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?"

her head slowly, her eyes lowering

engulfing her soft hand with his warm, steady one. "Quit worrying too much, Athena. It’s not good for your health. You

be." Easier said than done. "Thanks,

did so, even as 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 trigger Antonio’s questions

from him since the last one where he had informed her they would be going into position in the next five minutes. She had wished him well before returning to her

do at the lab if you

herself lucky that she

chemicals to the Grey virus compound, should

look like he believed her. His brows

her lips, then decided to bite the bullet. "Okay, we invaded

"What!"

the other diners, seventy percent of whom had just been to the cinema which was just

few turned to look, whispers starting at nearby

"Antonio, calm down."

calm down? My girlfriend went into a gang’s hideout without

his voice had gone considerably lower now, his hand leaving hers to clench into a

said I did

sharply. "Then what do you mean by ’we’? Who went for the

"Members of the state security. They received

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

he was okay. Her fingers itched to touch her phone, but she had kept from reaching for it because then Antonio would get

we... I thought that meant

a serviette, folding it neatly and placing it beside her plate before resting

series of actions with a frown, not pleased with the half-eaten

something else if I knew you didn’t like the

in the lab had sucked out my appetite without my

see. So, continue your

scenting a certain

Being

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

with a hunch, what alternative did he have for her to curb the situation in the country, the panic that had

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

from those

reply, to even know what he was thinking, seeing

had passed. Her tone was soft, but carried an edge of impatience. "What do you think I

be better than spending hours on

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

nothing, only staring at her with furrowed brows, like he couldn’t understand why

Antonio, when something is going wrong at your workplace, maybe when numbers aren’t adding up, when your sales aren’t going the way

from the top of his head to the base behind, as if trying to straighten the mass of

not a

to ’darling.’ His lips pressed thin, his

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

her worry over nothing? Business was different from medicine after all. Numbers were different

I’m trying to do here. I’m trying to find out what’s going on. As the business somehow depends on your intelligence, on your ability to spot the wrongs and right it, so do the lives of people depend on me. Don’t you get it? I bear a heavy burden of people’s lives. I’m not complaining... I love helping—but it also puts on me the need to find out

though Athena wondered

sighed, reaching for her phone and checking the screen. About

then her phone dinged with a message. She muttered an "excuse me" to Antonio when she saw it was from

home with some visitors. It’s

to make of the message. But knowing that her friend wouldn’t surprise her with a bad gift released the tension on

to leave," she stated,

"Is there a problem?"

shook her head. "I have visitors coming, according to Gianna... need

"That’s interesting. I would love to see them too... maybe make an acquaintance... no one that

last sentence sort of displaced Athena mentally for a second. What did that mean? Was her boyfriend that shallow, to

for the server, and she gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was misinterpreting

Gianna give you a name... you know, for the visitors?" Antonio asked as they walked out of the restaurant

Says it’s a surprise." She thanked Antonio when he opened the door for her to

who do you think

I haven’t the mind to pick and

another message, pulling her eyes

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

could she have forgotten so soon about the

her tongue on how to break the news which she knew wouldn’t sit well

her up from a junction, so that we can head home together... her car

"Oh, don’t worry. We can pick her up. That’s

Chapter 415: More Guests

greetings as she entered into the Thorne’s

pay heed to her mental instructions. Her heels clicked softly

back to the restaurant so that her driver would find it easier to spot her in the throng of people going

talking on the phone near the porch. He caught

forward slightly when she arrived, mouthing, "Everyone is in there?" She exhaled in relief when Aiden nodded, just

that?" she asked, tilting

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

folding her arms across her chest. "Do you think that he is

Athena’s overactive imagination. "He is not. He has checked out clean. And that’s apart from the normal one. I did another the president wasn’t aware

side and resting her cheek briefly against his

to make Athena wince, her heart dropping to her stomach. She reached for his arm, searching his

shoulders slumping. "I think we should go inside. There’s a lot to

Again with the visitors,

when Gianna had called, she was already close to

softly under her breath; her friend must have thought she would check the info out, to find out the identity

followed Aiden out of the porch and into the larger living room, the faint scent of lavender and wood polish washing

she saw the visitors, her attention snagged immediately by them because they were occupying the central sofa facing the entrance directly: it was

her designer friend got up from her

Thorne, eh?" Areso whispered in her ears, both of them dissolving into bouts of laughter as they disengaged, still holding each other’s

was Areso’s mother, Jessica, who already had tears streaming down her eyes. The sight alone alerted Athena that the woman must have connected the dots, must have known her true

tightly, not ready to let go even as the seconds ticked by. Her arms shook as she clung

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

crying episode was far from over. "Maybe if I had told your grandmother about the pregnancy, about my latter

Jessica’s hands. "It’s okay, Aunt Jess. There was no way you would have

stop streaming, even with Athena wiping them

I found out, I wanted to come, but I was scared you

a strand of hair from Jessica’s damp

wrath." Jessica sniffed, managing a weak smile through the tears. "I am

squeezing gently, seeing in her more

her grandmother, only to stop short, struggling to keep a blank face when her gaze landed on who was sitting with Nathaniel on a sofa right beside her

Antonio.

faltered, and she instinctively stepped back, resisting the urge to call him out harshly for a talk outside—it wouldn’t be a

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

answered beside her, unaware of the turmoil Athena was going through,

and children. Antonio was the odd one sticking

boyfriend, should be family, but... but she had told him not to come here, to go home! Had she escaped from him

grandmother, who raised a brow knowingly. Of course

her attention to the latter with a quick smile. "I’m glad. Please,

finally fell to her knees to hug her children who peppered her face with kisses, their little arms wrapping around her neck. She laughed

your day?" she asked her little ones when they disengaged from the hug, brushing

416: More

asked, after many a small talk had

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

the question, fingers tapping lightly

date?"

the answer happily,

in her forehead, "then your birthday would be Monday,

God..." Antonio’s sharp gasp broke the

across their faces. His reaction caught the attention of the people next to him, got them

forgotten that her known birthday was yesterday, just like her friends, just like everyone else. She just didn’t understand how it could have happened, but it

clapped a hand over her mouth before blurting out, "Oh my God! Athena,

her way with a calm smile, though her eyes softened at

brows knitting, especially when her daughter joined the tirade of apologies. "What’s going on?" she asked, voice edged with puzzlement, meeting the gaze of

calm, "the woman who raised her picked yesterday as her birthday...

nodding slowly before rendering her

with curiosity. "Maybe then these busy people here will have a second chance to make

shook her head with a chuckle, her lips curving as she regarded

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

her friend, Miley... it seems there was a

a furrow marring her forehead as if another

quick, subtle,

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

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

became misty, and then a tear slipped

when she texted me to take over the business for a while... she had taken leave. So, I figure that day would be Athena’s birthday. I don’t think she reached Miley’s house either before her water

pause hung heavy

later, asking after her. I was the one that informed her of my suspicions. I didn’t hear from her again about the matter, which

expression tender. "So, you see why

had made an almost excellent guess. How had she been able to

smiled faintly at the loving memory of the latter, her eyes glistening. Her attention was then grabbed when Gianna screamed happily and

a birthday to

enough publicity. If there will

can take any more public shows. It makes us susceptible to the gang’s

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

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

raised her hands in mock surrender. "Your wish is

tension, though Antonio’s

playfully

rising to her cheeks. She had forgotten the poking-nose

you both finally together?" the woman continued, her tone hopeful, leaning in

intended, feeling the heat climb

ring..." Jessica rubbed her hands with glee, eyes sparkling, then turned her attention

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

Chapter 417: Go Home

Her voice barely carried,

were sitting in the smaller living room—the gang—joined by Antonio, who had stubbornly refused

his irritation. The former was rendered even more curious, especially with the bandage he could see nestled

utterly at home

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,

with Athena frowning at him then,

is he? He is always around

not sure what to do with this sudden interest. "He is fine,"

in the room; and as

gaze, but she was rather besotted with her thoughts, eyes fixed on the wall ahead. She must be

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

to his granddaughter. Only she had the authority to do that,

his hand, her silent gesture communicating that she felt

voice soft yet loud enough to pierce the

couple had to hold back a sigh

her, his face

"You

he clapped back, gesturing sharply toward Ewan and Sandro. His hand cut through the air. "Or do

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

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

the couple of blank eyes staring at him, he scoffed under his breath and rose stiffly. None

this? Am I not family enough? Why is he in there, and I am out

with the weight of her boyfriend’s decibels, but she clamped down the irritation and annoyance bubbling

asked evenly when his rant tapered off. "Do you

Antonio. His tensed shoulders deflated somewhat, sagging as resignation tugged at

muttered, his voice softer but still bitter. "It’s like you both

loudly this time, tired of hearing the statement which had become like a mantra. She lifted her hands briefly before letting them fall. "I have told you, Antonio, that there’s nothing between Ewan

of silence

around her waist, resting his forehead against hers. His breath was warm, shaky.

get used to it." Athena’s voice softened, though her hands remained still at her sides. "He will be here on most nights, to take care

away sharply, the warmth replaced

Gianna? What

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

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

makes

had been slapped. His face contorted, disbelief shining within his eyes. "So, I’m not available? Where was

go. It has been settled. The kids are okay with him

exploded as he covered the distance between them again, his hands fisting tightly at his

frowned, standing her ground in front of the heat that threatened to consume her. "You are taking this too far, Antonio. It’s not that deep. He is like

he gets closer

will be spent at

Chapter 417: Go Home

is Zane?" Athena whispered, nudging Sandro softly. Her voice barely carried, but the question hung heavily in

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

former was rendered even more curious,

a black t-shirt, looking utterly at home in the mansion. Too at

infamous son? 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,

at him then, however—or was it confusion flickering past her eyes when she met

He

quick glance with Ewan, not sure what to do with this sudden interest. "He is fine," he finally

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 here

tried to meet Athena’s gaze, but she was rather besotted with her thoughts, eyes fixed on the wall

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

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

gesture communicating that she felt

her voice soft yet loud enough

couple had to hold

snapped toward her,

brows knitting. "You

he clapped back, gesturing sharply toward Ewan and Sandro. His

the mood for this, but she knew she had to be clear with her boyfriend. "Let’s meet outside... we are