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

Chapter 388: Fear? II

The first knock came like a ripple against the fragile cocoon of Athena’s sleep. She stirred but did not wake fully, her body sinking deeper into the silken embrace of the sheets.

Morning light crept in thin slats through the half-drawn curtains, pale and hesitant, as though the sun itself feared disturbing her. It painted her pillow in faint gold, touched the loose strands of her hair with fire, and pressed a promise of peace she wasn’t sure she trusted.

A second knock followed, firmer this time, more insistent.

Athena groaned softly, pulling the sheet over her head for a heartbeat, tempted to surrender back into the darkness. The room was cool, filled with the hushed quiet that followed long nights of worry, and her body longed for one more stolen hour of rest.

But the knock returned, polite yet unyielding, the rhythm of small hands against heavy wood.

With a quiet sigh, she forced herself upright. Her hair tumbled loose around her face, catching the beams of sunlight like strands of bronze. She pushed them back, eyes half-lidded, and let her feet slide from the bed onto the polished floor.

The boards were cold beneath her skin, grounding her. Every step she took across the room carried the reluctant heaviness of someone caught between the safety of dreams and the demands of reality.

When she pulled open the door, two small figures stood waiting, bright as sparks against the solemn morning.

"Mommy!"

The voices chimed together, high and unrestrained. Before she could kneel, Kate and Nate threw themselves forward, tumbling into her arms with the unstoppable force of their affection.

Their warmth pressed against her,comforting her. Athena folded around them instinctively, pressing her cheek against the crown of Kate’s head, breathing in the faint, clean scent of soap.

"You’re up early," She murmured, her voice softened by the weight of love and fatigue. She pulled back just enough to look at them, her hands framing their small faces. "Did you sleep well?"

Both nodded eagerly, faces lit with that uncomplicated brightness only children carried.

"Yes!" Kate replied, her hair bouncing as she moved. "Susan said she’ll take us to school today."

"We just wanted to say goodbye before we leave," Nate added proudly, tugging at her sleeve as though afraid she might miss the point.

Athena’s gaze lingered on their uniforms. They looked too ready, too grown for her liking, the years slipping away faster than she could hold. A pang tightened in her chest as she smoothed Kate’s collar.

"And your aunties? Gianna? Chelsea?" she asked gently, though she already suspected the answer.

"They already went to work," Kate said, her tone casual, her little shoulders lifting in a matter-of-fact shrug.

she said warmly, though the firmness in her tone revealed the habit of command she could never shed. "Let’s greet your grandparents before

their chatter spilling like music into the corridor as she led them down. For a fleeting moment, Athena let herself drown in the rhythm of their voices, the way Kate and Nate’s laughter softened the edges of her own

as they entered the sitting room, the air

She cradled a porcelain cup with

attuned to the smallest changes in her family, caught the way Florence’s fingers

beyond them came low voices, muffled and heavy, the cadence of strategy and foreboding. The weight of it

hesitated. The children didn’t belong in that

on," she whispered, her voice tender yet edged with urgency. "Say goodbye properly,

and Nate nodded, obedient in the way children were when they sensed their mother’s seriousness. They darted to embrace Florence, murmuring their sweet farewells, before

steps, Susan waited by the car. Her posture was steady. Athena bent low, planting kisses on each twin’s forehead,

her voice caught between maternal affection and the shadow of dread.

out his chest like a

with both pride and ache. She straightened, reaching for Susan’s hand. "Take care of

firmly. "Always," she replied with quiet

shut with hollow thuds, engines rumbled to life. The vehicle rolled forward,

red flicker of taillights vanished down the road. Only

Florence was waiting. She set a fresh cup of coffee on the low

"Good morning, grandma..."

she said softly. Her voice carried the weight of experience,

porcelain, letting the heat soak into her palms. She took a sip, the bitterness grounding her senses, then

inside was dense, saturated

wrong in her

the hearth, arms folded across his chest, eyes dark as storm clouds. Old Mr. Thorne sat stiff in his chair, his cane resting nearby, every line

Zane wasn’t cheerful on

let her eyes travel over them before fixing on Ewan. "What

didn’t flinch.

stones in her chest. Her breath

grave, clipped. "He sent a message last night. How he learned, we don’t know. Perhaps the mission wasn’t a victory

around the back of a chair, knuckles whitening. "Then what do

Thorne rasped, his voice heavy with age but unbent, "we do what we have always done—remain alert. Our agents

his stance, gaze trained on Athena. "And the lab. Should we

of their involvement, then his sponsor