The next two days passed more quietly than Freya expected.
After returning from Dylan's family home, she spent most of her time inside the guest room, only coming out for meals or occasional walks around the garden whenever one of the servants encouraged her to get some fresh air.
The humiliation she had experienced at the gate still lingered in her mind, and despite her efforts to focus on other things, she found herself replaying the incident repeatedly.
What hurt the most was not being chased away. It was the realization that nobody there had wanted her.
For years, she had tried her best to become part of that family. She had cooked for them, helped whenever they needed assistance, tolerated countless insults, and continuously convinced herself that things would improve if she remained patient long enough.
Now Dylan was gone, and somehow she had become an outsider overnight.
One afternoon she sat beneath a tree in the garden, quietly staring at the flowers nearby while lost in thought.
A servant approached carrying a tray with tea and snacks. "Miss Freya, you have barely eaten today."
Freya looked up and offered a small smile. "I'm alright."
The servant clearly did not believe her. "You have been saying that for two days now."
Freya lowered her eyes.
The servant hesitated before speaking again. "Forgive me if I am overstepping, but sometimes when people are sad, they think they must carry everything alone."
Freya remained silent.
The servant gently placed the tray on the table. "You don't have to do that." After saying those words, she quietly excused herself.
Freya stared at the tea for a long time before suddenly laughing bitterly. It was strange. Complete strangers had shown her more kindness in a few days than some people she had known for years.
*
Meanwhile, inside the main house, Raghnall was sitting in his study reviewing a report Cedric had just delivered. The report contained everything his investigators had managed to gather about Freya.
For several minutes he read without speaking.
Cedric sat opposite him.
"Well?" Cedric finally asked.
Raghnall turned another page. "This doesn't match."
"What doesn't match?"
"The woman outside."
Cedric leaned forward.
Raghnall tapped a section of the report. "It says here that before her marriage, Freya was known for being ambitious. She worked multiple jobs while studying. She helped support relatives. Several former employers described her as confident and hardworking."
Cedric nodded. "That sounds impressive."
"It does." Raghnall looked toward the garden visible through his office window. "The woman currently staying in this house looks exhausted. She avoids eye contact whenever people mention her future. She apologizes for everything. She acts like someone who expects to be blamed for things before they even happen."
Cedric frowned. When Raghnall put it that way, the difference was obvious. "Maybe marriage changed her."
Raghnall said nothing outloud. 'Perhaps'.
But something about the situation continued bothering him. Marriage could change people. Life could change people. Yet what he was seeing felt different. It felt like somebody who had slowly disappeared over many years.
Cedric eventually broke the silence. "You are thinking too much about this."
Raghnall glanced at him. "Am I?"
"Yes." Cedric relaxed into his chair. "You rescued a stranger. Then you discovered she happens to be connected to somebody you are investigating. Since then, you've spent days thinking about her."
"I am investigating a possible accomplice."
Cedric immediately laughed. "If that's what you want to call it."
Raghnall closed the file. "Cedric."
"Yes?"
"You talk too much."
Cedric grinned. "And yet you still keep me employed."
Before Raghnall could respond, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in."
Freya stepped inside.
The smile on Cedric's face instantly widened.
Raghnall ignored him. "Miss Freya."
"I'm sorry for disturbing you."
"You're not disturbing me. Please sit down."
Freya took a seat. For a few moments she seemed unsure how to begin. Eventually she gathered her courage. "I wanted to thank you again."
"There is no need."
"There is." Her voice became softer. "I don't think I properly thanked you before. You saved my life. Then you allowed me to stay here despite being a complete stranger."
Raghnall studied her quietly. "You needed help."
"Most people would have taken me to a hospital."
"Perhaps."
Freya laughed weakly. "You make it sound simple."
"It is simple, don't overthink this."
Their eyes met briefly.
For some reason, that answer made Freya smile for the first time in days. Then her expression slowly became serious again. "There is something else."
Raghnall already suspected what she was about to ask. "The funeral?"
Freya nodded. "Yes. The service is tomorrow morning."
"I know."
She blinked, then remembered that his staff had helped her obtain the information. "Right."
A brief silence followed.
"I would like your permission to attend."
The request surprised neither Raghnall nor Cedric. "Of course."
Freya looked relieved. "Thank you."
However, she did not immediately leave.
Raghnall noticed. "Something else is bothering you."
Freya lowered her gaze. "After the funeral, I think it would be best if I leave."
Cedric's smile disappeared but Raghnall's expression remained calm as he asked. "Why?"
"I have already stayed here longer than I should have."
"No one has complained."
"That isn't the point." Freya clasped her hands together. "I cannot remain dependent on strangers forever."
The words sounded reasonable but unfortunately, they did not answer the actual question.
"Where will you go?" Raghnall asked.
Freya hesitated and that hesitation told him everything he needed to know: She had nowhere.
Still, Freya forced out an answer. "I'll figure something out."
Cedric quietly looked away. Even he could tell she was lying.
Raghnall leaned back slightly. "No."
Freya blinked. "No?"
"No. You can make decisions after the funeral."
Confusion appeared on her face. "I don't understand."
"You are grieving. You have experienced multiple shocks within a very short period. This is not the ideal time to make life-changing decisions."
Freya opened her mouth, then closed it again. The frustrating part was that he wasn't wrong. Eventually she nodded. "Alright."
"Good."
The conversation ended shortly afterward.
As Freya left, Cedric waited until the door closed before looking toward his employer. "You know she has nowhere to go."
"I know."
"And you're not going to throw her out."
Raghnall returned to his paperwork. "I never said I was."
Cedric laughed. "You really are impossible."
Several hours later, after work had officially ended for the day, Raghnall remained alone inside his study. The house was quiet, and outside, evening slowly settled over the estate.
He opened the investigation file once more. This time he focused on Dylan.
The evidence remained unchanged.Dylan had stolen company funds. Dylan had faked his death and then disappeared. Every fact pointed in the same direction.
Yet one question continued bothering him. 'If Freya truly knew about the plan, why had she looked genuinely devastated? Why had she nearly wandered into traffic? Why had she been thrown out of her home?'
None of it fit. The pieces existed. They simply refused to form a complete picture.
A knock interrupted his thoughts. "Enter."
Cedric stepped inside.
"What is it now?"
"The arrangements for tomorrow are ready."
Raghnall nodded. "Good."
Cedric hesitated before speaking carefully. "Are you sure about this?"
"About what?"
"Attending the funeral."
Raghnall looked up.
Cedric shrugged. "You could easily send security with her."
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Finally Raghnall answered. "No."
Cedric sighed. "I thought so."
The response earned him a faint glare. Still smiling, Cedric headed for the door. Just before leaving, he stopped.
"You know, if Doctor Ramesh were here, he would definitely say you like her."
"Cedric."
"Goodnight, sir."
The door closed immediately.
A moment later, Raghnall shook his head and returned to work.
*
Elsewhere, Freya sat alone in her room. A black dress had already been prepared for the following day. She stared at it for a very long time.
Tomorrow would be the funeral. Tomorrow would be her final goodbye. The thought alone was enough to make her chest ache.
Slowly, she reached for a framed photograph she had carried among her belongings. It was one of the few pictures she still had of herself and Dylan together.
For several minutes she simply looked at it. Then tears quietly filled her eyes again. "I'll come tomorrow," she whispered. "I'll come and see you one last time."
The room remained silent.
Outside, the night deepened. And somewhere within the same house, Raghnall Blackwood made a decision that would change the course of both their lives.
Tomorrow, he will attend the funeral. Not as a guest nor as a mourner but as a man searching for answers.