Wren’s stern voice cut through the air. “Enough!”
Freya froze, her defiance retreating as quickly as it had appeared.
In her eagerness to outmaneuver Elizabeth, she’d forgotten one crucial fact—Wren wasn’t someone you crossed lightly. As a distant relative of the James family, Freya knew her place and wasn’t in a position to reprimand Wren’s granddaughter-in-law.
The mood of the crowd shifted; their previous whispers about Elizabeth turned into quiet critiques of the Myers family. Remarks about their struggling business and Freya’s lack of decorum fluttered through the air like leaves caught in an unforgiving wind.
Freya felt the sting of their judgment. She glanced around, searching for support, her eyes landing on Lily. Yet Lily’s focus was elsewhere, drawn to Albin, who was tapping away on his phone with a smile that suggested secret amusement.
Freya’s instincts kicked in, and she sensed an opportunity slipping away.
As Elijah and Elizabeth flanked Wren, guiding her gracefully toward the villa, Freya’s gaze lingered on Elizabeth’s retreating figure, venom pooling in her eyes.
She hesitated, then steeled herself, turning toward Albin.
Her voice became sweet as honey as she called out, “Albin.”
Startled, Albin took an exaggerated step back. When his eyes met hers, he relaxed, letting out a dramatic sigh as he patted his chest. “Freya! You move so silently—you nearly gave me a heart attack sneaking up like that. What are you, a ghost?”
Freya blinked, caught off guard by the comparison. A ghost? Was she not graceful, not gentle?
Still, she decided to let it slide. This was a rare opportunity to get closer to Albin, and she wasn’t about to waste it. Reining in her frustration, she asked with forced patience, “Who are you texting? You seemed so absorbed.”
Albin glanced at his phone, a quirky profile picture making him smile unconsciously. Exiting WhatsApp with a casual flick, he replied, “Just one of my cousins. She’s looking to rent an apartment near her school, and apparently, one of her classmates knows the area well.”
He chuckled softly, recalling the wit and quirky humor of the girl he’d been chatting with.
It had been a while since someone had caught his attention in such a way.
Freya’s interest fizzled out at the mention of family. “Oh, your cousin,” she muttered, her tone deflating. Without missing a beat, she changed the subject. “Albin, why don’t I show you inside to greet Elijah’s grandfather?”
Albin surveyed the yard, noticing the group of guests admiring the flowers. He realized he didn’t quite fit into this refined gathering and nodded, following Freya inside.
