Chapter 17

Freya's POV 

The evening had been quiet—too quiet, in hindsight.

I was curled up on the couch, the soft chattering of the television filling the silence as I absentmindedly scrolled through my phone. Lucy was nearby, flipping through a fashion magazine, occasionally showing me a dress or a pair of shoes she thought would look amazing on me. It was the kind of peace that felt like it wouldn't last, the kind that whispered a warning I didn’t want to hear.

Then the call came.

The buzz of the intercom startled me slightly, and I reached for the receiver without much thought.

"Hello?" I asked, already expecting it to be a delivery or maybe one of the neighbors needing help with something trivial.

"Security here, Ms. Lefevre," came the familiar voice on the other end, one of the newly hired security. "We have a guest downstairs requesting access to your unit. A Rachelle Lefevre, she says she's your friend and in-law. Should we let her in?"

My heart stuttered in my chest. Rachelle?

Before I could even process what to say—before I could think—Lucy reached over and hit the buzzer button. A loud beep echoed through the room as the door downstairs unlocked.

"Lucy!" I turned to her, wide-eyed. "Why the hell did you do that?"

She didn’t even flinch. Calm, resolute, she stood up and smoothed her pants like she was preparing for a meeting. “Because it’s time I had a one-on-one with her,” she said, already walking toward the door. “And I’m going to make sure it happens on my terms.”

I scrambled after her, confused and tense. “Lucy, this isn’t—You can’t just—She’s not just some girl from my past, she—”

“So what?” Lucy cut in, spinning on her heel to face me. “She’s the woman who’s been stalking your life like she owns a part of it, pretending to be your friend and stealing your man behind your back, I certainly could not beat up Bryan  but I can most definitely beat up his wife. She needs to hear you to back off. And if she can’t listen, she’ll deal with me.”

Before I could argue, she pushed open the front door and marched down the hallway like she was on a mission. I followed, heart pounding. My head was spinning. I hadn’t seen Rachelle in person since the marriage announcement went public. The passive-aggressive social media posts, the cryptic tweets, and the pictures of her and Bryan “coincidentally” dining at places Bryan and I frequented had been enough. More than enough.

And yet, here she was. In the flesh.

As the main doors slid open, Rachelle stepped out. Her heels clicked against the tile as she approached, all confidence and contempt. She didn’t expect Lucy to be there—her eyes flicked toward her, a flicker of confusion flashing across her face—but she didn’t hesitate to turn her attention to me.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Rachelle said coldly, her gaze narrowing. “First Bryan, now  Brandon, What’s the plan, Freya? Rotate through every man who's a Lefevre?”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I really didn't feel like engaging in her antics. 

She stepped closer, tone oddly calmer than usual. “What’s the angle? Trying to climb your way up the food chain? Or maybe you’re still hung up on Brian, and this whole marriage to me, is this your twisted way of staying close to him.”

I blinked, stunned. She had crossed a line—and she was still digging.

“Or maybe,” she continued, her tone turning venomous, “you saw dollar signs and thought, why not? Brandon’s rich, lonely, and clearly stupid enough to fall for a manipulative little gold digger.”

Lucy didn’t wait.

One moment, she was at my side. The next, she was in Rachelle’s face, fists clenched.

Smack

“You do not get to speak to her like that,” Lucy snapped.

Rachelle scoffed. “Oh, what? You’re her bodyguard now? Or are you just the jealous friend who got left behind while Freya slept her way into luxury?”

That was it. That was the spark.

Lucy moved faster than I had ever seen her, grabbing Rachelle by the front of her blouse and pushing her back. It wasn’t one of those hair-pulling, screaming fights you see in movies. No, Lucy fought like a storm—fierce, focused, and terrifyingly precise. She shoved Rachelle against the wall, a sharp slap echoing through the hallway, followed by a short-lived scuffle as Rachelle tried to push back.

I cried out, reaching forward, but two security guards had already caught up and stepped in, blocking my path.

“Miss, we need you to stand back,” one of them ordered firmly, arms outstretched.

“She’s my friend! Let me—let me stop her—!” I protested, but they didn’t move.

Lucy didn’t need stopping. She wasn’t losing control—she was making a statement. One of the security men went forward holding Lucy away from Rachelle. She finally let go of her, breathing hard, her voice low and steady.

“You come here again,” she warned, “and I’ll do worse than this. If you ever speak her name again like that, if you even breathe near her the wrong way, I’ll make sure you regret it. You hear me?”

Rachelle’s lip was bleeding slightly, her hair tousled from the struggle. She looked shaken, furious—and humiliated. She yanked herself free and smoothed down her skirt, eyes burning.

“This isn’t over,” she hissed, looking at me like I had betrayed her in the worst way imaginable.

She turned on her heel and stalked off down the hallway, heels clacking like gunshots with every step. The elevator closed behind her with a finality that echoed in my chest.

The silence that followed felt unreal. The security guards stepped away, clearly satisfied the threat was gone. Lucy stood in the middle of the living room, catching her breath, not the least bit remorseful.

I finally found my voice. “Lucy… what did you just do?”

She turned to me, wiping her knuckles with a tissue she pulled from her pocket. “What had to be done.”

I shook my head, overwhelmed. “She’s going to twist this. She’ll say we attacked her. That we’re bullies. That—”

“Let her talk,” Lucy interrupted. “She was already spinning lies. Now she’s just got bruises to match her bitterness.”

I let out a long breath, feeling it shake as it escaped. My hands were trembling, even though I hadn’t done anything but stand there.

“I didn’t marry Brandon for money,” I whispered.

Lucy’s expression softened. She stepped closer, placing a hand gently on my shoulder. “I know that. You know that. And Brandon? He does too. That’s all that matters.”

But was it?

Rachelle’s words echoed in my head. Not because they were true—but because they hit an old wound, one that had never fully healed. My past with Bryan.  My complicated, messy history that I had tried so hard to leave behind. Rachelle knew how to weaponize it, and part of me wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was a part of the world that saw me the way she did: an opportunist. A liar. A woman who couldn’t possibly be in love with a man like Bryan unless she had something to gain.

“I didn’t even want this fight,” I murmured. “I just wanted to be left alone.”

Lucy gave me a look. “That’s the thing about people like Rachelle. They don’t leave you alone. They see your peace and call it a challenge.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Maybe I should’ve talked to her.”

“Freya.” Lucy’s tone dropped. “Time for talking is over. You talked when things fell apart. She made it her mission to steal every single thing you had. There’s nothing you could’ve said today that would’ve  made her  less of a bitch.”

I didn’t respond. Because deep down, I knew she was right.

Back inside, the silence returned—but it was heavier now. I sat down, rubbing my hands together, trying to steady the storm inside me. Lucy handed me a glass of water and sat down beside me.

“Rachelle’s gone,” she said quietly. “And if she’s smart, she won’t come back.”

I nodded, though my heart still ached. Not for Rachelle, but for what she represented. The past I thought I had outgrown. The doubt I thought I had  buried.

I looked at Lucy, gratitude swelling in my chest. “Thank you. For having my back.”

She smirked. “Anytime. Next time, though, maybe let me talk before I throw a punch.”

I laughed despite myself.

The peace wasn’t perfect. But it was something. And tonight, that was enough.