Chapter 8
Freya blinked at this news.
But reality came crashing back a second later.
Sure, he called around for blood donors, but only because he didn’t want a death on his conscience.
Between her and Mia? If someone had to go–Freya knew exactly who’d get sacrificed.
So no, she wouldn’t fall for any more fantasies.
During her final days in New York, Freya stayed put in her hospital room.
The nurses doing rounds constantly gossiped about the VIP floor upstairs.
“Get this–Whitemore booked the entire floor! Flew in specialists from Johns Hopkins and Mayo just for his girlfriend!”
“I’ve seen him like five times this week–bringing her fancy tea, dropping off Tiffany bags to cheer her up, sleeping in that uncomfortable chair all night. Man’s completely gone for her!”
Freya listened to these snippets quietly, hand drifting to her chest.
Nothing. Just a slow, steady heartbeat.
Looked like her emotional wounds were finally scarring over.
On discharge day, Elena had planned to pick her up but got stuck in family drama.
After texting her not to worry, Freya checked herself out and headed to the office.
Today was her final day. She finished all the exit paperwork.
Box in arms, heading out, she ran smack into Mia by the elevators.
Mia deliberately crashed into her, splashing coffee on herself. “Watch where you’re going! You ruined my dress! This keeps happening–you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
After staging this little scene, Mia snapped her fingers at security and demanded they force Freya to kneel at the building entrance and apologize.
When Freya refused, Mia escalated, flinging the remaining coffee in her face.
“What’s that look for? Think that’s unfair? News flash–Jasper only has eyes for me. Whatever I want, I get. Taking down some nobody assistant? Not even worth his time.”
With that smug declaration, she sashayed away.
Charay *
Security handed Freya downstairs, forcing her to her knees on the cold concrete.
She fought against them but couldn’t break free, trying to reason instead.
“I don’t even work here anymore! I pat resigned. You can’t make me kneel like this”
The guards didn’t flinch, their tone robotic “Standing orders from Mr. Whitemore whatever Miss Carter wants, Miss Carter gets. Save your breath for him.”
Those words killed any further protest
Freya knew arguing was pointless and gave up fighting
Coworkers and pedestrians gawked and snapped photos as they passed.
In the bitter December cold, she knelt for seven straight hours, her knees bleeding through her pants.
Her face turned blue purple as she shook violently, sheer stubbornness keeping her from passing out.
Near closing time, Freya was barely conscious when she heard someone calling her name.
She forced her head up to see Elena running toward her.
“Freya! You just got out of the hospital–why the hell are you kneeling in the freezing cold? Who did this to you?”
Freya’s throat was sandpaper as she croaked: “Mia…”
C
