Sunshine Hospital
Freya stepped into the stark white corridors of Sunshine Hospital, her heart pounding as heavily as her footsteps. After a brief but tense conversation with the doctor, she was stunned to learn that all the hospital expenses—including the operation fees—had already been paid in full. Her breath caught in her throat. The operation was scheduled in a few hours, and now, for the first time in days, she could finally breathe.
A weight—so crushing that it had felt like it might suffocate her—lifted from her shoulders. She had been saving for years, scraping by with whatever she could manage. But it was never enough. Not for something like this. She never believed for a second that Soren—of all people—would pay for her mother's surgery. Yet here she was, stunned into silence by the truth. Not just the surgery... but the medication, post-op care, and follow-up checkups had all been covered.
Something inside her shifted.
She began to feel the faintest trace of trust forming toward Soren... but it was fragile. Unformed. She didn't really know him, not truly. What she knew was dangerous, powerful, and cloaked in secrets.
Freya made her way to her mother's room. Louisa was unconscious, already being prepped to be wheeled into the operation theater. Freya stood beside her, watching with misted eyes, her voice stuck in her throat. Her fingers twitched with the need to reach out, to hold her mother's hand, but she stood back as the nurses took her away.
She sat on a bench outside, her mind spinning. The waiting began.
---
Kingsley Industries
In the glass-and-chrome fortress of Kingsley Industries, Soren sat in his private office—dark, minimalistic, and cold like the man himself. Rian stood across from him, reading out the day's schedule in a crisp tone. Soren's eyes, however, remained on his computer screen, scanning emails as if nothing else required his full attention.
Without looking up, he spoke, his voice laced with quiet menace. "Why haven't two of our containers and one cargo plane left since last night? You know I don't tolerate delays."
Rian flinched slightly, lowering his head. "Sir, we received reports that the Luxembourg and Orlando governments have canceled their contracts with us. They cited 'low quality' as the reason, though we both know that's not accurate. As for the cargo plane—it's still waiting for clearance approval. The papers haven't been signed yet."
Soren's lips curved into a cold, knowing smile. His fingers stopped typing, and for a moment, he seemed far away—remembering something.
"My father," he murmured to himself. Then his eyes snapped up, sharpened with realization. "Of course. I should've known."
He turned his gaze toward Rian. His tone was calm, almost amused. "Don't worry. We won't do business with either of those countries again. Send them a formal notice, blacklist them permanently. As for the plane—get the clearance papers signed by the President himself. You'll have the approval within the hour."
Rian gave a sharp nod and left the room.
He had suspicions—everyone in the inner circle did—that the Kingsley family's patriarch was pulling strings behind the scenes. But Soren had made it clear: No one touched that subject without his explicit permission.
Left alone in his office, Soren leaned back in his chair, chuckling under his breath. "You really think these petty moves will make me bow, Dad? That I'll bend to your rules if you shake the ground beneath my feet?"
His smile vanished, replaced by something darker.
"I've solved bigger problems in seconds. If you think this little stunt will break me—you still don't know me at all."
Just then, his phone rang. He answered it with a single motion, the voice on the other end crisp and professional. "Sir, the operation was successful. Madam has been shifted to the recovery ward. Miss Freya is with her now."
Soren's eyes narrowed slightly. "Keep watching from a distance. If anything looks out of place, you call me. Immediately."
He hung up and turned his phone around in his hand. The screen lit up with a photo of Freya—his wallpaper.
He stared at it for a long time.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice low and intimate, "I told you… every problem of yours is mine now. And I solve my problems."
A colder tone edged into his voice as he recalled something his driver had reported days ago.
"You're stubborn, sweetheart. Still trying to run. Still trying to stay away from me. But you'll see... escaping me isn't that easy. Sooner or later, you'll be in my arms—where you belong."
---
Kingsley Group Headquarters
In a different part of the same empire, Alistair Kingsley sat in his own office, reading through classified files with a cool detachment. Across from him, his other son—Tristan—sat with the usual polished smile on his face.
An assistant entered and bowed slightly. "Sir, just as you instructed, I contacted the governments of Luxembourg and Ireland. We pushed to have them cancel their deals with Soren to create some pressure. But it didn't work. Mr. Soren simply blacklisted them instead. And he secured the clearance."
Alistair's jaw twitched, but his voice remained smooth. "No matter. I never intended real damage. Just a warning. A reminder that he still answers to me."
His eyes gleamed coldly. "I need to break his pride before it poisons everything."
Tristan shifted in his seat. "Father… why are you doing this to him? Don't you think it's too harsh? Soren deserves to live his own life. If he doesn't want this marriage alliance, we should respect that. In fact, if it helps… I'll marry the girl instead."
Alistair's eyes turned stormy. "You won't. I've already arranged your marriage elsewhere. Soren will marry her. He has no choice. And if I have to push harder, I will."
Tristan nodded obediently. But inside, he was elated. The cracks between Soren and the family were widening—and Tristan was more than ready to step into the space his brother would eventually leave behind.
---
Sunshine Hospital
Freya sat by her mother's bedside, gently brushing a strand of grey hair away from Louisa's forehead. The older woman stirred, her eyes fluttering open.
"Freya…" Her voice was weak but warm. "How… how did you pay for all this? The surgery… the private room… It's all so expensive."
Freya smiled softly, masking her anxiety. "Don't worry, Mom. Just focus on getting better. I'll handle the rest. I've worked out a plan—I'll repay it in installments."
Louisa stared at her, eyes glistening. Her daughter had always given up everything for her. Time. Money. Dreams. And now this…
"Don't lie to me," she whispered. "I know how hard things were for you. Who helped you?"
Freya lowered her gaze, her smile fading for a moment. "It doesn't matter. You're safe now. That's all I care about."
She couldn't bring herself to tell her mother the truth—that the man who paid for it all was the same man she was bound to by a marriage she hadn't accepted in her heart yet.
A soft knock interrupted the moment. Both women turned toward the door as it slowly opened.
Freya's heart skipped a beat. She recognized the figure standing there immediately—and a nervous flutter spread through her chest.
Louisa blinked in confusion, studying the stranger. "Who is that?"
Freya's mouth went dry.
Because the man stepping into the room wasn't just any man.
It was Soren.
And she had no idea what he wanted from her now.