Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife: The Twins Are Not Yours!

Chapter 387: Fear?

Athena’s phone buzzed against the carved mahogany side table beside her, the metallic vibration ricocheting

through the still room as if it had no right to be there.

Above, the chandelier spilled pale light, its glow gleaming against the polished surface of the drip stand. That

light shifted and threw a trembling shadow that moved across Spider's face like a second heartbeat, uneven and

restless.

The ringing again struck Athena's nerves, making her shoulders knot. It didn’t belong here, not in this fragile

cocoon of recovery, whispered prayers, and breaths stolen from the brink.

Spider's case still disturbed her, shocked her. The poison had been deadlier than she had imagined. And how he

had survived, was yet a mystery. It was like his body was different.

There were no adequate machinations at the Thorne’s mansion, or else she would have done stest.

"Who is calling?" Aiden’s voice cut lazily across the sound, though his eyes never were. He was balanced on the

arm of a velvet chair, posture casual, but his attention sharp as glass.

His lips curved into something between smirk and genuine question. "The president?"

Athena didn’t answer right away. Her fingers closed around the phone, but her thumb hovered over the glowing

screen as if the glass might scorch her.

For a moment, her body betrayed her—her pulse thudded too visibly at her throat, and she despised that Aiden

could see it. Why was she nervous? She had spoken to the president on countless bases.

Her eyes flicked to the caller ID again, and then she gave the answer, low, almost reluctant. "Yes."

Still, she didn’t press accept.

Aiden tilted his head. "You're hesitating." His tone carried amusement, but the way his gaze dissected her was

probing. "Letguess—you’re wondering if he thinks the tip cfrom a mole, or if he’s decided you walked

into that building yourself. You are worried about the fallout on Ewan, should he decide to investigate the matter,

tying it to us?"

Her jaw tensed. Her tongue darted to wet her lower lip before she caught it between her teeth, chewing

indecision down into silence.

If Ewan had been there, she thought, he would have cut through the hesitation in a single sentence. His certainty

was always blunt, always unshakable, a blade through fog.

But Ewan wasn’t here. He had gone to meet Old Mr. Thorne, to speak of the mission, and probable fall out of it.

Athena drew air deep into her lungs, forcing steadiness into her frame. Her eyes drifted back to Spider. He stirred

faintly, lids twitching against whatever dream held him captive. His chest rose and fell like a fragile tide.

Soon he would wake. And maybe then she would finally know why his face tugged so mercilessly at her memory.

Why every tshe looked at him, she felt the echo of a nshe could not reach.

They had been lucky.

Too lucky. The word pulsed in her skull, too loud to ignore. Lucky to have pulled Spider out without resistance.

Luckier still that the plane had been waiting, carrying them away moments before the president's men stormed

the compound.

The phone buzzed again, insistently.

Athena pressed accept. "Mr. President," she said, her voice smooth, clipped, revealing nothing.

"Athena." His baritone rolled through the line, roughened by fatigue but braced with authority. It was a voice that

bore the fragile weight of a nation.

"Everything you senthas been confirmed. The children, the women—they were exactly where you said. My

men found them alive."

Relief spread through her chest, loosening something tight around her lungs, though her shoulders held rigid,

steel refusing to bend. "Good," she breathed.

"And the chemicals," he continued, his tone heavy. "Our analysts believe they tie into the Grey Disease. Not

completely so considering the smell and particles they were able to excavate from the site, but close.

Dangerous. Do you think it’s a new virus? Can you guess what these people are planning?"

Athena closed her eyes, the words cutting like knives. They needed to cleave the wings of the wicked as soon as

possible!

"lI am not sure, Mr. President. Let's just hope it’s something else."

"But | don’t think it is."

Athena sighed. "We will have to wait it out then. I'll be communicating with my mole inside the gang."

The president did not soften. "Tell me, Athena... who is your mole inside the gang?"

Her lashes lifted, and her voice cout with quiet steel, firm and controlled. "That is a secret."

On the other end, silence stretched. Not anger, but a silence that acknowledged.

Finally, his exhale rasped through the line. "Very well."

"You must burn the building," Athena said quickly, her tone sharper, commanding. "Every scrap, every trace.

Check for tunnels, crawl spaces, hidden doors. Men like Kael never build cages without exits."

"It’s done," he answered. "The building was scoured. No secret routes. It's been burned to the ground."

Her nails bit into the wood edge of the table, pressing crescent moons into the surface. "Good."

"You've done well," he said after a pause. "Your tip saved lives. But stay sharp, Athena. The virus isn’t gone.

Watch for it."

Her chest clenched. "I always do."

The line clicked off.

She stood tired, the phone still pressed to her ear. The silence afterward was louder than the call itself. Slowly,

carefully, she set it down, as though the device were glass.

"Did the call cut off your neck this time?" Aiden teased, his smirk was easy.

Her lips twitched. A brief laugh slipped free. "Not this time."

Her gaze drifted back to Spider. That sense of recognition burned sharper now, more insistent. Where had they

met?

The door opened with a creak.

Ewan stepped inside. His presence filled the space before his words did, carrying the weight of command, of

exhaustion. His eyes swept the room—Spider, Athena, Aiden—each in turn.

"Go bathe," he said simply. "Food’s ready."

Minutes later they were gathered at the oak dining table. The room carried the smell of roasted meat and fresh

bread, the kind of comfort meant to fill emptiness. Platters of stew sent steam curling upward, sending nostalgia

into Athena. She missed the mother she first knew.

They ate in quiet first, each bite heavy with thought. But inevitably talk turned back—to the gang, to Kael, to the

shadows that had not yet lifted.

Athena stirred her stew without eating, her spoon circling endlessly. Her mind raced. Kael must never know it

had been them inside his den. Yet the fear shimmered in the air, visible in darted glances, in silences that said

too much.

"Lucas?" Athena asked suddenly, her voice slicing through the quiet.

"In one of the rooms," Ewan said. "Receiving treatment. He'll live."

"And Margret? Kendra?"

"They're together. | think they are resting in one of the rooms."

Old Mr. Thorne set down his fork with deliberate weight, clearing his throat. "Margret must join her daughter in

the black cells. Her evil deeds cannot go unpunished."

Athena's fork froze. She lowered it slowly, her gaze locking on his. "No," she said, voice soft. "She has paid

enough. I've decided to let it go."

The old man’s jaw hardened, but he did not press further. "If you wish, my dear..."

The meal ended with slight tension hanging fragile in the air. Athena rose, bowing her head faintly. "Thank you,

Grandfather. Grandmother."

Then she turned and left, her steps steady despite the storm gathering in her chest.

The east wing smelled faintly of lavender, its old stone walls breathing drafts of chill.

Kendra was waiting just beyond the threshold. She ran forward as soon as Athena appeared, throwing her arms

around her, clinging. "You're safe," she whispered, voice raw with relief.

Margret stood nearby, her posture stiff with hesitation. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, hope wrestling shame.

At last she stepped forward, her voice trembling. "Thank you," she whispered, tears glimmering. "Thank you for

sparing me. But... will | be taken away?"

Athena shook her head, steady hand settling on Margret’s shoulder. "You're free. But you will stay here, in the

Thorne mansion, until this matter with the Grey Disease ends. We can’t afford another casualty."

Margret sagged with relief, her gratitude spilling out in choked murmurs, over and over.

Athena lingered only a moment more before excusing herself, her body craving stillness.

Her room was dim, scented faintly of cedar and soap. She moved through the motions of bathing, combing her

hair, slipping into silken sheets. For a heartbeat, the mansion’s silence made peace seem possible. Sleep came

quickly, merciful and deep.

Outside her door, Ewan lingered. His hand hovered near the wood, fingers flexing as if ready to knock, but then

he let it fall. She needed rest. He needed distance.

He turned away, retreating down the hall, his thoughts loud. The laboratory hidden beneath hospital floors,

Spider's health, the gang's persistence like a stain that refused to fade. And Athena—always Athena.

He lay in his own bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep refused him, circling like a predator at the edge of his

thoughts.

The phone buzzed then.

One message. One name.

Kael.

The words bled venom from the screen:

| know it was you. You'll pay for what you did.

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