27. Freya

27

Freya

A sharp knock on my door dragged me from a restless sleep. I blinked against the afternoon light streaming through the thin curtains, groaning as I sat up. My eyes felt swollen and tender, remnants of this morning's tears. Part of me hoped it was Henry, though I wasn't sure why.

Slowly, I climbed out of bed and shuffled to the door, pausing with my hand on the knob. A breath hitched in my throat. What would I even say to him?

What would he even say to me?

I turned the knob and pulled the door open. Ivy stood there, holding a bag of takeout. Her eyes flicked over my face, taking in the red, puffy eyes and the crumpled clothes I hadn't bothered to change out of. She forced a smile, lifting the bag slightly.

"Thought you might be hungry."

I tried to mask my disappointment, but my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl. I stepped aside to let her in, offering a weak smile. "Thanks, Ivy. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," she replied, setting the bag on the small desk by the window. She began unpacking the containers, the smell of fried rice and dumplings filling the room. "Besides, I figured you could use some company."

I sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing my eyes. "Yeah, I guess."

Ivy handed me a pair of chopsticks and a container. "Eat. You look like you haven't in days."

I accepted the food, my stomach rumbling again as I dug in. The first bite was a relief, the warmth spreading through me. "It's been a rough few days."

"Want to talk about it?" Ivy settled into the desk chair, her eyes searching my face.

I hesitated, then shook my head. "Not really. Just... everything with Henry. With the… other stuff. It's a mess."

"Yeah, I heard about the pictures," she murmured. "I'm sorry, Freya."

I swallowed hard, looking down at the container in my lap. "Thanks."

For a few minutes, we ate in silence. The food helped, grounding me, but my mind kept drifting back to Henry. After Dan. After all of it. The anger, the hurt.

Ivy reached across the desk, touching my arm. "Freya, you know I'm here for you, right? Whatever you need."

I nodded, forcing another smile. "I know. And I appreciate it, Ivy. Really."

She squeezed my arm, then leaned back in the chair. "So, what are you going to do today?"

I sighed, setting the empty container aside. "I don't know. Figure out how to fix this mess, I guess."

I needed the subject off of me, away from my own mess of emotions. “How’s Liam doing?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation.

“Sleeping,” Ivy said flatly. “It’s the Championship game today, so he’s trying to get his pre-game nap. He had tons of chow mein and fried rice. I can’t believe he eats the amount of calories he does and still looks like that.”

I tried to muster some interest, picking at the last few grains of rice in my container. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Ivy replied, raising an eyebrow.

“You and Liam… you were arranged to be married, right?”

She frowned, her expression turning somber. “Kind of. He was engaged to my sister, but she broke things off. So, to honor the deal, my father gave me to Liam instead.”

“Ass,” I muttered, unable to hide my disdain.

Her lips twitched in a small, rueful smile. “Of course, I found out that had been Liam’s plan the whole time.”

“You mean, he wanted you?” I asked, my curiosity piqued despite myself.

Ivy blushed but nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. He manipulated the situation to get what he wanted. And he got me.”

“And you love him?” I asked, the question tumbling out before I could stop it.

“More than anything,” she said softly, her eyes shining with an emotion that was both tender and fierce.

I looked down at my empty container, feeling a pang of envy. Despite everything, Ivy and Liam had found their way to each other, their bond forged through trials and manipulations. Could the same ever be said for me and Henry? The thought lingered, uninvited and unsettling.

"Why?" Ivy asked, her eyes narrowing in curiosity. "I know you and Henry have been engaged forever. I didn't think you cared."

"I didn't," I admitted, a heavy sigh escaping my lips. "I was so stupid. I acted… I don't know, recklessly. My parents made this arrangement when I was so young, and every time I went to them, to tell them I wanted no part of it, they completely ignored me. Which they'd been doing my whole life, you know? It's like I was a problem they were trying to get rid of. And when I met Dan, it felt like he saw me for the first time. I really thought I loved him but I realize I loved his attention. That he, you know, took the time to get to know me." I looked down, shame coloring my cheeks. "I thought I was being a badass with the pictures," I admitted. "At least, the ones I knew about. And honestly, I never expected them to come out. It was like, I got to get some control back."

"Trust me, I get it," Ivy said, her voice softening. "When my dad told me I was going to marry Liam, you took me to that party, remember?"

I winced, the memory sharp and painful. "How could I forget?"

"I thought Liam was going to kill that guy," she muttered.

"I'm sorry for that," I murmured, my eyes meeting hers. "I thought I was trying to give you control too."

"Don't apologize, Freya," she said, her tone sincere. "I appreciated it. Honestly."

Her words were a balm, easing some of the guilt that had been gnawing at me. For a moment, the silence between us was comforting, filled with an unspoken understanding.

"I guess we're both just trying to navigate this mess," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Ivy agreed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "But you'll get through it. The question really is, Freya. What do you want? I remember you being so angry at Henry. You wanted nothing to do with him. And now…?"

To be honest, I still thought Henry was a controlling asshole. But there was a part of me that… understood. He was so honorable, at least with his grandfather. Like, he genuinely wanted to make him proud. But… did that mean he was marrying me because he wanted to or because his grandfather told him to?

I took a deep breath, my thoughts swirling. "I just want, for once, someone to want me. To be with me because, I don't know, I'm enough for them."

She clutched my hand, her grip warm and steady. "You are enough."

I pressed my lips together; the words catching in my throat. "If my own parents can't even bother to talk to me unless they think I screwed something up, if the guy I loved so easily released pictures that would ruin everything all because he cared more about his future than mine, what does that say about me?"

Ivy stood up and pulled me into a hug, her arms wrapping around me tightly. "I can't promise how this is going to turn out," she said. "But I can promise you, you are worthy, Freya. You are enough. The question is, are you enough for you ?"

I pulled away slightly, looking up at her. "What do you mean?"

"Forget about everyone else for a second," she said, her voice firm. "Think about who you are. Would you hang out with you? Would you care about you? I know I do. Because if you like who you are, then fuck everyone else. They can't handle you. But you're enough just by being a living, breathing human. You don't have to prove that to anyone."

I looked into Ivy's eyes and knew she wasn't lying. There was a fierce honesty there, a truth that resonated deep within me. For the first time in a long time, I felt a glimmer of hope.

"Now, I should probably get back," Ivy said, releasing me. "I assume you'll be at the game?"

"I… I don't know," I murmured, uncertainty gnawing at me.

"Well, I hope to see you there," she said, giving me a small smile. "If you need anything, call me, okay?"

I nodded, walking Ivy to the door. "Thanks," I said, meaning it.

"Of course," Ivy replied, her smile widening. "That's what friends are for."

She left, and the room felt a little emptier without her. But her words lingered, echoing in my mind. For the first time, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I could be enough for myself.

I sat on my bed, Ivy's words echoing in my mind. What did I want? Love. To be loved for exactly who I was, without pretense or condition. But could that be found with Henry?

I chewed my lip, staring at the wall. Ivy and Liam had made it work despite their complicated start. If they could find love in the chaos, why not us? Maybe Henry's reasons for marrying me were tangled in family duty and expectations, but that didn't mean we couldn't build something real.

My heart pounded as I stood up, determination growing with each step. I needed to talk to Henry, to explain what I wanted and find out if he could want the same.

Because I wasn't going to settle for any less.

Not anymore.

I crossed the room, my thoughts racing. I reached for the door, hesitating for a split second before pulling it open. I stumbled back, nearly colliding with a tall man in an impeccable suit. His hand was raised, ready to knock.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You must be Freya Reynolds."

I tilted my head, studying him. "And you are?"

"Richard," he replied smoothly. "Richard Mathers. If you have the time, I'd like to talk to you about my nephew, Henry."

My guard shot up the moment I saw him. Richard Mathers, the man responsible for the mess with Dan and those damning pictures. My pulse quickened as I faced him.

“Why do you want to speak to me?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.

“Because I’d like to get your take on the arranged marriage with my nephew,” he said, stepping into my dorm room without waiting for an invitation.

I watched him warily as I slowly closed the door behind him. His eyes scanned the room, assessing everything.

“Actually,” he continued, turning to face me, “I wanted to know if you’d like to be released from your arrangement.”

I blinked, the words not quite registering. “What?”

“Unfortunately, the gravity of the situation has caused the Mathers Board to be concerned with how the children are behaving,” he explained. “In fact, they believe both Minka and Henry are tarnishing the Mathers legacy. Everything my father built is crumbling down, and I’m trying to fix it before it’s a lost cause.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, confusion and suspicion mingling in my mind.

“My niece is dating her team’s number one draft pick after inappropriate videos of the two of them were released,” Richard continued, his voice steady. "At the very minimum, it's a conflict of interest, even if she technically hasn't inherited the team yet, and he hasn't actually started to play for them. Henry is extremely violent. I just came from the hospital where his peer is still in ICU, recovering from a beating Henry gave him.”

“Henry only did that because Jensen was attacking me,” I snapped, my anger flaring.

“And let’s not discount the pictures,” he said, his tone unyielding. “You with another man, despite being engaged to Henry?”

“Oh, there are plenty of pictures of him with other women,” I retorted, crossing my arms.

“Not like that,” Richard countered. “And it doesn’t matter. He’s the man. It’s still acceptable, even expected. But you? You made him look like a cuck, like someone who plays games, who incapable of keeping order in his own house. First Dan, now Jensen? And the fact that my nephew can’t control himself… How is he to take over the Mathers legacy?”

His words stung, but I refused to let him see it. I stood straighter, meeting his gaze head-on. “So, what’s your solution?”

“I want you to end this engagement,” Richard said simply. “For the sake of the family, for the sake of the legacy. We can make it worth your while, of course.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. This man wanted me out, wanted to sweep me under the rug like a problem easily solved.

I sneered, feeling the anger bubbling up inside me. "I don't want your money."

"You may want to take it," Richard replied calmly. "I spoke to your parents. They have no intention of accepting you back into their good graces after the scandal you caused."

"You mean the one you caused?" I shot back, my voice dripping with venom.

Richard gave me a long, measured look. "If you push this engagement, it'll be the final nail in the coffin for Henry," he said. "Everything will be ruined. You're the only one that can salvage this."

Wait… what? Breaking off the engagement could actually help Henry?

"If I... if I do," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "What'll happen to Henry?"

"Well, it's a step in the right direction," he said. "He may not inherit everything, but his grandfather's legacy won't be tarnished."

"And me?" I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Well, if you don't want the money, I guess you'd have your freedom," Richard said with a shrug.

Something tightened in my chest at his words. The truth was, I didn't want my freedom. Not anymore. I wanted Henry. But if this was the only way to save his grandfather's legacy...

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" I asked, my voice firm. "What if this hurts him more?"

"Without coming across as cold, Miss Reynolds," Richard said, his tone unyielding, "this arrangement was done to protect the Mathers legacy. Instead, it nearly ruined it, what with the choices you've made, whether you're seeing other men or taking inappropriate pictures of yourself."

My breath caught in my throat. I knew this wasn't all my fault, but I also knew I played a part in this.

"And Henry?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"At the very least, he'll keep playing hockey," he said. "He's already been drafted. That isn't going to change, especially if we pay off the kid in the hospital."

I clenched my teeth, feeling a surge of frustration. Jensen didn't deserve anything, but...

If Henry could still play hockey...

“All right,” I said, swallowing hard. “I’ll… I’ll break off the engagement. As long as Henry keeps playing hockey. As long as his grandfather’s legacy is saved.”

“Great.” Richard’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a crisp document. “I just need your signature.”

I took the contract from him, my fingers trembling slightly. I glanced at the fine print, my eyes skimming over the legal jargon. All those hours spent studying Contract Negotiations in the library suddenly felt worth it. I recognized the clauses, the stipulations. Nothing seemed untoward. It was straightforward—end the engagement, and Henry’s future remained intact.

My heart pounded as I reached for a pen. Signing this felt like giving up hope, like severing the last thread connecting me to Henry. But if it saved him, if it preserved his grandfather’s legacy, then it was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

With a deep breath, I scrawled my name at the bottom of the page. The ink dried quickly, a stark black against the white paper. It felt final, like a door slamming shut.

Richard took the contract back, his expression unreadable. “Thank you, Miss Reynolds. You’ve made the right decision.”

I nodded, unable to find my voice. The weight of what I’d done settled heavily on my shoulders. Richard tucked the contract back into his pocket and turned to leave.

“If you need anything,” he said over his shoulder, “you know how to reach me.”

I watched him go; the door closing softly behind him. The room felt colder, emptier. I sank onto my bed, the reality of my choice washing over me. It felt like I’d lost something precious, but the thought of Henry continuing his career, of his grandfather’s legacy being saved, gave me a small measure of comfort.

I clutched my hands together, staring at the spot where Richard had stood. I’d done what I had to do. For Henry.