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

Chapter 411: Two Teams IV

Chapter 411: Two Teams IV

Ewan had always wondered if he would be in this position again—before an onslaught of bullets, heart hammering, adrenaline surging—after taking his place in his family’s company.

For years, he had convinced himself that boardroom negotiations, corporate deals, and endless paperwork had replaced the days of ducking fire and leading missions. But some things never left a man.

The thought had haunted him often during quiet nights, the question whispering: what if it happens again? What if you find yourself before the barrel of a gun, and your team isn’t there to cover you? What if you’re alone?

Now, with walls echoing with gunfire and shouts, with plaster chipping above his head from a spray of bullets, that question was no longer hypothetical.

And strangely—he smiled.

Because as soon as the trigger pulled, as soon as danger pressed in on all sides, his body remembered. His training came alive in him like muscle memory. His hands and legs moved as if they had been waiting, itching for this exact moment.

Everything synced: his breath, his eyes, the rhythm of his heart. He moved in one accord, in one flow, like a current of water rushing through cracks in stone.

The first man came from the left, bursting forward, gun raised. Ewan didn’t even blink. His pistol lifted, barked once, and the man crumpled, his weapon clattering against the tiles.

But Ewan didn’t stay in one place, not with the incoming angry men. He darted forward, boots striking hard against the floor, then vaulted onto the wall in a smooth arc. His legs found grip where no normal man should have found footing, and he kicked off, twisting his body midair.

Bullets sprayed beneath him, but his pistol spoke more than twice before he landed, each shot finding its mark in the men below. Four bodies hit the ground, their fighting objects limp by their sides, before he even touched down.

The moment his boots kissed the floor, he was already rolling, already firing backward at the enemies chasing him from behind. His movements were so fluid it almost looked choreographed, like he had rehearsed every step.

He crouched as bullets flew past, firing back, sparks flashing from metal scraping against concrete. He ducked beneath a swinging baton, drove his shoulder into the assailant’s chest, and fired point-blank before the man could even gasp. He didn’t linger, didn’t gloat. Every move was transition into the next, a dancer in a ballet of death.

He pushed deeper into the hallway, every step measured, every breath controlled. Door by door, he moved, shoulder against wood, gun raised. He kicked one open thereafter and froze for a fraction of a second.

Inside were things that made his stomach twist—obscene scenes, naked abused women forced into corners, eyes wide with terror, the criminals using them like shields.

His finger tensed on the trigger, instinct screaming at him to shoot, but discipline held him back. He couldn’t risk hitting innocents.

The nearest thug smirked, thinking Ewan was hesitating in fear. He didn’t realize Ewan was waiting for the perfect moment.

And when it came—when the criminals finally turned their focus away from him for a second, in order to leave the bed to accost him, thereby leaving the women unshielded—Ewan acted immediately. His pistol spat fire, clean and precise. Three shots. Three men down. He lowered his gun slowly, letting the ringing silence fill the room.

The women blinked at him, trembling. One of them whimpered. Ewan’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say a word. He turned, leaving the door wide open, a silent invitation for them to run. To escape.

But even if they didn’t, the state security service would soon invade the building. Aiden had dropped a tip to them, a late one, intentionally.

Ewan, meanwhile, repeated this through the rooms. Kick. Enter. Judge. Shoot. Leave. Always moving, always flowing. Some rooms stank of smoke and sweat. Others were dens of gambling or drugs. Each time, he found criminals, and each time, he cut them down with the merciless precision of a man trained for this exact nightmare.

Blood pooled on the floorboards, shadows stretched long under the flickering bulbs, and still he pressed forward, one door after another, one body after another.

By the time he reached the stairs to the last floor, his breathing was heavier, but his focus sharper. He climbed step by step, his pistol steady, eyes scanning every corner.

The second floor greeted him with silence—a silence he didn’t trust. He walked slowly, almost crouched, the muzzle of his pistol leading the way. And then...

A figure stood at the end of the corridor, just outside a heavy door. A girl. She couldn’t have been more than twenty, her hair tied back messily, a rifle steady in her hands.

She was pale under the hallway’s dim light, but her eyes were hard, defiant. She raised her gun, and Ewan froze.

Something about her stopped him cold. She reminded him of Heronica. The angle of her chin, the stubborn line of her mouth, even the way her hands shook but held steady anyway.

For a heartbeat, he hesitated.

And that hesitation cost him.

The crack of a gunshot ripped through the corridor, and searing pain tore into his thigh. He groaned, staggering back, hitting the wall with a grunt, settling behind it, just close to the stairs. His pistol nearly slipped from his hand, but he gritted his teeth and held on.

The girl kept shooting, each round tearing into the walls around him. From the sound and rhythm, he knew she was getting closer, step by step.

"Are you scared to fight, old man?" she shouted, voice shaking but loud. "Come out, sot!"

Him? A sot?

Despite the burning pain in his leg, Ewan almost laughed. Not because it was funny, but because of the absurdity of it—here he was, bleeding, hunted, cornered, and still his pride found the insult ridiculous.

He touched the wound at his thigh, grimacing. The pad he’d worn had taken the worst of it, but blood still seeped through. A surface wound, maybe, but no less painful.

His eyes flicked to his pack. Only one cartridge left.

"One bullet," he muttered under his breath. "Better be worth it."

He inhaled slowly, counting seconds, mind calculating, heart steadying. He needed her to take position—somewhere predictable, somewhere he could end it with precision.

And then he saw it: the broken glass scattered on the floor, catching faint light, reflecting her shadow as she stepped closer. Her boots crunched against it, revealing her exact spot without her realizing.

Perfect.

He steadied his hand, lined up the shot, and fired—not at her chest, not at her head, but at her right leg; mercy prevailing.Chapter 412: Two Teams V

Chapter 412: Two Teams V

Ewan left the bleeding girl where she writhed on the floor, clutching at her wounded leg, her defiance still smoldering in her glare even through the pain. He ignored her spit, ignored her muttered curses, and pressed his ear to the heavy door she had been guarding.

Silence.

He tilted his head, listening harder. No shuffling. No voices. Nothing that betrayed what lay behind the barrier. His jaw tightened. The silence could mean one of two things: the room was empty, or someone inside was waiting—poised, breath held, gun raised.

"Not even going to say anything when your life’s already hanging by a thread?" he muttered, half to the girl.

He turned his head slightly, his voice carrying the sharp edge of a threat. "One word could save you from bleeding out. Say nothing, and maybe I will blow off your other leg."

She glared, lips pressed into a thin line. Not a sound. Not even a flinch.

Loyalty.

Ewan breathed out slowly. Sometimes he hated the word."

He reached up, fingers tugging on the strap of his helmet. It was still snug, but he adjusted anyway, tightening it until it pinched at his jaw. The last thing he needed was a stray bullet glancing off and knocking it loose.

He tested the chin-strap twice, ensuring it was secure, then rolled his shoulders, loosening the tension in his muscles.

With one last breath, he lifted his boot and drove it hard into the door.

The lock splintered, the door swinging open violently, banging against the wall. His pistol was already raised, finger curled on the trigger.

And then—he froze.

A man stood in the middle of the room, gun pressed firmly against the head of a boy no older than twelve—Ciara’s little brother.

The boy’s wide eyes were glassy with terror, tears streaking his cheeks, his small chest heaving with shallow breaths. Behind them, Ciara’s parents trembled, both bound, both crying, both whispering prayers that seemed to go unheard.

"Move," the criminal snarled, pressing the barrel tighter against the boy’s temple, "and a bullet goes into his head."

Ewan’s eyes narrowed. His gaze flicked quickly over the man. It-was-white singlet. Faded blue boxers. Feet bare. His hair was unkempt, sweat beading on his forehead.

Not a good shooter or thug. Not even ready. Ewan concluded.

The latter must have rushed here when the shooting started, too desperate to save his life. He had chosen to make a last stand with the nearest leverage available—innocents.

"You wouldn’t want to do that," Ewan said evenly.

"Oh?" The criminal grinned, though his lips trembled. "Trust me, it would be my utmost pleasure. But I want to know who you are first."

Ewan tilted his head, gun still trained. "So you think I’ll answer your questions if you keep them alive? Trading their lives for information?"

The man nodded, quick, eager. "Exactly. My boss would appreciate that more than their dead bodies. They’re not useful—just pawns to keep spies under control."

"Spies?" Ewan’s tone was cold. "You mean Ciara."

The fellow smirked at the recognition. "So you found her out, then. Stupid girl who can’t get anything right. She’ll pay for it, don’t worry..." He paused, a cruel light flashing in his eyes. "That’s if you haven’t punished her already for aiding and abetting a crime against the state."

Ewan’s lips pressed into a hard line. He didn’t blink. Didn’t lower his weapon.

"I think that’s for us to decide," he replied quietly. "Now tell me, do you want to do this the easy way—or do you want to lose a leg like your comrade outside?"

For a moment, the criminal’s bravado cracked. His brow furrowed. "You cut off her leg?"

The man’s grip tightened on the gun. Ewan could see the tremor, the unstable pulse of his hand. The wrong word, the wrong twitch, and the little boy would be gone.

I have to put him away now. Ewan thought, jaw clenched.

His thumb brushed against the cool steel of his pistol, but an idea sparked in his mind. Slowly, deliberately, he loosened his grip on the gun.

"Wait," he said. His voice softened, dipped into something persuasive. "I’ll make you a trade. Information—for their lives."

The criminal’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Ewan tilted the pistol away, lowering it slightly. "You want to know who I am? Fine. But you’ll have to let them live. I’ll even throw my gun down."

The man’s lips curved into a shaky grin. "Now you’re talking. Drop it. Slowly."

Ewan nodded, keeping his movements smooth, deliberate. He crouched, lowering his pistol to the floor, inch by inch, making a show of compliance. His heart hammered, but his face betrayed nothing. The gun clinked softly as it touched the ground.

"Good," the criminal said, his grin widening. He shifted his gun from the boy’s head and pointed it squarely at Ewan. "Now stand up. Slowly. Hands where I can see them."

Ewan obeyed, rising to his feet, palms open, expression calm.

The criminal took steps forward, eager to claim the discarded weapon. His focus was split—on Ewan, on the gun he was bending to retrieve, on his own arrogance. And that was enough.

Ewan’s thumb tapped fast, the small button on the strap at his thigh. A sharp, high-pitched chirp echoed in the room—the alarm for backup. The sound made the man flinch, head snapping toward the unexpected noise.

That was all the distraction Ewan needed.

In a fluid motion, his hand darted to his waist, fingers wrapping around the hilt of the knife nestled there. His arm whipped forward, muscles flexing, and the blade spun through the air with deadly precision.

The knife buried itself into the man’s throat with a sickening thunk, before the latter could realise what had happened.

His eyes widened in shock, mouth opening soundlessly as he dropped both weapons, hands clawing at his neck. Blood spilled over his chest, bubbling from his lips as he crumpled to the floor.

Silence fell. Only the sobs of Ciara’s family remained.

Ewan bent, picked up his gun, and slid it back into his grip with the familiarity of a man who had done this too many times before. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths, though inside, the adrenaline still burned like fire.

He strode toward the family. "Are you okay?" His voice was softer now, steadier.

He crouched, tugging at the ropes that bound their wrists. The cords came loose, and he tossed them aside. Ciara’s mother clutched her son, tears wetting her face. The father rubbed his wrists, his lips parting as if to speak.

"Follow me," Ewan said firmly, helping them to their feet. Their legs were shaky, their faces pale, but they obeyed. "Keep your questions for later. We need to leave."

He glanced toward the shattered window. Sirens were wailing in the distance, faint but growing louder. The police were coming. And so, no doubt, was the backup for the gang.

He ushered them out into the hallway. Sandro stood there, backing them, gun raised, his head jerking here and there, eyes wide as if expecting shadows to leap out.

Ewan chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "They’re all gone."

Sandro spun at the sound of his voice, weapon still aimed.

"You going to shoot me?" Ewan teased dryly.

Sandro scoffed, lowering the gun to his side. Relief flashed across his face, though he tried to mask it with irritation. "Let’s go. The police will be here any second. Neighbors must have tipped them off."

"Probably," Ewan said, falling into step. He motioned for Ciara’s family to walk ahead, keeping himself at the rear, every sense alert.

As they hurried down the stairs, he asked, "Did we lose any of our men?"

"No," Sandro replied quickly, though his brow furrowed. "But we have a lot of injured. Good thing you insisted on the truck. You really do make plans like your ex-wife—first the helmets and army gear, now the transport."

Ewan snorted softly, lips quirking. "Like you don’t know what attacking the gang entails."

"And Zane?" He asked, seconds later.Chapter 413: Being Present

Chapter 413: Being Present

"Your mind seems occupied. And you have barely touched your food. Is the food not to your liking?" Antonio’s voice was able to coax Athena from her thoughts about the mission she wasn’t present in.

Were her people okay? Were any injured? Especially those that had gone to the gang’s hideout. Were they hurt?

She swallowed, her throat bobbing as she forced her focus back to the present, and picked up her cutlery with slightly trembling fingers.

Herbert would not be pleased if something happened to Zane, unhappier if he got to find out that they had gone on a mission to retrieve Ciara’s parents—she wasn’t sure if Zane would be able to keep the truth from his father if he came back injured.

She mumbled a prayer of protection mentally, her lips pressing together as she glanced at the time on her wristwatch. They should be rounding up the mission by now.

However, Athena looking at her watch passed the wrong message to Antonio. He frowned, his brows knitting together.

"Am I boring you? Do you want to go home?"

Athena frowned back, finally meeting his gaze. The cutlery, which had been dancing aimlessly on her plate, stilled in her hand.

"What do you mean, Antonio? I never said you were boring me."

Antonio sighed, leaning slightly away from the table and looking aside, his jaw tightening. "You act like I am. I have been the only one talking, and even then, your attention isn’t with me a hundred percent."

Athena rubbed the middle of her forehead with the tips of her fingers, wishing she could tell Antonio everything—because then he would understand. But the need not to burden him with problems, the need to obey her grandfather, triumphed over that wish.

So, she sucked on her lower lip and scooped food into her mouth thereafter, after a second of silence.

"I’m not bored, Antonio. I’m just occupied with solving the recent case ravaging the state, or will soon be. You should understand my place in the situation of things... I have to find the cure to the new virus..."

"It’s possible there isn’t any yet. It’s possible that you finding out the location had upended their plans. You should think about the positives only. Or did you find something else to prove that they already have a working drug with them to release mayhem?"

head slowly, her eyes

her soft hand with his warm, steady one. "Quit worrying too much, Athena. It’s not

be." Easier said

she tried to focus on Antonio talking about his day at work, even as she tried to forcefully take spoonfuls of food so as not to

had informed her they would be going into position in the next five minutes. She had wished him well before returning to her task. But now, she was wondering why she hadn’t called him. If things did

at the lab if you had nothing to

licked her lower lip nervously, counting herself lucky

adding and subtracting chemicals

believed her. His brows arched slightly,

to bite the bullet. "Okay, we invaded a

"What!"

diners, seventy percent of whom had just been to the

turned to look, whispers starting at

"Antonio, calm down."

I calm down? My girlfriend went into a gang’s hideout

now, his hand

never said I

you mean by ’we’?

lightly. "Members of the

reaction. The last thing she needed tonight was to feel the need to defend her actions, or try

touch her phone, but she had kept from

you said we... I thought that meant you..." A

a glass cup, taking deliberate, careful sips. She cleaned her mouth with a serviette, folding it neatly and placing it beside

series of actions with a frown, not pleased with

ordered something else if I knew you

in the lab had sucked out my appetite without my knowledge... you know,

"I see. So,

to stay calm. "They reported scenting a certain chemical... I asked them to describe

Being

thoughts away so that she wouldn’t worry much, than in the question she had asked Antonio; however, she

the option of working with a hunch, what alternative did he have for her to curb the

she had left the lab—because she had stopped him from coming to pick her, mentioning that he wait outside the cinema for her—she had been approached by a couple of her neighbors, a couple of frightened neighbors, who wanted her firsthand

apart from those who had approached her after the movies... and her boyfriend was telling her not

to know his reply, to even know what he was thinking, seeing

minutes had passed. Her tone was soft, but carried an edge of impatience. "What do you think I should do? Go to sleep and hope

will be better than

sound carried mild irritation. "Sleep? With the unrest plaguing the state? Is that what

only staring at her with furrowed brows, like he couldn’t

numbers aren’t adding up, when your sales aren’t going the

his hand from the top of his head to the base

not a rhetorical question,

the sarcastic tilt to ’darling.’ His

what’s happening." He muttered, letting the matter go. He was at fault for rousing the

how could he let her worry over nothing? Business was different from medicine after all. Numbers

and right it, so do the lives of people depend on me. Don’t you get it? I bear a heavy burden

murmured, though Athena wondered if he

the screen. About nine p.m. She had

dinged with a message. She muttered an "excuse me" to Antonio when she saw

coming home with some visitors. It’s a

of the message. But knowing that her friend wouldn’t surprise her with a bad gift released the tension on her shoulders, face, and body, rather making her eager to

stated, looking up from the

"Is there a problem?"

"I have visitors coming, according to

smiled faintly, picking his phone from the table. "That’s interesting. I would love to see them too... maybe make

that mean? Was her boyfriend that shallow, to judge people by

the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was misinterpreting it.

know, for the visitors?" Antonio asked as they walked out of

it’s a surprise." She thanked Antonio when

do you think

I haven’t the mind to pick and cross out options," she answered when he stepped into

message, pulling her eyes back

home." The message read, causing her heart to palpitate both with relief

could she have forgotten so soon about

Antonio started the car, prepping her tongue on how to break the news which

from Chelsea. I have to pick her up from a junction, so that we can head home together...

don’t worry. We

Chapter 415: More Guests

as she

of the car Rodney had driven, her steps hurried even though she wanted them slower—her curiosity wouldn’t pay heed to her mental instructions.

she had immediately called Rodney while walking back to the restaurant so that her driver would find it easier to spot her in the throng of people

phone near the porch. He caught sight of her, his lips still moving in conversation, and beckoned her over with a hand gesture, his brows

mouthing, "Everyone is in there?" She exhaled in relief when Aiden nodded,

was that?" she

security... asking questions above his paygrade, wanting to know

across her chest. "Do you think that

clean. And that’s apart from the normal one. I did another the president

side and resting her cheek

cloud of mixed feelings that overtook Aiden’s face then was enough to make Athena wince, her heart dropping to her stomach. She reached for

his shoulders slumping. "I think we should go inside. There’s a lot to talk about, that’s after dealing with

Again with the visitors,

that when Gianna had called, she

thought she would check the

the porch and into the larger living room, the faint scent of lavender and wood

saw the visitors, her attention snagged immediately by them because

designer friend got up from her seat, mirroring the same expression.

Areso whispered in her ears, both of them dissolving into

streaming down her eyes. The sight alone alerted Athena that the woman must have connected the dots, must have

go even as the seconds ticked by. Her arms shook as she clung to her.

over and over, even though Athena whispered back, telling her not to

from over. "Maybe if I had told your grandmother about the pregnancy, about my

her head firmly, taking Jessica’s hands. "It’s okay, Aunt Jess. There was no

just wouldn’t stop streaming, even with Athena wiping them off

out, I wanted to come, but I was scared you might be angry with

brushing a strand

risk your wrath." Jessica sniffed, managing a weak

of her good friend again, squeezing gently, seeing in her more than just a mother but a good

aside to look for her grandmother, only to stop short, struggling to keep a blank face when her gaze

Antonio.

urge to call him out harshly for a talk outside—it wouldn’t be a good

it was pretense or not, she didn’t know, but she

going through, Athena who was quickly scanning

the usual gang, with her friends and children. Antonio

wasn’t the odd one out. He was her boyfriend, should be family, but... but she had told him not to come here, to go home! Had she escaped from him only to meet a

and winked at her grandmother, who raised a brow

her attention to the latter with a

friends, and finally fell to her knees to hug her children who peppered her face with kisses, their little arms wrapping around

disengaged from the hug, brushing Kathleen’s hair

More Guests

you think is Athena’s birthday?" Sandro asked, after many a small talk had been made amongst them. "Make a wild

of small talk caught everyone’s attention, plunging the room into silence. Heads turned, curiosity sparking, and

slightly as she accepted the question, fingers tapping lightly on the armrest while she thought on it,

today’s date?" she

fraction when Kathleen supplied the answer happily, like

I should make a guess," Jessica said slowly, a thoughtful crease in her forehead, "then your birthday

my God..." Antonio’s sharp

reaction caught the attention of the people next to him, got them

just didn’t understand how it could have happened, but it did, and it was quite surprising—more so that

was the loudest. She clapped a hand over her

okay." Athena lifted her hand gently, waving off the apologies coming her way with a calm smile, though her eyes softened at

the tirade of apologies. "What’s going on?" she asked, voice

raised her picked yesterday as her birthday... we all

correctly..." Jessica noted with a small smile, nodding slowly before rendering her own apology, which had Athena rolling

did you make that deduction?" Athena asked with curiosity. "Maybe then these busy people here will have a second

as she regarded her granddaughter. Athena would

had an important client coming that week, hence why I remembered the day," Jessica began, her voice steady, though her hands folded

mentioned going to see her friend, Miley... it seems there was

Ewan across the room and lingered, a furrow marring her forehead as if another piece

quick, subtle, surprised glances

I knew, even without her telling me, because I could hear the voices of nurses, with one talking to another

she had been pregnant, I did the math in my head, and realized she might actually be ready to give birth, because her voice was heavy, labored." Her voice broke softly, her hand pressing against her chest. "Out of excitement, I quickly ended the call, not

eyes became misty, and then

continued, her tone thick with memory, "and we lost the client. But she didn’t seem fazed by it when she texted me to take over the business for a while... she had taken leave. So, I figure that day would be

hung heavy in the

her. I was the one that informed her of my suspicions. I didn’t hear from her again about

turned her gaze on Athena, her expression tender. "So, you see why I think you were

sense, but Jess was right—her foster mother had made an almost

memory of the latter, her eyes glistening. Her attention

have a birthday to plan! I will

quickly, raising a hand. "The party tomorrow is enough publicity. If

more public shows. It

nodding her head, her dramatic pout easing. "Done. But you

softly, amusement lighting her face. "Of course." She turned to Areso with

her hands in mock surrender. "Your wish is

the tension, though Antonio’s laugh came out nervous, betraying how stupid he

I should know?" Jessica asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing playfully as

uncomfortability stirred again, heat rising to her cheeks. She had forgotten the

together?" the woman continued, her tone hopeful, leaning

answered meekly, her voice smaller than intended, feeling the heat

eyes sparkling, then turned her attention to Florence who wore an

brightly on us, Aunt. I have always known those two will end up

Chapter 417: Go Home

softly. Her voice barely carried, but

sitting in the smaller living room—the gang—joined by Antonio, who had stubbornly refused to acknowledge the subtle signals Aiden was

legs, feigning ease, but his eyes betrayed his irritation. The former was rendered even

utterly at home in the mansion.

of questions—too many—including the one he had just overheard Athena ask Sandro. Where was his boss’ infamous son? The one who had refused friendship out of pride and arrogance. The one who was, in his opinion, highly incompetent with

his tone casual. He wasn’t pleased with Athena frowning at him then, however—or was it confusion flickering past her eyes when she met his

He

his brows, exchanging a quick glance with Ewan, not sure what to do with this sudden interest. "He is fine," he finally answered simply, checking

sat watching quietly. He was no stranger to the budding tension in the room; and as much as Antonio was his granddaughter’s fiancé, his presence

besotted with her thoughts, eyes fixed on the wall ahead. She must be worrying for

while—a lot of effort—to send everyone off to their beds after dinner. There had been too much catching up to do. Yet,

to do that, and since she wasn’t in a hurry, he resigned himself to the fate that the recap might

squeezed his hand, her silent gesture communicating that she felt

her voice soft yet loud

had to hold

toward her, his

brows knitting. "You have work tomorrow. Did you

and

she knew she had to be clear with her boyfriend. "Let’s meet outside... we are

spoke, she stood to her feet, and started toward the exit without waiting to see

he scoffed under his breath and rose stiffly.

under the dim light of the corridor, he barely contained his exasperation. "What is going on, Athena? Why are you always keeping me outside matters like this? Am I not

her boyfriend’s decibels, but she clamped down the irritation and annoyance bubbling within her. Instead,

she asked evenly when his rant tapered off. "Do you have something

tensed shoulders deflated somewhat,

Athena, isn’t fair," he muttered, his voice softer but still bitter.

the statement which had become like a mantra. She lifted her hands briefly before

beat of silence stretched

wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his

"He will be here on most nights, to take care of the children, as working in the

when he backed away sharply, the warmth replaced

Gianna? What about..." His voice rose,

me. You too are busy—you return very late at night, courtesy of your job. And that’s

the CEO of the Giacometti Enterprise," Antonio snapped, cutting her off. "Busier than all of us.

always makes

within his eyes. "So, I’m not

into her voice. "Antonio, let this go. It has been settled. The kids are okay with him

distance between them again, his hands fisting tightly at his

consume her. "You are taking this too

gets closer

firmly. "My days will be spent

Chapter 417: Go Home

Zane?" Athena whispered, nudging Sandro softly. Her voice barely carried, but the

who had stubbornly refused to acknowledge the subtle signals Aiden was giving him to excuse

former was rendered even more curious, especially with the bandage

rival sat in his combat shorts and a black t-shirt, looking utterly at home in the mansion. Too at home.

The one who had refused friendship out of pride and arrogance. The one who was, in his opinion, highly incompetent with work. The one who shouldn’t be occupying such a high seat in a legacy, unworthy, except that

Athena frowning at him then,

He is

to do

budding tension in the room; and as much as Antonio was his granddaughter’s fiancé, his

gaze, but she was rather besotted with her thoughts, eyes fixed on the

their beds after dinner. There had been too much catching up to do. Yet, this fellow here

to his granddaughter. Only she had the authority to do that, and since she wasn’t in a hurry, he resigned himself to the fate that the recap might not be

gesture communicating that

spoke then, her voice soft yet

couple had to hold back

her,

knitting. "You

what about them?" he clapped back, gesturing sharply toward Ewan and Sandro. His hand cut through the

the mood for this, but she knew she had to be