Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife: The Twins Are Not Yours! - Chapter 448

Chapter 448: So far, so good. II

The soft light brushed through the part of the window not entirely covered with the curtain, falling over Athena’s face like a timid caress. She stirred faintly, groaning when the pull of a dull ache gripped the side of her neck.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, rubbing the sore spot as her eyes adjusted to the golden hue spilling across the sitting room.

She blinked, momentarily disoriented before realizing where she was. The throw pillow beneath her head had flattened somewhat into a lumpy mess, and the couch she had used as a makeshift bed had done little to help.

She tilted her neck to one side, grimacing at the sharp twinge that followed. “That explains it,” she whispered, blaming the stiff neck on the throw pillow as she sat up slowly, her body protesting from hours of immobility.

Yawning, she stretched mildly, arms extended above her head until her joints popped, then slumped forward with a relieved sigh. She reached for her phone on the center table, the device cool against her palm. The screen lit up with the time—just minutes past six.

“Ten hours…” she murmured, a little surprised. She had slept for about ten hours straight. No wonder her body felt heavy but oddly well-rested—save for the ache in her neck.

For a moment, she just sat there, staring blankly at the silent room. The curtains swayed gently, the air faint with the scent of disinfectant and something metallic. Her gaze swept the scattered papers on the table, a few coffee cups, and some wrinkled tissues. A long sigh escaped her.

“Time to clean up before heading home,” she told herself quietly.

She gathered the litters, crumpled paper, and used tissues, dumping them into a small bag before walking barefoot across the tiled floor. The soft pat of her feet echoed faintly as she moved to the kitchen porch, where she emptied the bag into the waste bin. The air outside was crisp, carrying the early scent of dew and wet leaves.

Athena lingered by the porch rail for a moment, the quiet stretching around her. The morning sun rose behind a thin veil of cloud, its warmth just beginning to cut through the chill. She folded her arms, watching a pair of birds flit across the yard, a small smile softening her lips.

Her mind, however, refused to stay quiet. It rarely ever did. Thoughts of the previous night resurfaced—of the call she had made to Ethan after sleep had eluded her for nearly an hour. The conversation had been brief but conclusive.

The merging would happen.

They had both agreed it was the right thing to do—combining the companies under the Thorne umbrella, creating a single, stronger entity. She had felt relief once the decision was sealed, though Ethan had mentioned that the legal processes and restructuring would take weeks.

Hopefully, by then, the gang and its problems would be a thing of the past.

She rubbed her arms absently, exhaling through her nose. “One battle at a time,” she whispered.

Turning away from the morning light, Athena walked back inside and made her way toward the lab. Her steps were slow, measured, a quiet fatigue clinging to her despite the long sleep. When she entered, the faint chemical scent greeted her, sharp but familiar.

She paused, looking around at her handiwork—the labeled vials, the sterilized counters, the carefully sealed boxes stacked neatly in one corner. For a fleeting moment, pride flitted through her chest. It had been worth every labouring hour.

Crossing to the small kitchen space adjoining the lab, she turned on the faucet and cupped cold water in her palms, splashing it over her face. The chill stung pleasantly, chasing away the remnants of drowsiness. She grabbed a towel from the rack, patting her face dry before hanging it back.

She returned to the lab’s center, eyes sweeping the rows of containers once more, ensuring nothing was left undone. Satisfied, she bent to lift one of the cartons—the batch of packaged drugs—careful not to jostle their arrangement.

The weight drew a grunt from her throat, but she balanced it against her hip, picked up her handbag from the stool, and made her way toward the sitting room.

Halfway to the door, her hand on the knob, she paused. Something tugged at her memory.

“Rodney,” she murmured under her breath.

With a soft groan, she turned around, setting the cartons gently on the table. She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and started toward the stairs, the wooden steps creaking lightly beneath her bare feet.

Her knuckles rapped on the first door. “Rodney,” she called.

After a moment, the door cracked open, revealing Rodney’s sleepy eyes and tousled hair. He squinted, clearly not yet fully awake.

“Let’s go.”

He blinked twice, nodded, and closed the door again, presumably to freshen up.

She moved to the next door and knocked. One of the security detail who had followed her opened the door, his expression immediately attentive.

“Get ready. We’re leaving,” she told him.

He nodded curtly.

Moments later, the men gathered downstairs, helping her carry the cartons carefully to the car. Their movements were precise, deliberate—trained hands handling fragile goods. Athena supervised, though her thoughts had already begun to drift to the hospital, and the ever-lurking threat of the grey variant.

She was about to enter the car when she caught sight of a familiar figure hurrying toward her from across the courtyard.

“Doctor Athena!”

Geraldine’s voice trembled slightly. Her hair was hastily tied, and the fear in her eyes was unmistakable.

Athena turned fully, concern etching into her features. “Geraldine? What is it?”

The woman slowed only slightly, her breath coming fast. “It’s my husband… I think—” she swallowed hard, eyes glistening—”I think he’s been infected with the grey virus.”

Athena’s heart dropped. For a heartbeat, the world around her seemed to freeze—the air, the morning stillness, even the faint hum of the car engine. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her handbag.

“How long has he been showing symptoms?” she asked quietly, already moving closer.

“Since last night,” Geraldine whispered. “He was fine during the day, but… his skin—his eyes—he’s changing, Doctor Athena. You have to help me!”

Athena inhaled sharply, forcing her thoughts into order even as her pulse spiked. The day had only begun, and already, chaos had come knocking again.

Meanwhile…

Kael was a storm barely contained within four walls.

The dim warehouse smelled of smoke and frustration. His men stood at a cautious distance, exchanging uneasy glances as he paced back and forth.

The report had been useless—again.

“You’re telling me you still can’t find Spider?” Kael’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

One of his men shifted nervously. “Boss, he’s either dead or—”

“Don’t say it.” Kael’s snarl cut him off, his eyes flashing dangerously. But the man pressed on, trembling.

“Or he’s working with Ewan by now. There’s no way he’s alone. Not after what happened.”

Kael’s jaw clenched. For a moment, the only sound was the ticking of the old clock on the wall. Then, with a guttural growl, he swept his arm across the table, sending maps, bottles, and glass tumbling to the floor in a crash.

The men flinched but dared not move.

He turned away, bracing his palms on the edge of the overturned table, his mind a whirlwind of fury and suspicion. Ewan had always been a thorn in his side, but this—this was personal.

He needed control again. Power. Leverage.

He picked up his phone from the wreckage, the screen cracked but functional, and unlocked it with a swipe. His thumb hovered over a name for a long moment—the sponsor.

He hated that he needed anyone, but desperate times demanded desperate calls.

Fine, he thought bitterly, typing out a message. Send me a good hacker. A real one. Mine are useless.

He stared at the message before hitting send, his reflection ghosting across the broken glass on the table.

His lips curled in a humorless smile. “If you’re alive, Spider,” he muttered, “I’ll make sure you wish you weren’t.”