Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife The Twins Are Not Yours novel Chapter 421

Chapter 421: Gestures

The shrill sound of Athena’s alarm broke through the quiet hum of the lab.

She blinked, disoriented, and for a moment thought it couldn’t possibly be morning yet. But the digits on her phone confirmed it—5:30 a.m.

Already?

Her back ached when she straightened from the stool she had been hunched over, her fingers brushing across the scattered notes she had filled through the night. Charts, calculations, scribbled hypotheses—all the restless markings of a mind reluctant to yield.

She let her gaze sweep over them, and a flicker of relief warmed her chest. She was closer to a cure today than she had been yesterday, and that was enough. Progress, no matter how slow, was still progress.

She pressed her hand to the base of her neck, rolling the stiffness out. Less tired than before, though a dull pain lingered behind her eyes and along her spine. It was the kind of ache that came from pushing too long, too hard, but she brushed it off.

With deliberate slowness, she pushed away from the desk, stepping out of the heavy atmosphere of chemicals and into the adjoining kitchen.

The sound of running water grounded her as she washed her hands, the coolness offering temporary comfort. She splashed a little on her face, dabbing away the thin sheen of fatigue.

For a second, she simply stood there, leaning her weight against the counter, staring at her reflection in the darkened window. She had been working since she left Ewan in the sitting room hours ago. Was he still waiting?

A quiet sigh escaped her lips as memories of the previous day spilled back. At least her secretary and the woman’s family were safe—that was one victory she could claim. As for the evil twins, they would face their reckoning in time.

However, her thoughts snagged painfully on the image of Cairo, the child who hadn’t deserved any of it. For her, the pity was sharp and unbearable.

She rinsed her mouth, swallowed a tablet of her daily medicine, then shuffled through her papers, selecting a handful of crucial notes to tuck into her bag. She promised herself she’d rest once she got home, at least a few hours before the evening’s party. Her grandmother would notice if she appeared worn down, and Athena had no desire to spark alarm or suspicion.

Her phone buzzed on the counter. She grimaced. Antonio. Again.

Another apology text, long-winded, no doubt drenched in guilt. It was the reason she had silenced her phone during the night—the barrage of messages had been unrelenting. With weary resignation, she dialed his number.

He answered instantly, his voice thick with remorse, spilling out words as though the faster he spoke, the more sincere they would sound.

"I’m sorry Athena... I wasn’t thinking...."

Athena pinched the bridge of her nose, listening, offering little in return but quiet acknowledgments.

In the end, she accepted the apology. What else could she do? Holding onto resentment was another weight she didn’t need right now.

She returned to the sitting room, expecting emptiness. Instead, her chest tightened.

Ewan was still there.

He was slumped in the same sofa he had occupied the night before, his tall frame folded into an awkward position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable. His head tilted back against the cushions, strands of hair falling over his forehead, his arms loosely crossed.

Her eyes softened, conflicted emotions rising within her chest. He had stayed, even when he could have gone home, even when she hadn’t asked him to. A quiet part of her warmed at that thought, while another part clenched with guilt.

Why does this make my heart feel heavier than all the work I’ve done tonight?

Her breath hitched at the word home. Something about the way he said it—quiet, steady, unassuming—lodged itself in her chest. Before she could form a reply, Ewan was already picking up her bag, slinging it over his shoulder with ease. She didn’t protest, too shaken by the simple finality of the gesture.

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