Freya stared blankly at Byron.
Tears streamed down her face as she said with determination, "It wasn't me who wanted to kill her. It was Lola."
She still wanted to blame Lola for everything.
"I just didn't tell you the truth. Why should I have? I wanted her to disappear and have you all to myself!"
"I was never yours," Byron said, his head throbbing with pain. He stood up and continued, "You saved my life and were forced to get married because of me, and I do owe you that."
Freya looked at Byron.
It was as if an invisible barrier had suddenly appeared between them.
Suddenly, she felt him so distant.
"Byron..."
"But over these years, I've given you everything I could, and now I'll repay you." Byron looked into Freya's eyes coldly. "Stay here, and I'll persuade Mrs. Crawford. If she agrees, I'll let you go. From then on, there will be no connection between us, and we'll never see each other again."
"No..."
Freya struggled to get up, wanting to embrace Byron.
But Martin grabbed her arm, pretending to support her. "Ms. Bates, be careful..."
"Let go of me!"
Freya fought with all her strength.
Supported by someone, Byron left without looking back.
Hearing the sound of the engine outside, Martin released Freya. "Ms. Bates, my job is finished here. I'll take my leave."
Freya stood there blankly.
She was the only one in the spacious living room.
She turned around in a daze and suddenly locked eyes with Lola's portrait on the urn.
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