You Are My Mr Right

Ronan had indeed forgotten his promise. After completing the painting, he had committed to giving it to Freya.

“Can we talk for a moment?” he suggested, sensing an opportunity to align his interests with supporting Freya. She, after all, was the one Elijah had pushed down the stairs, resulting in her broken leg. Logically, she should harbor resentment toward Elijah.

“Let’s talk here,” Freya replied, not objecting to Ronan seeking money from Elijah. However, she felt he was taking advantage of her, and she deserved a fair share of the money.

In the past, she hadn’t cared much about money, but circumstances had changed. With no income, she needed financial planning because of her child and her mother.

Ronan, understanding her intention, proposed a 70-30 split in front of Elijah. “How about a 70-30 split?”

Having suffered losses to Elijah and organized the art exhibition, Ronan believed he deserved a larger share. Freya wasn’t greedy. Ronan’s proposal surprised her, and she only wanted enough to support Elowen, ensuring her mother and child didn’t worry about basic needs.

“Not satisfied?” Ronan asked when Freya remained silent.

Was she dissatisfied with the uneven distribution?

“I’m satisfied,” Freya replied, surpassing her expectations.

Elijah stood behind Freya, seemingly indifferent. Did they view him as a pushover, discussing how to split the money right in front of him before even receiving it?

Considering the portion that would end up in Freya’s pocket, Elijah felt it was a worthwhile trade.

“I have another masterpiece. Mr Silverton, are you interested?” Ronan grinned.

Ignoring him, Elijah led Freya away.

Unperturbed, Ronan continued, “I’ll personally deliver the painting to you tomorrow, Mr Silverton. What do you think of these paintings?”

Elijah treated him like a nuisance, and Ronan followed them persistently. “The person who painted these, Mr Silverton, are you interested?”

Freya looked up at Ronan, puzzled by his persistence. Hadn’t he said what he wanted to?

Smirking, Ronan met Freya’s gaze. “What are you looking at? Miss me?”

Freya sighed. Why did it seem like neither of these men was normal? Elijah and Ronan both seemed eccentric, with Ronan particularly provoking Elijah with such comments.

“I think you’re getting impatient with life,” Elijah erupted, breaking his silence for the first time.

Unfazed, Ronan had a purpose in provoking Elijah. He redirected the conversation, “This is not my self-indulgence. If you don’t believe it, Mr Silverton, look at the wall.”

He unveiled another painting, this time featuring Ronan himself. The vivid portrait raised a question, “Did K paint this one too?”

Shaking his head, Ronan explained, “This painting is part of my collection, not for sale. It was painted by a beautiful woman for me.”

He glanced at Elijah, asking, “Mr Silverton, what kind of woman do you think painted this for me?”

Elijah stared deeply at him. Ronan wouldn’t be so deliberate for an ordinary person, and Elijah wouldn’t be interested even if it were a painter. But Ronan was confident Elijah would be interested. The only person who could make him interested was Freya.

But could Freya paint?

She could dance, play the piano, practice medicine, and now she could paint?

Elijah found it hard to believe. Freya was already talented in many ways, and all of them were impressive.

Ronan noticed Elijah’s confusion, feeling pleased. “I heard that only someone who likes you would paint your portrait. Mr Silverton, do you think the person who painted for me likes me?”

Freya’s face darkened. “You forced me to paint, I don’t like you…”

She stopped herself. Wasn’t this just explaining herself?

Now, she needed Elijah to dislike her and divorce her. The incomplete words led her to change direction. “Although you forced me, I did want to paint for you.”

This was admitting that she liked Ronan, even if it was only pretended. Ronan was momentarily stunned but displayed a pleased expression. He glanced at Elijah with an arrogant smile. “Mr Silverton, are you being cuckolded? Ahahaha…”

Elijah tolerated earlier provocations, but Ronan’s words now genuinely angered him. Despite his tolerance for Freya, he couldn’t allow her to entertain thoughts about other men. His bottom line was that Freya couldn’t flirt with others or develop any affection for them.

Though angered inside, Elijah didn’t show it on the surface. Pretending not to care, he had no intention of letting Ronan off the hook.

Ronan continued, “Mr Silverton, leaving so soon? Aren’t you going to take a look?”

Like their arrival, Elijah carried Freya into the car. The return journey was silent, with not a word spoken.

The atmosphere in the car was heavy.

Freya sensed Elijah’s anger, perhaps more than just a little bit. Attempting to break the silence, she asked, “Are you angry?”

Elijah didn’t look at her.

The silence was palpable, each breath audible.

Reaching the hospital, the driver stopped the car. Elijah got out, carried her wordlessly into the ward, and placed her on the bed.

“Freya, did you really paint Ronan’s portrait sincerely?” His tone was low, and his gaze was intense.Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

Freya shifted slightly, speaking indifferently, “Yes, sincerely. During my months in Stratos, I lived in his house. We spent so much time together, feelings developed…”

“Ah-”

Before she could finish, she was forcefully pushed down. Her back slammed against the bed, but luckily, there was a mattress, so it wasn’t very hard. It startled her nonetheless.

“What are you doing?” She glared at Elijah, trying to get up with her hands pushing against the bed.

Elijah bent over, pressing her down, making it impossible for her to get up.

“What are you doing? Get up!” She continuously pushed him away with her hands.

Elijah grabbed her hands, pressed them above her head, and kissed her lips forcefully.

Freya widened her eyes, pupils contracting abruptly.

His move caught her off guard.

She tried to resist his kiss by turning her head, but Elijah held her jaw firmly, rendering her powerless. With one leg injured and the other restless, she attempted to kick him away.

Elijah, however, anticipated her intentions. His knee pressed between her legs, restraining her unruly limb. His knee came dangerously close to the intimate area of Freya’s inner thigh, causing her face to instantly flush, unsure if it was due to anger or embarrassment.

Elijah’s kiss wasn’t tender; it felt more like a deliberate punishment, intentionally causing her pain.

Freya struggled in vain, forced to endure his advances.

Time seemed to blur as the pain grew numb, her eyes turning red, and a layer of thick mist veiling her bright gaze, making her eyes even more crystalline.

Finally, Elijah released her, reaching out to wipe away the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes.

“You feel pain?”