Ch. 533: Mr. Edwards’ Unraveled Life Chapter 533

Chapter 533

Baimo hadn’t paid it much mind—until he saw Freyja out there, alone, facing down a crowd. She sat in her wheelchair, still trading barbs with them, and something in his chest stirred. He marched over, planting himself in front of her.

The loudmouths who’d been snarling just seconds ago clammed up fast, their faces shifting from smug to scared.

A smirk tugged at Baimo’s lips. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Need a recap of what you were yapping about?”

“Young Master Baimo, we’re sorry!” one blurted. “It was just talk—we didn’t spread it everywhere. Please, let it slide…”

“Please forgive us!” another chimed in.

One by one, they dropped to their knees.

Baimo was the Yi tribe’s leader now, but everyone still called him “Young Master.” Old habits die hard, and he hadn’t bothered correcting them.

He shot them a frigid glare. “You know you screwed up? Good. Kneel there and slap yourselves two hundred times. Maybe it’ll stick this time.”

“Yes…” they mumbled in unison. A second later, the sharp crack of hands meeting faces echoed through the air.

Baimo didn’t spare them another glance. He grabbed Freyja’s wheelchair, turned, and wheeled her out.

Freyja’s heart skipped. She couldn’t believe it—Baimo stepping up for her like that? Unreal.

“Don’t overdo it next time,” he said, voice low as he pushed her along.

She’d vanished earlier, leaving him searching for ages, only to find her here, squaring off with these clowns. Freyja bit her lip, guilt creeping in. She’d hoped to handle it quietly, keep Baimo out of it. Instead, she’d flopped—and he’d still bailed her out.

“It’s not like I was being reckless,” she said. “I wanted to help. Guess I’m useless, huh? Sorry…”

“It’s not on you,” he replied. “I’m not mad. Just… don’t go out like this again until you’re healed up.”

Her injuries were still fresh, and he didn’t want her pushing it—stirring up drama could make things worse.

Freyja got it. She nodded calmly. “We didn’t do anything wrong. They’re the ones gossiping, not us. Why should we hide? I’m done ducking. I’ll face it all head-on—no fear.”

She wouldn’t let herself crumble, either. Die over some trash talk? No way—she was tougher than that.

“You’re right,” Baimo admitted. “But words can cut deep.”

“I’m not scared,” she shot back. She couldn’t be.

“I want to buy a ring,” she added, firm.

The more they talked, the more she’d prove it.

Baimo paused, then muttered, “Fine. If that’s what you want, go for it.”

If it mattered to her, he’d make it happen.

Soon, he took her to the mall. The Yi tribe hadn’t seen war in years, and under Baimo’s watch, it’d grown—maybe not Craggaville-level rich, but way better than before. The place buzzed with life.

At the counter, Freyja picked out a pair of rings. The women’s one had a small diamond and a big heart-shaped one, catching the light just right. The men’s was simpler—bigger band, smaller stones circling it—but still sharp. Best part? She loved them, and they could be engraved.

She glanced at Baimo. “Can we put our names on them? A month from now, you give yours to me. I’ll cover the cost.”

She braced for a no, ready to push so he wouldn’t feel cornered. But Baimo wouldn’t let her pay—not his style.

“Engrave whatever you want,” he said. “I’ve got the bill.”

He nodded at the clerk. “Swipe my card—”

“Wait,” Freyja cut in, eyes bright with excitement. “No need to bag ‘em. We’ll wear them now.”

She held out her hand, practically vibrating with hope. Baimo didn’t fight it. When the ring slid onto her finger, she beamed—gorgeous, yeah, but more than that, it felt like a promise. A month-long vow, sure, but he’d already let her in.

“Why don’t we split it?” she offered, not wanting him to shoulder it all.

He brushed it off. “I don’t let women pay. Never have.”

Freyja went quiet, warmth spreading through her. Relationships start somewhere—shared moments, shared costs.

“What do you feel like eating?” he asked, wheeling her out. He stayed silent after, giving her space to think.

“Home cooking sounds good,” she said after a beat. “And later, I want to visit Norah.”

“If you’re up for it, sure,” he replied.

Norah and Freyja had hit it off over time. If she wanted this, he wouldn’t stand in her way.

“Sweet,” she said, buzzing with anticipation.

Meanwhile, over at Norah’s side…

She and Kevin had been back in the capital for three days, settling into the old Edwards mansion—their former home. Kevin had gone to see Martin.

Siena was holed up in a sanatorium now, lost in her own head, oblivious to the world. Martin? He’d moved on, built a new family.

The mansion stayed pristine, thanks to regular cleaning crews, but Martin didn’t live there anymore. Kian and Bonnie handled the Edwards estate, and while Martin still held shares, he had no real control. He hadn’t fought for it—everything stayed under the Edwards name.

Then he saw Kevin, Norah, and little Cooper in their arms. Reality hit: the Edwards legacy wasn’t his anymore. It was Kevin’s.

Norah had shares too, boxing Martin out further. He’d grumbled to Kevin about it, and their last chat ended in a blowout.

Now, Martin tracked Kevin down again.

“You’re not Edwards blood,” Martin said, voice flat. “Hand it over. It’s only fair.”

Kevin didn’t flinch. “What, your kids won’t survive without it? You’ve been getting your monthly cut from the Edwards estate, haven’t you? If that’s not enough, cough up every dime you’ve taken.”

Martin had lived off those payments, no real power, just cash. His kids might’ve had a shot once—but with Kevin and Norah back? That dream was toast.