Chained To The Cold CEO: Why Won't My Husband Let Me Leave?

Morning light hadn't even settled across the room when the villa's landline jolted Freya awake. Still half-asleep, she reached for the receiver and murmured, "Who's calling?"

Her throat felt raw, and even that small sentence scraped on the way out.

"Freya, what happened to you? Are you feeling sick?" On the other end, Zoie Lambert's worried voice rushed in.

Heat crept up Freya's cheeks, and she couldn't bring herself to admit that Alexander had kept her up all night—not even to her best friend. She forced out a reply instead. "It's nothing serious. I just caught a cold. Why are you calling so early?"

Zoie sounded baffled. "We planned to celebrate your freedom today, remember? I've been waiting at the restaurant forever, and you never showed up or picked up your phone."

That reminder snapped Freya out of her daze. She bolted upright and checked the clock, and her stomach dropped. It was already eleven.

Their appointment to finish the legal procedure for their divorce had already passed.

Her eyes swept across the bedroom, and there was no trace of Alexander anywhere.

She cursed him silently, certain he had slipped out without saying a word.

Later, at Luna Restaurant, Zoie fixated on the bandage wrapped around Freya's hand. After hearing how she got hurt and how she had dealt with it alone, Zoie's temper flared. "Alexander is unbelievable! What kind of husband just disappears when his wife is injured? You needed him to sign the paperwork, and he ignored every call so he could mess around with some other woman. Then he even let you face her insults?"

Her outrage echoed through the restaurant, and several customers turned their heads. Freya lifted a hand to cover part of her face and whispered, "Please, Zoie. Keep your voice down."

"That's not happening! I haven't even given you a proper lecture yet. Have you lost your senses? Are you suddenly second-guessing this divorce?" Zoie nearly exploded.

Freya tried to explain herself in a rush. "It's not like I'm backing out. We just didn't get to do it this morning."

She remembered calling Alexander, but his assistant answered and brushed her off, claiming he was caught up in a meeting.

"Don't tell me you missed it because you slept in!" Zoie was having none of it. She gave Freya a dramatic eye roll. "Three years of marriage with nothing between you, and now you jump into bed with him the night before you're supposed to end things? Is that your idea of a dramatic farewell?"

Trying to defend herself, Freya sighed. "So what if I wanted to let loose a little before it's all over?"

A low laugh cut through their conversation.

Freya's head whipped around, and she found herself staring into Alexander's cold eyes.

He looked like he'd stepped straight out of a fashion magazine cover, and standing next to him was another man in an equally sharp suit, whose laughter still lingered.

She recognized Timothy Fowler instantly, Alexander's closest friend.

Right beside Timothy stood Yvonne. After hearing Zoie's outburst and putting the pieces together, Yvonne's cheerful expression faltered for a moment.

Clearly, Yvonne never saw this coming. She had purposely sent Freya that video last night, even arranged for someone to call her, all in hopes of stirring up trouble.

Everything should have gone according to her plan. Alexander was supposed to want nothing to do with Freya, not end up in bed with her.

If anyone understood Alexander's self-control, it was Yvonne.

However, when it came to Freya last night, all of Alexander's self-control seemed to vanish.

Maybe something inside him had shifted, and he hadn't even noticed.

Three years spent oceans apart, but Freya never left his side. Who's to say he didn't start seeing her differently somewhere along the way?

The idea stung, and jealousy wormed its way deeper into Yvonne's chest, souring her feelings toward Freya even more.

While Yvonne stewed in silence, Timothy decided to stir the pot. He grinned at Freya and asked, "So, Mrs. Scott, how was it last night?"

Freya would have ignored a question like that. This time, though, she caught the warning glint in Alexander's eyes and couldn't resist. She flashed a playful smile. "Honestly, it was nothing to write home about."

It was the sort of answer bound to bruise any man's ego, but for someone as proud as Alexander, it was a direct blow.

The look he shot Freya turned colder, nearly dangerous.

She, however, seemed perfectly content. No longer feeling the need to look after his feelings, she matched his glare with a confident tilt of her chin.

The shift in her attitude left Alexander unsettled. He realized Freya wasn't the gentle, patient woman she used to be, not since Tricia's death. Now she stood her ground, tossed sharp words his way, and refused to back down.

But as soon as he remembered how desperate she was to move on, it all made sense. With nothing left to gain here, why would she bother pretending?

"Three this afternoon," Alexander said curtly and turned on his heel, making it clear he wanted nothing more to do with the conversation.

"Alexander." Yvonne hurried to catch up to him, but not before sending Freya one last glare as she disappeared around the corner.

"You've got guts, Freya, calling out Alexander like that. I'm impressed," Timothy remarked with a low whistle, his tone a strange mix of awe and amusement, before trailing after the others.

She didn't waste a second thinking about Timothy's words. Instead, her thoughts drifted to Alexander's announcement—three o'clock at the courthouse, where they would finalize the divorce.

With that settled, a wave of relief washed over her, and for the first time all day, her appetite returned.