generous paycheck that necessitated such patience and said, “Regarding the incident you asked me to look into, the assault on Ms. Briggs by several men…”

Kristian cut him off before he could elaborate further, his voice icy. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow. Head over here now.”

“To where exactly?” Gerard inquired, a note of hesitance in his tone.

“My home.” Kristian’s crisp directive came.

“Now?”

“Yes, now,” Kristian said firmly, making it clear he wouldn’t entertain objections.

Gerard knew better than to challenge the command.

As Kristian’s assistant, his life was essentially dictated by his boss’s whims, save for those rare days off. Though he craved more freedom, the promise of big paychecks and generous bonuses held him back. Merely thirty minutes later, Gerard arrived, dressed in his customary sharp suit and glasses.

Before he could even ask why he had been summoned, Kristian, perched nonchalantly on the sofa, waved dismissively and said with a detached air, “Head down to the wine cellar and bring up a selection of bottles.” “Wine?” Gerard blinked in confusion, wondering if he had heard correctly.

With a piercing glance from Kristian, Gerard quickly complied, descending into the cellar to retrieve the wine. What followed was a silent ordeal, with Kristian wordlessly compelling him to down glass after glass.

By the time they cracked open the third bottle, Gerard was visibly struggling, the room beginning to spin.

Kristian, well aware of his assistant’s limited tolerance, watched as Gerard teetered on the edge of inebriation.

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<Chapter 120 You Don’t Measure Up To Her Standards

Once he saw that Gerard had reached his limit, Kristian reclined deeper into the sofa, his eyes unusually expressive. “Gerard.”

“Yes…” Gerard’s voice trailed off as he collapsed onto the sofa, his consciousness slipping away.

“Why do you think Freya was so adamant about the divorce?” Kristian’s voice grew heavy, his eyes shadowed by the stirrings of alcohol–fueled introspection. “I lavished her with everything she desired.”

At the mention of his idol, Gerard jerked upright, his cheeks flushed and his speech thick with alcohol. “It’s because she thinks you don’t measure up to her standards!”

Kristian’s gaze sharpened.

“You may be wealthy, attractive, and physically fit, but she is seeking a deeper emotional bond,” Gerard muttered, his loyalty to Freya clouding his thoughts. “With a philistine nature, you’re just not in her league!”

“Is that so?” Kristian’s voice grew colder, an icy edge creeping in.

Gerard shivered but his resolve did not falter. “Yes, absolutely.”

“Then tell me who do you think has caught her eye?” Kristian probed, his gaze penetrating, as though trying to unearth secrets buried deep within Gerard’s words.

If Gerard had been sober, caution would have been his shield.

The trouble was, his drunken state left no room for prudence. “I believe… Mr. Trent Seymour,” he blurted out, his tongue loose from the wine.

Kristian’s hold on his wine glass grew chillingly tight.

Oblivious to the looming storm, Gerard continued, “Mr. Seymour–he’s always so gentle and patient with Ms Briggs, always eager to see things from her angle. That, I think, is the very essence of true love.”

Kristian remained silent, his response frozen in the cool air. He rose, setting his wine glass on the table with a soft clink, casting a final, indifferent glance at the figure sprawled on the sofa.

Seizing the only blanket from the sofa, Kristian ascended the stairs with a dismissive, frosty air, leaving Gerard behind without a second look.

Come morning, Gerard awoke, curled up on the sofa, the chill of the room biting at his skin.

Struggling to piece together the fragmented memories of the night before, his mind drew a blank after he drank with Kristian

What exactly had transpired? And why was he waking here, in this unwelcoming chill?

“Wake up already, and clean yourself up,” Kristian instructed briskly, standing near him dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit, his frigid aura sharper than ever. “After you’re done, come and report what you discovered last night.

Gerard sat up, dazed and confused.