Chapter 2

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Her mother had urgently summoned her to Washington a year ago, a call that whisked Freja away from work into an unforeseen mess.

Upon her arrival, she found herself in a tense gathering that included Clinton’s family and her own. She stared at Clinton. He was dressed in his usual beautiful black tuxedo, but had a deep look of weariness etched on his features. It pulled at her heart. Despite the tension, she felt a flicker of compassion for him as she sat beside her mother.

“I do not understand why everyone is here,” Clinton said, his voice lacking emotion, his fatigue evident.

“Clinton, you're destroying yourself. You need assistance, you need help.” His mother, Ruth, pleaded, worry evident in her tone.

“I can manage everything, Mum. Things have just been really tough lately,” Clinton asserted, a blend of defiance and desperation in his gaze.

“Take some time off work, son. Spend time with your son and yourself,” his father, Dave, proposed, but Clinton quickly dismissed the idea.

“I’m not doing any of that. I’ve got it under control,” he responded, a trace of anger in his tone. Freja felt compelled to argue with him, to urge him to take a break, but she knew he wouldn’t listen to her.

“Freja, dear, how was your flight?” Ruth asked, redirecting her attention to Freja. 

“It was fine, thank you, ma,” she managed a smile, wishing her mother would return her focus to Clinton.

“Why did you summon me here?” Clinton interjected, impatience flaring in his words.

“I called you all together to discuss the contract between the Aarons and the Blackwoods,” her mother finally declared, the weight of her statement settling heavily in the room.

Freja's heart plummeted. She had been unaware of such a contract, let alone that it was connected to her.

“The contract was established because your company was on the brink of collapse, and Freya convinced me to assist. Now that the reason for the contract, Freya is gone, it must come to an end,” her mother asserted, her voice firm.

“What?” Clinton exclaimed, disbelief washing over him. “But that was not the reason I married Freya. I married her because I loved her so much.”

“I recognize that you loved my daughter, Clinton, but the contract clearly stated that as long as you remained married to Freya, you possessed 50% of the company.” Lois proclaimed with a resolute tone.

“But Lois, Freya didn’t divorce Clinton; she passed away,” Dave interjected, a heavy truth that lingered in the air but only he dared to voice it.

“It’s only been three months since she died,” Clinton countered, frustration pouring from him. “I haven't had enough time to mourn my wife.”

“Lois, you understand how hard Clinton has worked to achieve his standing. It would be unjust to annul the contract now,” Dave reasoned, trying to mediate the situation.

Freja felt left out in the midst of everything going on. She couldn't quite tell why she was invited. Nothing being said around her so far concerned her. Her heart ached as she realized that she was merely a pawn in this scenario, unwanted and unrecognized.

“Okay, it's fine. I will propose a new contract to you, but only if you accept a condition of mine,” her mother continued, her gaze intense.

“What is it?” Clinton inquired. His curiosity flickered behind his expression. Even amidst the chaos, he still looked calm.

Freja felt a knot in her stomach. She could sense her mother’s manipulations, realizing it wouldn’t end well for any of them.

“The 50% shares will belong to you, and the entire company will be yours,” Lois paused dramatically, “if you marry Freja.”

The statement lingered like a heavy burden, and Freja nearly kicked down her water bottle at her side in surprise.

“Mum, what do you mean??” she murmured with a mix of confusion and anxiety stirring within her.

Clinton, on the other hand, didn't show his confusion. He rather erupted in laughter, but it was the kind that shattered Freja’s heart. “Excuse me, what?!”

“I stated what I meant, Clinton, and I'm not going back on my words. This might come as a surprise, but that is the condition for the contract.” Her mother repeated firmly.

“Never!!! I can’t sacrifice Freya's love for me just for a contract, Lois.” Clinton finally regained his composure, his voice shifting from shock to resolve.

Frejaa felt heat creeping up her cheeks as she realized the depth of his feelings for her sister. It hurt to know that she would never occupy that special place in his heart. “Freja and Freya are identical twins. She is just like Freya,” her mother pleaded, as she placed a hand on Freja. She was trying desperately to mend the situation.

“She is not Freya! She can never be Freya!” Clinton interrupted. His voice was thick with emotion. “Freja is timid and introverted, the kind who prefers to stay in the shadows. But Freya…. uhmm....” His voice softened, “Freya was vibrant, self-assured, and effortlessly commanded any room she entered.”

Freja turned her eyes away, fighting back tears. They were speaking about her as though she weren't in the same room, like she were an item. They made choices for her without taking her feelings or wishes into account. She felt a strong urge to yell at them, to assert her own independence, but the words were caught in her throat.

After an extended silence, she gathered the courage to speak. “Mum, what do you mean? I have my life in Paris,” she implored, clutching her mother’s hand.

Lois diverted her gaze to her, the moment slipping away. "Oh yes, my dear daughter, I was coming to you," she paused. “Refusing my offer means also returning all the assistance I provided when your business was in trouble,” she said coldly.

"Mother! You can't do this," Freja complained.

"Oh dear, I can and I will," Louis replied.

"But, mother, I love Freya. I loved her so much and would never dream of sitting in her place, talk more of this," Freja continued as she rose to her feet abruptly.

"Then start dreaming, cause it's happening," she said. "Think of my offer, Clinton, there's no time," she said as she packed up her stuff, ready to leave. “And you," she directed her attention to Freja, "you have just 48 hours to agree to my terms, and remember, I dislike waiting for so long.” With that, she grabbed her bag and exited the room, leaving a heavy tension behind.

Freja understood her mother well; she was persistent and would not alter her stance. She had always obtained what she desired, and this time would be no exception.

“Consider it, Clinton,” Dave encouraged, giving Clinton a supportive pat on the shoulder. “Freya is gone….she's dead and she wouldn’t want you to lose everything you’ve built.” 

Ruth showed her encouragement, kissing Clinton's forehead before they both got up and exited the room, leaving Dianna and Clinton alone.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize this was the reason I was summoned,” she stated softly, but he did not reply. His head hung low, and she sensed he needed solitude. So she stood to go, but his voice halted her. It was sharp and filled with irritation. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“What do you mean, Clinton?” Freja responded as confusion flooded her.

“Why did you return? What is your intention here?” 

“Nothing. I...I left when you told me to,” she replied hesitantly, the accusation in his voice striking deeply.

He stared at her with his normally cold and inscrutable eyes, but now, they shone with fury. “I know you planted this idea in your mother’s mind, but let me clarify one thing: you will never be Freya. You will never fill her role, you can never fill the space she has filled in my heart.” His voice was calm yet assertive, each word dripping with disdain. “I will never love you, care for you, or recognize you as my wife.” With that, he got up, his figure lo

oming over her for a moment before he walked out, leaving her there with a shattered heart.