Chapter 717: She Closes the Novel

By the time Freya reached she closes the novel, she no longer felt like the frightened woman who had awakened in a strange bedroom surrounded by luxury bags. She closes the file without reading any other unused branches.

The investigation had taught her to separate evidence from interpretation, prediction from choice, and explanation from ownership. Some questions had received answers. Others had become more complicated. A few might remain unresolved forever.

For the first time, a written ending exists in front of her and possesses no power over what she wants next.

Louis stayed beside her without trying to decide what she should feel. That alone would have seemed impossible during the earliest days of their marriage, when they had lived like polite strangers and understood almost nothing about each other.

They had changed through failure rather than despite it. Louis had learned that protection without disclosure could become control. Freya had learned that independence did not require refusing every form of support. Neither lesson had arrived cleanly.

The public consequences of the conspiracy continued through lawyers, regulators, boards, and courts. Freya deliberately stepped away from the daily spectacle once her testimony and records were complete. She did not need to watch every person who had harmed them suffer in order to believe accountability mattered.

She preferred building.

Sunroom had become a real studio with its own reputation, staff, failures, recoveries, and future work. Awake Stories had become a publisher rather than a personal experiment. The Open Page had become a place where people gathered because they loved stories, not because they knew anything about Freya's impossible one.

Those achievements mattered because none had been predicted for her.

Even the original novel had barely considered the wife of the antagonist worth describing. She had been a convenient flaw in Louis's character arc, a materialistic woman expected to disappear once the money vanished.

Freya sometimes thought that was the funniest part of everything.

The supposedly insignificant character had built companies, survived conspiracies, challenged predictive systems, repaired a marriage, and forced powerful people to discover that human beings were much harder to model than spreadsheets suggested.

Yet the life she valued most was not made of dramatic victories.

It was coffee in the morning. Louis remembering to lock the door. Arguments about dinner. Messages from Helen about construction details. Claire complaining about authors. A bookstore employee asking whether Freya had approved next month's event calendar.

Ordinary life had once seemed like the background between important scenes.

Now she understood it was the story.

The old hidden manuscript no longer frightened her. Whether its unused branches remained archived or were eventually destroyed under legal supervision did not matter emotionally anymore. A written possibility was only a possibility.

Louis understood that too.

When they disagreed now, neither treated the disagreement as evidence the relationship was failing. When one of them was afraid, they tried to say so before fear turned into secrecy. They were not perfect at it.

Freya preferred imperfect honesty to perfect appearances.

Evelyn and Mercer both cautioned against presenting Project Wake as proof of consciousness transfer. The surviving evidence showed an extraordinary information anomaly, but its ultimate mechanism remained unknown.

Freya accepted that uncertainty. She did not require science to use the same words she used for her own memories.

What mattered was that nobody would be allowed to use the mystery as an excuse to experiment on people again.

She had already lived inside a world obsessed with appearances.

At the end of each day, there was no narrator explaining what their choices meant. No glowing comment floated across her vision. No system announced the probability that Louis would disappoint her again or that she would stay.

There was only the next decision.

For Freya, that had become enough.